Page 69 of My Cowboy Trouble
There's something in her voice that makes my chest tight. Wistfulness. Like she's already looking back on these moments from some future where they're just memories.
I move closer, and Pepper eyes me warily but doesn't shy away. Progress. "You're good with this horse. She usually doesn't let anyone but Trent this close."
"She's just misunderstood. Aren't you, pretty girl?" Kenzie coos to the horse, who actually nuzzles her shoulder in response. "She's not mean, she's just particular about her people. She's been hurt before—you can see it in how she holds herself, always ready to run."
"Sounds like someone else I know."
"I'm not particular. I'm discerning."
"You're living with three cowboys and sleeping with at least one of them. Your discernment might be questionable."
"Two," she corrects, then blushes deeper. "I mean, if we're being technical about it. And keeping score. Which I'm not. Except I kind of am because how do you not keep track of something like that?"
"Just two?" I step closer, close enough to smell that shampoo she uses, the one that makes the whole house smell like her and all the things I shouldn't want this badly. "That seems unfair. Poor Trent, left out in the cold."
"Trent's... complicated."
"We're all complicated."
"He's extra complicated. Like, advanced calculus complicated. You and Gavin are more like basic algebra. Solve for X, find the answer, move on. Trent's all derivatives and imaginary numbers and problems that might not even have solutions."
"I'm not sure if that's an insult or a compliment."
"It's an observation." She moves to Pepper's other side, and I follow, drawn to her like she's got her owngravitational pull. "He wants me but he doesn't want to want me. He thinks I'm temporary but treats me like I'm permanent. He pushes me away then pulls me close. It's exhausting."
"That's Trent. He's been taking care of everyone else for so long, he's forgotten how to take anything for himself. His dad's death broke something in him."
"Tell me about his dad."
I lean against the stall wall, remembering. "John Mercer was the kind of man they don't make anymore. Tough but fair. Worked eighteen-hour days without complaint. Took in strays—horses, dogs, teenage boys who had nowhere else to go." I smile at the memory. "He never said much, but when he did, you listened. And he had this way of making you feel like you mattered, even when the rest of the world was telling you different."
"He sounds wonderful."
"He was. Died of a heart attack in this very barn eight years ago. Trent found him. Tried CPR for twenty minutes even though John was already gone. The paramedics had to physically pull him away." I watch Kenzie's face soften with sadness. "Trent was twenty-four, had just graduated college with a degree in engineering. Had a job offer in Seattle, a girlfriend, a whole life planned out. Gave it all up to save the ranch."
"Really? And the girlfriend?"
"Couldn't handle the new Trent. The one who worked sunrise to midnight, who carried the weight ofthe ranch and everyone on it. She lasted six months before she left. Said he loved the ranch more than her." I pause. "She wasn't wrong."
"Wow."
"That's Trent. He doesn't do anything halfway. If he lets himself love you, really love you, it's all-consuming. But he won't let himself. Not again."
"What about you?" She looks at me over Pepper's back, those brown eyes seeing too much. "What do you take for yourself?"
"Whatever I can get away with."
"That's not an answer."
"Sure it is. Just not the one you wanted." I take the brush from her hand, our fingers lingering in the exchange. Her hands are different now—confident, with the occasional blister and calluses forming on her palms. "You know, you're starting to look like an actual cowgirl. Should I be worried?"
"About?"
"You going full country. Next thing we know, you'll be wearing spurs and chewing tobacco."
"The spurs maybe. The tobacco? Hard pass. I've seen what the guys in town spit into those bottles. It's disgusting."
"That's because they have no class. I, on the other hand, am the picture of sophistication."
