Page 3 of The Cowboy Complication

But the best part about him was his eyes. They were pale gray with flecks of blue warming the edges and crinkled slightly at the corners. Like he smiled a lot.

He wasn’t smiling now. Probably because she was being weird and staring a little too intently at his eyeballs from her spot in the center of the filthy barn floor.

“Are you hurt?” Grady’s friend—what in the hell had they said his name was—shoved another goat to the side as he crouched down next to her. “Can I help you up?”

“Hi.” Her face flamed, heat creeping over her skin. What in the hell was wrong with her? He asked a perfectly normal question, and instead of answering it, her brain went onto autopilot, spitting out the first thing that came to mind. No wonder none of the men in town were interested in her.

Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Umm, yes. Getting up would be good.”

She flailed around a little, planning to do it on her own, but before she could even get one hand down for leverage, a set of strong arms lifted her up off the floor like she weighed nothing.

No-thing.

“You got somewhere she can sit?” Grady’s friend turned in place, keeping her tucked against his chest as he scanned the space. “We should make sure she’s not hurt.”

She wasn’t hurt. Breathing was a little tricky, but no part of her body was in pain.

Maybe her pride a little, but even that pang was dulled by the embarrassingly dramatic way her insides were acting over this man carrying her around like a bride. Almost like they hadn’t gotten the message that the wedding she’d been expecting to plan was never going to happen.

And right now that seemed way less bothersome than it had a few minutes ago. Mostly because—for a number of reasons—it was impossible to imagine Eric as the man effortlessly carrying her around. The top one being his unwillingness to do anything remotely important to her.

“This way.” Grady led them out of the goat enclosure and into the portion of the barn where the horses were kept. “Set her down here.” He moved a stack of turnout blankets from where they sat folded on a low wood bench.

Carefully, Grady’s friend shifted his hold on her, settling her into place while going down on one knee. His rainy-day eyes moved over her, brows pinched in concern. “What happened?”

She swallowed hard as he lifted one of her hands, looking it over before moving to the other one. “I was just petting the goats and lost my balance and tipped over.” Was that him she was smelling? It definitely wasn’t horse or goat. It was clean and fresh and spicy and masculine and?—

His eyes lifted to her face, expression expectant.

Oh shit. He’d asked her something and she was too busy sniffing him to hear it. “What?”

Confirming her earlier suspicions, his lips pulled into a slow smile that brought out not only the crinkles at his eyes, but also a set of dimples that should be illegal. “I asked if you tipped over or if the little assholes knocked you down.”

“Oh.” She pursed her lips. “They’re not assholes.”

Grady’s friend smiled wider. “They’re cute assholes, but they’re still assholes.”

She frowned, thinking of a less than cute asshole from her recent past. “You must not know many real assholes.”

“I know lots of real assholes.” The man stood up, reaching out one hand for her. “That’s how I know goats are assholes.”

She eyed his hand. “The goats are sweet.”

“Assholes can be sweet when they want to be.” He wiggled his fingers, tempting her to find out if they were as warm and rough as they looked.

“Cooper’s right.” Grady slapped his friend on one shoulder. “Has firsthand knowledge cause he’s an asshole too.”

Cooper. That was it.

“It’s only firsthand knowledge if he’s also sweet.” She pointed out the flaw in Grady’s explanation. “And since he’s here to help you assault the goats, I’m guessing he’s not sweet.”

The hand Cooper offered her lifted to his chest, resting over his heart. “Ouch.”

“We’re not going to hurt the goats.” Grady sounded exasperated. “They need their boosters so they don’t get sick and I’m telling you, trimming their hooves is like clipping toenails.”

Cooper laughed, his head tipping back, the sound deep and rich and tingle-inducing. Even if he was an asshole—not a sweet one—the man was still hot and she was still lonely and desperate for attention. Not because she was needy, but because she wanted confirmation Eric wasn’t right.

That she wasn’t as undesirable as he’d claimed right before ripping the rug out from under her.

---