Page 59 of My Cowboy Trouble
"Adults who are going to be the talk of the town," Trent points out.
"Let them talk." I look down at Kenzie. "Worth it."
She looks up at me, then at Asher and Trent, and something passes between all of us. An understanding, maybe. Or just acceptance that whatever this is, we're all in it now.
"Pie?" she offers, holding up the cherry.
"Always," Trent says, and for once, he's actually smiling.
We sit on the tailgate, eating pie out of the tin and watching the sun set, when I realize something that scares the shit out of me.
I'm not just in trouble. I'm falling for her. Hard.
Twenty-something days isn't going to be nearly enough.
But it's what we've got, so I'm going to make every single one count.
Starting with tonight, if that lock on her door mysteriously stops working. Or gets unlocked.
"Stop plotting," Kenzie says, nudging me with her shoulder.
"I'm not plotting."
"Your evil grin says otherwise."
"This is my innocent grin."
"You don't have an innocent grin."
"Fair point." I steal a bite of her pie. "But my plots are fun."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she mutters, but she's smiling.
Yeah, I'm in trouble. The best kind of trouble.
And I wouldn't change a thing.
9
KENZIE
"We need chicken feed,mineral blocks, and..." Trent squints at his list like it personally offends him, then holds it up to the light as if that might make Clara Mae's handwriting suddenly legible. "Something Clara Mae calls 'horse cookies' but refuses to write down the actual brand name. She just drew what appears to be a smiley face with hooves."
"I'll go," I volunteer, probably too eagerly. But honestly, I need to get off this ranch before I do something stupid. Like knock on Gavin's door. Or Asher's. Or Trent's. Or all three, which is becoming an increasingly tempting terrible idea.
It's been two days since the hayloft incident with Gavin, and the tension in the house is thick enough tocut with a knife. Every meal is an exercise in pretending we're not all thinking about sex. Every accidental touch feels like foreplay. And don't even get me started on what happened when we all reached for the coffeepot at the same time this morning. Four hands, one handle, and suddenly I'm having flashbacks to more interesting activities.
"You don't know where things are," Trent points out, still frowning at the list. "Last time you went to town alone, you came back with six bags of cat food. We don't have cats."
"Sir Clucks-a-Lot seemed to enjoy it," I defend myself.
"That explains why he's been following you around. You've been bribing him."
"I've been building a strategic alliance."
"With a rooster."
"With a demon who could peck my eyes out at any moment. So yes."
