Page 100 of My Cowboy Trouble
"That's not what happened."
"Isn't it?" She sets down the pitchfork and turns to face me fully, and the hurt in her eyes is so raw, it makes me physically sick. "You made a bet about me, Gavin. About my failure. You literally wagered money on how quickly I'd give up and run away."
"Because we were idiots!" The words explode out of me, desperate and honest. "Because we were too ignorant and too stupid to see what was right in front of us. But everything changed."
"Did it? Or did you just realize you could have some fun with me before I left?"
"You know that's not true."
"Do I?" She picks up the pitchfork again, using it like a barrier between us. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like everything I thought was real was just part of some elaborate joke. The way you looked at me, the things you said, the way you made me feel like I belonged here, was any of it real, or was I just entertainment for three bored cowboys?"
"All of it was real." I step closer, desperate to make her understand. "Listen to me, Kenzie. Please. Every moment, every touch, every word, especially when you said you might love me too. Tell me that wasn't real."
For a moment, I think I see her walls crack. See a flicker of the woman who was laughing just hours ago. But then she shakes her head, and the ice is back.
"I don't know what's real anymore. How can I? How can I trust anything when it all started with you betting against me?"
"Because you know us. You know me. You know I wouldn't?—"
"I thought I knew you." She turns away, going back to her aggressive stall-mucking. "Turns out, I was wrong about that too."
The dismissal in her voice cuts deeper than any insult could. She's not even angry anymore—she's done. Written us off as a mistake, a temporary lapse in judgment that she's already regretting.
"Kenzie, please. Just listen to me for five minutes?—"
"I listened to you long enough." She doesn't look up from her work. "Listened to you tell me I was beautiful, that I belonged here, that you wanted me to stay. And all of it was bullshit, wasn't it? All of it was just part of keeping the bet interesting."
"No. God, no. The bet stopped mattering the moment I realized I was falling for you."
"When was that? Because I'd really like to know when exactly I stopped being a joke and started being a person to you."
The question hangs in the air, and I realize I don't have a good answer. Because the truth is, it happened gradually. So gradually that I didn't even notice it at first. One day, she was just the city girl we were all betting against, and the next day, she was... everything.
"I don't know," I admit. "It wasn't a moment, it was...it was a process. Watching you work, watching you learn, watching you fight for respect. Somewhere along the way, you stopped being a bet and started being?—"
"Started being what?"
"A partner. A companion. A lover."
She goes still, her hands tightening on the pitchfork handle. For a moment, I think maybe I've gotten through to her. Maybe she's remembering the way she looked at me when I said I loved her.
And then I think she might stab me with the pitchfork.
Instead, she shakes her head again, and when she speaks, her voice is flat. Empty.
"Pretty words, Gavin. But they don't change what you did. They don't change the fact that this whole thing started as a joke at my expense."
"It did. You are right. I can't deny it. But, Kenzie, it doesn't have to end that way."
"Yes, it does." She finally looks at me again, and what I see in her eyes makes my heart stop. Because it's not anger anymore. It's not hurt. It's nothing. She's looking at me like I'm a stranger. "Because I can't trust you anymore. Any of you. And without trust, all the pretty words in the world don't mean anything."
She throws down the pitchfork and walks past me toward the barn door, and I know if I let her leave like this, it's over.
"Kenzie, wait?—"
But she doesn't stop. Doesn't even slow down. Justwalks away without looking back, leaving me standing alone in a barn that suddenly feels empty despite being full of horses.
I punch the stall door so hard my knuckles split, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the ache in my chest. The worst of it is, she's not wrong. We did bet against her. We did think she was a joke. And even though everything changed, even though we fell for her harder than we ever thought possible, that doesn't erase what we did at the beginning.
