Page 72 of My Cowboy Trouble
"What did he do?"
"Made me breakfast. Didn't ask questions. Didn't call the cops, even though he knew the truck was stolen. Just said if I was going to sleep in his barn, I might as well work for the privilege. That turned into a week, then a month. He called the Johnsons, worked something out. They didn't press charges. Even sent my stuff."
"That was kind of them."
"It was more than I deserved." I stare out at thepasture, watching the cattle start their slow morning movement. "John—Trent's dad—he never tried to be my father. Never pushed. Never asked about my mom or why I ran. Just gave me space to exist and work to keep me busy. Taught me about ranching, about hard work, about being a man. Saved my life, really."
"Do you ever wonder what happened to the Johnsons?"
"I know what happened. They send Christmas cards every year. Their biological daughter just had a baby. They named him after me." I laugh, but it's shaky. "Asher Johnson-Smith. Poor kid."
"That's incredible."
"That's guilt. They think they failed me."
"Did they?"
"No. Hell no. I failed myself. I failed them. But I was fifteen and stupid and scared of being happy." I look at her, really look at her, memorizing her face in the morning light. "Sometimes I still am."
A slight smile crosses her lips. "Well. Are you seriously trying to win my sympathy with a tragic backstory right now? Because it's working, and I'm mad about it." She squeezes my hand, the perfect balance to her well-timed snark.
I laugh. "Is it working?"
"Annoyingly well. I'm practically swooning over here."
"Good to know for future reference."
"Don't push it." But she's smiling now, and the heavyweight of my past seems lighter somehow. "What else should I know about the mysterious Asher Holt? Scared of being happy?"
"Scared of wanting things I can't keep." The words hang between us, heavy with meaning. "Scared of believing in something just to have it ripped away. Scared of being left behind again."
She's quiet for a moment, then, "Well, this is either the most elaborate seduction technique ever, or you're actually being vulnerable with me. Either way, it's irritatingly effective."
"Can't it be both?"
"Knowing you? Probably." She turns to face me fully, pulling one leg up on the fence. "Is that what I am? Something you can't keep?"
"Aren't you?"
"I don't know anymore." She looks out over the pasture, the cattle shadows long in the morning light. "Three weeks ago, I had a plan. Do my thirty days, sell the ranch, make a fuck-load of money, and go back to my life. Simple. Clean. No complications."
"And now?"
"Now I can't imagine going back to that life. To a city where you can hear your neighbors fighting through paper-thin walls. To subway commutes where everyone avoids eye contact like human connection is contagious. To clients who think they're God's gift to marketing and treat everyone else like servants. I can't imagine waking up without seeing mountains.Without hearing Gavin singing off-key in the shower—and he's always off-key, have you noticed? Or watching Trent pretend he's not a complete softie with the animals when he thinks no one's looking. Without..."
"Without what?"
"Without you making me feel like I'm more than just a city girl playing dress-up. Without you looking at me like I'm worth knowing. Worth keeping."
I turn her face toward me, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "You are more. You're way more, Kenzie."
"Am I? Because yesterday, half the town was calling me a gold-digging whore."
"Yesterday half the town proved they're idiots with nothing better to do than judge people they're jealous of."
"What are they jealous of?"
"You. Your freedom. Your choices. The fact that you walked in here and shook everything up without even trying." I lean closer. "The fact that you've got three men looking at you like you hung the moon."
