Page 15 of My Cowboy Trouble
"And you'll do them today too. Unless you'd rather explain to Trent why Whiskey's stall isn't cleaned before the vet gets here?"
"The vet's coming?" Billy pales. "But it's not Thursday!"
"Emergency call. Something about Whiskey's—" Gavin pauses for dramatic effect. "Digestive situation."
Billy's shoulders slump in defeat. He looks at Kenzie with the expression of a man heading to the gallows. "Maybe later we could... I mean, if you want... I could show you around town? There's a diner with reallygood pie. And a store that sells those fancy coffee drinks you like. Not as fancy as city coffee but?—"
"That's sweet, Billy. Maybe another time." Kenzie gives him a smile that's gentle but clearly friendzoned.
The poor kid lights up like she just promised to marry him. "Really? That would be—I mean, yeah, cool. Whenever." He trudges off toward the barn, throwing longing looks over his shoulder and nearly walking into a fence post.
"That was cruel," I tell her, opening the passenger door of my truck. Unlike Trent's vehicle, which looks like it's held together by rust and stubborn pride, mine's actually from this decade. "Giving him hope like that."
"I was being nice!" She climbs in, and I catch a whiff of her shampoo—something fruity that definitely didn't come from the ranch supply store.
"Nice is cruel when it comes to puppy love." I start the truck, enjoying the way she has to grab the oh-shit handle when I take the first turn faster than necessary. The road's rough, and she bounces slightly in her seat, her tits jiggling in what's probably some fancy designer bra. "He's probably already planning your wedding."
"He is not."
"Yesterday he asked Gavin what kind of flowers you like."
Her mouth drops open. "No."
"He's going with roses, in case you’re wondering. Red ones. Already priced them at Clara Mae's shop."
"Clara Mae sells flowers?"
"Clara Mae sells everything. Flowers, gossip, ammunition, questionable medical advice. She's like Amazon if Amazon was run by a seventy-year-old woman with no filter."
She laughs, and it's this genuine, unguarded sound that makes something in my chest do things it shouldn't. Things that have no business happening over a woman who's leaving in twenty-six days.
"Poor Billy," she says, but she's still smiling.
"Poor Billy nothing. Kid's living the dream—pretty girl showed up at his workplace, actually knows his name, and smiled at him twice." I glance over at her, taking in the way the afternoon sun makes her skin glow. "Even if she is way out of his league."
"Oh? And what league am I in?"
Dangerous territory. But I've never been one to play it safe. Safe doesn't get you anywhere interesting.
"The kind where cowboys like me have to work for your attention instead of just expecting it."
She shifts in her seat to face me better, and I can feel her studying me. "Is that what you're doing? Working for my attention?"
"Maybe." I pull up to the fence line that needs repair, parking under the partial shade of a scraggly tree. "Or maybe I just like watching you try to figure me out."
"You're not that complicated, Asher."
"No?"
"No." She hops out of the truck, and I follow heraround to the bed. "You're the charmer. The smooth talker. The one who probably has three different girls in town waiting for you to call."
"Two, actually. And one's married now, so she doesn't count."
She rolls her eyes, but she's fighting a smile. "The point is, you think you can negotiate your way into anything."
"Can't I?" I pull the tool bag out, letting my arm brush hers as I reach past her.
"We'll see." She grabs a hammer from the bag, weighing it in her hand. "So what's wrong with this fence anyway?"
