Page 34 of My Cowboy Trouble
I can control myself for twenty-five days.
The doubt starts creeping in before I even reach my truck.
The rodeo grounds are packed,which is typical for a Saturday night. What's not typical is the way every head turns when Gavin's truck pulls up, with me right behind him. Or maybe it is typical for Gavin, but tonight they're not looking at him.
They're looking at her.
I catch up to them just as Kenzie climbs out of the truck, eyes wide as she takes in the scene. The arena's lit up like daylight, country music blaring from speakers that have seen better decades, and the air's thick with dust and the smell of livestock and beer.
"Holy shit," she breathes, and I can see her trying toprocess it all—the cowboys warming up their horses, the girls in their Saturday night best, the kids running around with cotton candy bigger than their heads.
"Welcome to the real Montana," Gavin says, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Not that prettied-up tourist stuff. This is where the actual cowboys come to play."
"And the wannabes," I mumble.
Kenzie spins around. "Glad you came, even if you are grouchy."
"Someone needs to make sure you don't break anything. Including yourself."
"Aw, he cares," Gavin stage-whispers. "Trent actually cares about something besides the ranch."
"Shut up, Gavin."
But Kenzie's smiling at me, this soft, pleased look that makes my chest do things it shouldn't. "Thanks for coming."
"Don't thank me yet. You haven't seen Gavin drunk on adrenaline and cheap beer."
"Hey! I only drink the expensive stuff," Gavin protests. "Sometimes."
We make our way through the grounds, and I try not to notice how Kenzie stays close to me when the crowd presses in. Or how her hand brushes mine when someone jostles her. Or how she smells like something floral that definitely doesn't belong in a place that reeks of manure and nachos.
"Gavin Slade!" A group of female barrel racers spothim and squeal like he's some kind of celebrity. Which, around here, he kind of was before his accident. "We heard you were back! You competin' tonight?"
"Not tonight, ladies." He flashes that grin that used to get him free drinks in every bar across the state. "I'm showing our new friend around. This is Kenzie. She inherited the Dusty Spur."
The temperature drops about ten degrees. Amazing how fast friendly turns to suspicious when property's involved. Competition, too.
From the amused look on Kenzie's face, this is not lost on her. I realize she can handle herself when she stretches to her full height and plasters on a huge, fake-ass smile. No big surprise, really. The woman can give as good as she gets.
I cross my arms and hide my smirk, ready to enjoy the showdown.
"You're the city girl," one of them says, looking Kenzie up and down like she's cataloguing every designer label. "Heard you've been having some... trouble adjusting."
"She's doing fine," I say before Kenzie can respond. The sharpness in my voice surprises everyone, including me.
"Real fine," Asher adds, appearing with beers for everyone. "In fact, she's thinking about competing tonight. Aren't you, Kenzie?"
"I am?"
"Sure you are." Gavin's grin turns wicked. "Can't own a ranch if you can't ride."
"She can barely stay on a horse," I protest.
"I can ride," Kenzie says, chin coming up in that way that means trouble. "I've been practicing with Whiskey."
"You've sat on him twice. While he was standing still. In the barn."
"Still counts."
