Page 44 of My Cowboy Trouble
"The roof's shot," he says, but his voice is rougher than usual, and his eyes drift down to my neck where I definitely have a hickey. Or three.
"I noticed." I gesture to the trash can, which is already a quarter full. "Thanks for the update though. Really helpful."
His jaw tightens—that tell I know even better now. Last night, he was fighting the urge to touch me. This morning, he looks like he's fighting the urge to touch me again.
"You need to get back to the main house," he says, his gaze lingering on my lips before snapping back to my eyes.
"Is that an order or a request?"
"It's a statement of fact." He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his soap, and his voice drops. "This roof won't last the storm. And you shouldn't be alone out here."
The weight in that last statement hangs between us.
“Well if you guys had made a little room for me?—"
As if to shut me up, another leak springs up in the corner, water streaming down the wall.
"Shit." I grab another container—a bin with extra blankets, which should be pretty useless—and when I bend over to position it, I hear his sharp intake of breath.
Right. I’m in my panties. And the tank top is basically see-through when wet.
"You should have stayed in the main house." Gavin appears in the doorway, and unlike Trent, he's grinning like he won the lottery. His eyes do a slow scan of my body, lingering on all the places he touched last night. "Morning, princess. Sleep well?"
My face goes hot. "Fine. Great. Normal amount of sleeping."
"Normal," he repeats, his grin widening as he spots what is definitely a bite mark on my shoulder. His bite mark, if memory serves. "Right. That's why you're walking like you rode a bull last night. Oh wait..." He winks. "You kind of did. Three of them."
"Gavin," Trent warns, but even he can't hide the slight smirk.
"What? I'm just saying she looks good all thoroughly?—"
"The guesthouse is flooding," I interrupt loudly. "We need to get out of here."
"For safety," Gavin adds, stepping inside and moving close enough that I can feel his body heat. "Can't have our... owner getting injured. Well, moreinjured." His fingers ghost over the bruise on my neck, and I shiver.
Trent clears his throat. "Just pack your things."
"Need help?" Gavin asks. "I'm excellent with help. Among other things we discovered last night."
"Gavin," Trent warns again, but his eyes are dark as they track Gavin's hand holding my bra.
"What? We're all adults here. Adults who know exactly what each other looks like when?—"
Another leak springs up directly over the bed, soaking the sheets instantly.
"Jesus," Trent mutters, looking up at the ceiling. "This whole roof needs replacing. I told Maybelle years ago?—"
He cuts himself off, jaw clenching.
"You tried to tell my aunt something and she didn't listen?" I ask, trying to act normal while very aware that both men are looking at me like they're remembering exactly how I sounded when I came. "Shocking."
Something in Trent's expression softens, and he steps closer, his hand coming up like he's going to touch my face before he catches himself. "She was stubborn."
"Family trait," Gavin says, moving behind me, not quite touching but close enough that I can feel him there. "Remember how stubborn she was last night? Wouldn't let us stop until?—"
"We're not talking about last night," I say quickly, stepping away from both of them.
Too quickly.
