Page 39 of The Cowboy's Best Friend

She got up and took a moment to marvel at the fact that she was standing in Boone’s living room, where she had been many, many times before. This time without her jeans on.

That was… something.

She went down the hall to the guest bathroom, and didn’t do anything more than glance toward the far end of the hall where she knew Boone’s bedroom was. But it was a lingering sort of glance, she could admit.

“Get a grip,” she muttered at herself.

Then she set about splashing water on her face and putting her clothes back on. She drained her coffee, then took the time to wash out the mug and place it on his drying board. Then she went outside into the cool morning and realized that however uncertain she might have been about the steps that they’d taken last night, she wasn’t afraid to drive down the hill and see him again.

Afraidwas the last word she’d use to describe it.

She got down to the barn and ran up to the apartment to change from her shoes into boots. Also to throw on the t-shirt she’d made with the new dairy logo on front. Then she went back down and set about doing her job.

If she didn’t act weird, it wouldn’t be weird. Right? Besides, they had actual work to do. There was no time to moon around, thinking about the magic the man could work with his mouth—

“Stop it,” she muttered beneath her breath.

Sierra loaded up all the bottles for her milk run and she didn’t know if she was supposed to go in and tell him she was leaving or kiss him on the cheek while he milked or whatever it was people did when everything changed and yet nothing had…

But she’d never done those things before, so she decided not.

Boone looked up and caught her gaze for a moment when she walked past his milking area. She could see that golden gleam in his eyes and shefeltit, everywhere.

And look at that—she found herself grinning all the way down the ranch’s main drive.

When she got back from the milk run she settled into the office and caught up on their accounts, tracked their social media responses, and carried on working the way she always did until Boone showed up again around lunch.

“Come on,” he said, with a jerk of his head. “We’re going out to lunch.”

“We are?”

Thos eyes of his gleamed again. “We are.”

They didn’t talk much as they drove down into Cowboy Point, but she supposed there was no need. It didn’t feel tense the way it had when they’d gone to get her stuff from Matty’s house in Marietta. That had to be an upgrade.

Once they got over the hill and into the main part of town, Boone pulled the truck up outside the General Store and told her to wait. Then she watched in astonishment as he—a Carey, and therefore a member of the family that had been in a blood feud with the Lisles since the 1800s—marched directly into the enemy’s lair.

It was true that Careys and Lisles interacted a whole lot more these days, given that they were now connected by marriage. But as far as Sierra knew, the Careys still liked to make a point of avoiding the General Store like the plague.

But Boone came out a few minutes later carrying a paper bag, which he handed to her as he climbed back in the truck.

Sierra looked into the bag and saw two sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, two cans of soda—a Diet Coke for her and a regular Coke for him—and a bag of chips to share. There was even a plastic wrapped brownie that she knew for a fact came from the diner next door, where Tennessee Lisle cooked pretty much everything for anyone. This despite the fact that he liked to come across as the least nurturing and most remote citizen of Cowboy Point.

“You’re just crossing lines all over the place these days, aren’t you?” she said.

Next to her, Boone laughed. “No point in maintaining an ancient feud when my brother married Cat. Besides, Tennessee makes a mean sandwich.”

He drove her across the creek and then kept going almost all the way to the little church that sat at the end of this particular road, nearly tucked up against the hillside. He parked in a small clearing and they walked down to the creek, where there were a few tables set out in the shade.

They were in sight of the Copper Mine, back the way they’d come up the length of the creek toward town. There were people there too, and Sierra remembered that someone had said that crotchety old Shane Johnson—the ancient and yet ageless bartender—had been talking about adding a food menu to his offerings. Or possibly a food truck.

She expected Boone to start them talking immediately, but he didn’t. They sat there with the sound of the creek gurgling beside them and birds up above. The pines were tall and pretty, the summer sun beamed down, covering them in light.

All that and she’d kissed him and kissed him.Him.Boone.

Maybe a different kind of angel than the one she’d imagined. One that was significantly… more fallen.

“What do you think?” he asked after he finished his sandwich and was sitting back with his Coke in hand. “Is the friendship ruined?”

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