Page 65 of My Cowboy Trouble
"No, I'm the one being called a lucky bastard." He pulls me against him, right there in the parking lot where anyone can see. "And they're right. I am lucky. We all are."
"Gavin, people are watching."
"Let them watch." But he lets me go, opening the truck door for me. "Where's Asher?"
"Still negotiating with Carl."
"Which means Carl's kids are about to lose their college funds." He helps me into the truck, his hands lingering on my waist. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Liar."
"I'm mostly fine."
"Better." He kisses my forehead, then surprises me by adding, "Those guys? Tommy Henderson and Jake Morris. They're idiots who've been stuck in this town their whole lives, getting drunk at the same bar, hitting on the same women who reject them, blaming everyone else for their problems. Their opinions are worth less than the shit we muck out of the stalls."
"Colorful."
"Accurate. And, Kenzie? For what it's worth, I don't care what they say. Neither do the others. You belong at the ranch. With us."
"For twenty more days."
"We'll see about that."
Asher appears, looking pleased with himself, carrying a box of what appears to be drill bits. "Carl caved on the lumber. We're getting it at cost."
"How?" I ask.
"I reminded him that his wife has been buying eggs from Clara Mae instead of his sister's farm. Amazing what people will do to avoid family drama."
"You're evil," I tell him.
"I'm practical. There's a difference." He notices our supplies are loaded. "Ready to go?"
"More than ready," I mutter.
The drive back is quiet, but both of them keep touching me—Gavin's hand on my knee, Asher's fingers brushing mine when he shifts. It's like they're trying to remind me I'm not alone, even though we all know I am. In twenty days, I'll be gone, and they'll still be here, dealing with the gossip I left behind.
"Stop thinking so loud," Asher says, glancing at me.
"I'm not thinking."
"You're overthinking. I can practically hear the gears grinding."
"My gears are fine."
"Your gears are stressed," Gavin says. "Want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Want to make out about it?" he offers hopefully.
Despite everything, I laugh. "You're ridiculous."
"But I made you smile. That's worth something."
It is. It's worth more than he knows.
