Page 37 of Wrangled Love

Briar: For rescuing a chicken? Highly doubtful.

Wren: Technically, it was a bird-napping.

I shake my head, amused with their concerns.

Charlie: I can’t go to jail. Do you know what orange does to my complexion?

Wren: Montana’s state prison issues dark green uniforms.

Charlie: Whew. I was worried I’d clash with the walls.

Birdie: You’re worried about matching your cell?!

Birdie: Did you miss the part where WE COULD GO TO JAIL?!

Wren: I promise to write you letters weekly.

Charlie: Birdie, stop panicking. Your dad’s the sheriff—he’d never arrest you. Me and Briar? Different story.

Briar: We saved a chicken from being slaughtered. That has to count for something.

Birdie: Shh! Keep the murder talk to yourself. Nugget is still processing.

Wren: I still can’t believe younamedthe chicken.

Birdie: Of course I did. She’s part of the family now.

I smile. Her fierce loyalty to animals never ceases to amaze me.

Charlie: She better not expect a phone plan.

Birdie: Too late. She already picked out her ringtone.

Briar: We need to lie low. No more rescue missions for a while, okay?

Birdie: Copy that.

Charlie: Why do I get the feeling Birdie’s version of “lying low” means a herd of sheep on her porch by sundown?

“Looks like someone’s enjoying their conversation.” I lift my head when I hear Jensen’s voice. He’s propped against the doorway, watching me. “Maybe I’d stand a better chance of getting your attention if I text you, too.”

“Depends. Are you any good with emojis?”

“Nope, but I have some pretty good pickup lines that’ll make you laugh.”

“Go ahead, hit me with your best shot,” I challenge.

I lift a brow, puzzled when he pulls out his phone and starts typing. A second later, mine buzzes with a new message. We exchanged numbers on my first day nannying for Caleb in case he ever needed to get in touch while we were out.

Jensen: Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got “FINE” written all over you.

I shake my head, fighting a grin. He was right. Funny but ridiculously cheesy.

Briar: If I’m a ticket, you’re about to get fined for that terrible pun.

Jensen: I deserve a redemption line, don’t you think?

Briar: Well?

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