Page 129 of My Cowboy Trouble
EPILOGUE
KENZIE
Six months later,I'm sitting in my office at seven in the morning, surrounded by invoices that multiply like rabbits and a cup of coffee that's already gone cold, when Gavin appears in the doorway looking like trouble with spurs on.
"Morning, princess. You busy?"
I gesture at the paperwork explosion covering my desk. "Just trying to figure out how we made three times last month's revenue and somehow still need to order more liability insurance."
"That's what happens when you charge city folks to do farm work." He leans against the doorframe, all casual cowboy charm. "Speaking of which, want to come watch the sunrise trail ride? Mrs. Hendersonfrom Phoenix is convinced she's going to see wild mustangs."
"Please tell me you didn't promise her wild mustangs."
"I told her she might see horses running free in their natural habitat."
"Gavin. We don't have wild mustangs."
"We have horses. And they run. Sometimes they're free-ish."
I stare at him. "You mean when they escape from the pasture."
"Exactly. Natural habitat behavior."
"You're going to get us sued."
"That's what the liability insurance is for." He grins. "Come on. You should see her trying to mount a horse in designer boots. It's entertainment gold."
Before I can respond, Asher appears in the doorway behind Gavin, carrying two cups of fresh coffee and wearing a smirk that means he's been eavesdropping.
"Morning, beautiful. Heard you're drowning in your own success." He hands me one of the coffees, which is exactly the right temperature and sweetness because the man pays attention to details. "Need rescue?"
"I need a clone. Or possibly a time machine so I can go back and not suggest this guest ranch idea in the first place."
"Too late for that. Besides, you love being right about everything."
"I love being right about business projections. I'mless enthusiastic about explaining to Mr. Peterson why Sir Clucks-a-Lot attacked his luggage."
"That rooster's got good instincts," Asher says. "Those were ugly suitcases."
"The rooster is a menace. A profitable menace, apparently, but still a menace."
The sound of hammering comes from somewhere near the kitchen, followed by creative cursing that would make a sailor proud.
"Trent fixing something again?" I ask.
"Cabinet door in the guest bathroom," Asher explains. "Mrs. Judge tried to hang her entire wardrobe on it. Apparently city folks don't understand weight limits."
"Or the concept of a closet," Gavin adds. "She asked where the valet service was."
"Please tell me you didn't?—"
"I told her we're very hands-on but she'd have to tip in cash."
"Gavin!"
"What? She laughed. Even gave me twenty bucks."
I drop my head into my hands. "We're running a legitimate business, not a comedy show."
