Page 31 of Dirty Cowboys
Walker says nothing, but his gray eyes flick straight to mine, like he’s trying to read my thoughts.
I pull the sheet higher around my chest and look between the three of them. “We need to talk.”
Duke nods. “Yes, we do.”
I push myself up in the bed, swinging my legs over the side despite the dizziness that hits me.
“Shit, take it easy,” Nash says, moving toward me, but I wave him off.
“I can do it,” I insist.
Walker’s jaw clenches. “Like hell you can. You have a head injury.”
“I’m fine,” I protest, taking a small step toward the door, but my knees buckle.
Duke hurries forward, scooping me up in his arms before I can fall. “No, you’re not. And you’re not walking anywhere until your head stops spinning.”
“I can walk—I just got up a little quickly.”
“No, you can’t,” Duke says, carrying me toward the door. “Let us take care of you instead of being stubborn.”
Nash grins. “Besides, how can we chase you if your legs don’t work?”
Walker shoots him a look. “And when did you decide to do whatever the hell you wanted without talking to us first, Nash?”
“You weren’t here. You have no idea what she needed,” Nash snaps.
“We always talk things through,” Walker throws back. “That’s how this works between us.”
Duke carries me into the living room, with Nash and Walker following behind us still bickering. As Duke sets me down on the couch, my eyes land on a pile of boxes stacked near the fireplace.
“What... why?” I stutter, confused at seeing my things here.
Duke sits in a chair across from me. “The storm damaged your house pretty badly. The roof is gone, and the kitchen window is smashed. It’s not safe to stay there.”
“My stuff?”
“We got what we could,” Duke says. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”
Walker leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Though if you’re staying, you can work to earn your keep.”
He’s in a pissy mood, and his tone comes across harsh, but I think he says it to make me feel better about staying.
“Don’t worry, I can think of plenty of ways she can work off her room and board.”
“Jesus Christ, Nash,” Walker mutters.
I look between the three of them. “I don’t understand what this means or what we are now that I know who you are. I spoke to Nash, but I need to know all your thoughts, not just his.”
“That’s really up to you. Does knowing it’s us change anything for you?” Duke asks.
“I liked not knowing. It made it easier to let go, to be who I wanted to be.”
“And now?” Walker asks.
I’m quiet for a moment, thinking how to admit out loud that even though they were strangers, stupidly I let my heart join the chat, whereas before I just brushed it off. “Now I’m scared because it wasn’t masked strangers I was falling for. It was the three of you. That’s scarier to me than any mask.” I want to slap myself. Who even falls for strangers?
A silly woman like me, that’s who.
