Page 10 of Dirty Cowboy

“The one your brothers scheduled. You weren’t on the invite list?”

She rolls her eyes, then scoffs. “Why would I be? They barely let me handle cases bigger than lost pets and cheating spouses.”

“That’s a shame, because I need your help with a case.” I throw the bait and wait for her to catch it.."

She straightens, all business. "Tell me more. I’m looking for a challenge."

I smirk.Oh, sweetheart. You’re about to get one.

The space between us crackles, thick with something neither of us is ready to name. Bringing Emma to Lords Valley is going to change everything. Now, I just need to figure out how to get her there.

“Didn’t I see a mountain of case files on your desk?”

Her eyes flick between me and the door, her usual professional demeanor tinged with a spark I can’t quite place, but it fuels my determination all the same.

She waves a hand. “Nothing worth my time. Now, tell me about this case.”

"It’s serious," I say, my voice dipping lower, "and you’re the only one who can help me."

She shifts on her feet, that spark flickering hotter. "I feel like there's a 'but' coming. Is there a but coming?"

"But… It’s not up to me." My jaw tightens, irritation prickling beneath my skin. "It’s up to your brothers."

Her eye roll is so dramatic, I almost laugh. "Don’t you have any say in this?"

I smirk. "Do you even know your overprotective brothers?"

She puffs out an exasperated ‘unfortunately’, and damn, if I don’t want to find a way to channel that frustration into something much more enjoyable.

"Aren’t you too young to handle dangerous cases?" I tease, though the air between us barely eases.

Her eyes flash with something fierce. "I’m twenty-five. And my case record is better than Tristan’s—one hundred percent success rate."

I tip my head, impressed despite myself. "Tristan says ninety-eight percent."

"That’s his. Mine is one hundred. That’s one-zero-zero-point-zero, and zero fails," she says, punctuating each word with the kind of confidence that makes my chest tighten.

I should back off. I should keep this professional, but instead, I lean in. "If you’re really interested, you should ask your brothers about it. Tristan might actually need the help."

Her shoulders relax, just a little. Then, she gives me the smallest, most gratifying smile.

"Okay. I will."

I reach out without thinking, my fingers grazing the soft skin of her cheek. It’s reckless. I should step away. But she’s not a kid anymore, and pretending otherwise is getting harder every second.

"I’m sorry, but I’ve got an errand to run," I say, forcing myself to step back. "And I need a shirt before I go."

Her gaze flicks over my chest before snapping back up to my face, her cheeks blooming with fresh pink.

"I’m sorry about your shirt. I’ll have it washed and returned," she offers, voice soft.

"Nah. Keep it. Metallica looks good on you. Do you even know who Metallica is?"

Her lips part, close, then part again, like she’s running through a whole internal debate I wish I was privy to. "Ems?"

She snaps back to reality, her eyes glinting with challenge. "Yeah, I know Metallica. I also know Luke Bryan, Johnny Cash, Blake Shelton?—"

Cute.

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