Page 23 of My Cowboy Trouble
"No? Because I thought the point was to fix fences. And we fixed a fence. Actually, we fixed the shit out of that fence. You should see it. It's a thing of beauty."
I watch Trent fight a smile and lose. Just barely, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but it's there.
"Tomorrow," he says. "Section fifteen. And Asher? Try to remember which one that is."
"I'll do my best."
He disappears inside, and Kenzie turns to me. "Is he mad?"
"Nah. If he was really mad, he'd make you do it alone. With Billy supervising."
"That's cruel and unusual punishment."
"That's ranch life, darlin'."
She heads for the house, pausing at the door. "Hey, Asher?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. For today. For the fence and the... talking."
"Anytime."
She disappears inside, and I stand there in the dying light, wondering how someone I've known for three days can make me feel like I've been waiting for her my whole life.
Twenty-six more days. I'm either the luckiest son of a bitch in Montana, or I'm completely fucked.
Maybe both.
5
KENZIE
The coffee is actuallygood this morning. Not city-good, but I've discovered that if I use twice my usual amount of sugar, it becomes drinkable. Almost enjoyable, even. I'm standing on the porch, cradling my mug like it contains the secrets of the universe, watching the sun paint the mountains gold.
It's stupidly beautiful here. Like, offensively gorgeous. The kind of view people pay thousands of dollars for at some bougie resort, except here, it comes with a side of horse shit and a demon rooster who's currently strutting across the yard side-eyeing me, acting like he wants to eat me rather than the other way around.
"Enjoying the view?"
I nearly jump out of my skin. Trent's standing behind me, looking disapproving. I'm starting to think that's just his face. Resting Ranch Boss Face.
"Jesus, you need a bell or something," I say, pressing a hand to my racing heart. "Like a cat. A very large, grumpy cat."
"You're supposed to be at the barn." He looks at his watch, one of those practical things that probably tells time in seventeen different zones and can survive a nuclear blast. "Morning chores started fifteen minutes ago."
"I'm having coffee. It's a sacred ritual. Even prisoners get coffee."
"Prisoners don't inherit ranches."
He has a point.
His eyes narrow at my mug like it personally offends him. "And they definitely don't stand around admiring views when there's work to be done."
"Has anyone ever told you that you'd make an excellent dictator? You've got the disapproving glare down pat. Very authoritarian. Very 'work will set you free.'"
"That's a fascist slogan."
"Exactly my point."
