Page 31 of My Cowboy Trouble
"Don't push it."
"Too late. I'm getting it embroidered on a pillow. 'Not bad' - Trent Mercer, a date which will live in infamy."
"You're impossible."
"And yet, not bad."
He's fighting a smile now. I can see it. "You missed a spot in the tack room."
"I did not!"
"Behind the saddle racks."
"That's not a spot, that's a design choice. I left it rustic."
"Rustic."
"It's very Montana."
Now he does smile, just a little, and it transforms his whole face. Gone is the stern taskmaster, and in his place is someone younger, lighter, almost approachable.
"Hey there, party people!"
The moment shatters. Gavin strolls into the barn, already dressed for a night out in jeans that should be illegal and a shirt that's unbuttoned one button too many.
"We're working," Trent says, the smile vanishing.
"Work's over. It's time to play." Gavin grins at me. "You ready for the rodeo, princess?"
"What rodeo?"
"The one I'm taking you to. Tonight. Dancing, drinking, and if you're really lucky, you might get to see me ride a mechanical bull."
"I haven't agreed to any of this."
"Sure you have. It's part of your ranch education. Can't own a ranch if you've never been to a proper rodeo." He winks. "Besides, you need to see me in my natural habitat."
"A bar is your natural habitat?"
"Among other places." His grin turns wicked. "Wear something pretty. Or don't. You look good in everything. And nothing, I'm betting."
"Gavin," Trent warns.
"What? I'm being hospitable. Showing our new owner the local culture." He saunters over and throws an arm around my shoulders. "Plus, she needs to learn how to two-step. It's basically a job requirement out here."
"I don't dance."
"Everyone dances after enough whiskey."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's not supposed to be." He steers me toward the door. "Go get changed. We leave in thirty."
"But—"
"Twenty-nine minutes now."
I look back at Trent, not sure why I'm seeking his permission or approval or... something.
