Page 113 of My Cowboy Trouble
"That you won."
She takes the buckle, turning it over in her hands. It's worn smooth in places, the engraving faded but still readable. I know what it means to him. It's not just a piece of metal. It's a symbol of who he used to be before injury and responsibility took over his life.
"I don't understand," she says.
"I made that bet because I was so damn sure you'd fail. So certain that a city girl couldn't hack it on a ranch, couldn't last a month of real work." He runs a hand through his hair. "But you didn't fail. You succeeded. You proved me wrong about everything."
"So?"
"So you won. You beat the bet, you beat my expectations, you beat every stupid assumption I made about you." He steps closer, his voice getting rougher. "And when someone beats you fair and square, you acknowledge their victory."
"By giving them your belt buckle?"
"By giving them the thing that matters most to you." He pauses, his eyes locked on hers. "That buckle represents the best thing I ever did before I met you. Now, you're the best thing. So it's yours."
Kenzie looks between the buckle and Gavin's face, clearly trying to figure out if this is genuine or just another manipulation.
"This doesn't fix what you did," she says with a sniff, holding her chin high.
"I know. But it's a start. It's me admitting that you're worth more than any stupid bet, worth more than my pride."
She clips the buckle to her belt loop, and I see something shift in Gavin's expression. Relief, maybe, or hope.
"What about you?" she asks, turning to Trent. "What's your gesture?"
"Not a gesture," Trent says. "Something more practical."
He leads us toward the house, but instead of going to the main living areas, he turns down the hallway toward the back. To a section we never use much, the old study that's been storage for years.
But when he opens the door, I realize it's been completely transformed. The dusty boxes and forgotten furniture are gone, replaced by a sleek desk, acomfortable chair, and shelves lined with business books. There's space for a computer and printer, and a whiteboard he must have found in the attic. The windows have been cleaned, letting in natural light, and there are fresh flowers on the desk.
Damn. Trent pulled it off.
"What is this?" Kenzie breathes.
"Your office," Trent says simply. "If you want it."
She steps into the room like she's walking into a dream, running her fingers over the desk, the computer, the books.
"When did you do this?"
"Been working on it a while. But I finished last night. Couldn't sleep, so I figured I might as well do something productive."
"But why?"
Trent leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. He's never been good with words, worse than either of us, and I can see him struggling to find the right ones.
"I… I thought it might make you want to stay."
Holy shit. I know that was not easy for him to say.
"Trent—"
"Not done." With a gulp, he steps into the room, moving closer to her. "I want you here, Kenzie. Not because you fit some idea of what a ranch woman should be, but because you're exactly who you are. Smart, stubborn, capable of things I can't even imagine."
She's staring at him like she's never seen him before. "You set up an office for my PR business?"
"Set up an office for whatever you want to do. PR, ranching, taking over the world. I don't care, as long as you do it here."
