Page 32 of My Cowboy Trouble
"Go," he says quietly. "You've earned it."
"You could come too," I offer, surprising myself.
Something flickers across his face. "Someone needs to stay with the ranch."
"The ranch won't run away."
Before I can respond, Gavin's pulling me out of the barn. "He'll come, princess. He's just playing hard to get. After all, he's practically allergic to fun. Breaks out in hives and everything."
"I heard that," Trent calls after us.
"You were supposed to!"
As Gavin drags me toward the house, chattering about the rodeo and all the trouble we're going to get into, I glance back at the barn. Trent's standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the fading light, watching us go.
For a second, just a second, he looks lonely.
Then he turns and disappears back into the barn, back to his work and his routines and his proper procedures.
"Earth to Kenzie!" Gavin snaps his fingers in front of my face. "You with me?"
"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking."
"Don't hurt yourself. Save your energy for tonight." He grins. "You're gonna need it."
"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"
"Because you probably will. The best nights always come with regrets."
"That's terrible advice."
"That's experience talking, princess."
I head into the house to shower and change, but I can't shake the image of Trent standing alone in that doorway. Or the way he'd said "not bad" like it cost him something to admit.
Or the way he'd looked at me in the feed room, like he wanted to do a lot more than argue about shortcuts.
Twenty-five days.
I'm starting to think that's both too long and not nearly long enough.
6
KENZIE
I'melbow-deep in Whiskey's hoof, digging out a stone that's been bothering him all day, when I hear her laugh. It's bright and genuine, floating through the barn doors like it belongs here. Like she belongs here.
She doesn't.
Twenty-five days left. I've been counting every single one since she arrived, and that blasted Gavin's determined to make me lose track.
"You sure this is safe?" Kenzie's asking as I straighten up, my back protesting from being bent over for the last twenty minutes. She's standing by Gavin's truck in jeans and a white tank top that's going to be transparent the minute she starts sweating. Her hair's down, falling in waves around her shoulders, and she's wearing actual boots. Not the fancy ones withfringe—real boots. Someone's been to the general store in town.
Christ.
"Safe is relative," Gavin's saying, holding the passenger door open like some kind of gentleman we all know he's not. "But don't worry, princess. I'll protect you from all the big bad cowboys."
"What about protecting me from you?"
