Page 21 of My Cowboy Trouble
"Think of it as practice. You're really good at it now."
"Practice?" She unscrews her water bottle, eyes narrowing. "I'll show you practice."
The water hits me square in the chest, cold and shocking in the afternoon heat. She's grinning like a maniac, water bottle raised for another attack.
"Oh, you're gonna regret that, city girl."
"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?" She dances backward, still armed and dangerous with her water bottle. "You gonna sweet-talk me into submission? Talk me to death with your smooth words?"
I push off from the truck, moving toward her slow and deliberate, like I'm approaching a spooked horse. "You really want to know?"
She backs up, but she's laughing, her eyes bright with challenge. "You wouldn't dare."
"Wouldn't I?"
"You're all talk, Asher Holt. All smooth words and no action."
"No action?" I'm close enough now that she has to tilt her head back to look at me. Close enough to see her pulse jumping in her throat like a trapped bird. "Darlin', you have no idea the kind of action I'm capable of."
"Prove it."
Two words. That's all it takes.
I move fast, grabbing the water bottle from her hand and dumping the rest over her head. She shrieks, water cascading down her face and soaking her tanktop. The white fabric goes transparent, and I suddenly forget how to form words.
"You asshole!" She's laughing and cursing at the same time, shoving me with both hands. "That was ice cold!"
"You started it."
"I splashed you. You waterboarded me!"
"Dramatic much?"
She lunges for Clara Mae's pitcher of lemonade, but I catch her wrist, spinning her around until her back is against the fence we just fixed. We're both breathing hard, water dripping from her hair onto my arms where I'm bracing against the fence on either side of her.
"You'll pay for that," she says, but her voice has gone breathy.
"Later," I tell her, my voice dropping low. "When you least expect it."
"Promises, promises."
"I always keep my promises, darlin'."
We stand there, her back against the fence, me crowding into her space, the air between us charged with something that has nothing to do with the Montana heat and everything to do with the way she's looking at my mouth.
"We should get back," she says, but she doesn't move. Her eyes are still on my lips.
"We should."
Neither of us moves.
A horn honks, long and obnoxious, breaking the moment. Gavin's truck pulls up in a cloud of dust, and he leans out the window with that shit-eating grin that means he's about to be annoying.
"Well, well, well. Don't you two look cozy." He takes in Kenzie's soaked shirt and my wet chest. "Having a water fight without me? I'm hurt."
"It wasn't a fight," Kenzie says, ducking under my arm and heading for the truck. "It was a... disagreement."
"Looks like foreplay from where I'm sitting."
