Page 64 of My Cowboy Trouble
"And anyone."
"Maybe when she's done with them, she'll lower her standards enough for us regular folks."
They laugh, an ugly sound that makes my hands clench into fists. I focus on lifting the feed bag, pretending I can't hear them.
"Hey, sweetheart," one calls out. He's missing a tooth and apparently basic human decency. "When you're done with them, maybe you could show us some of that city hospitality. We're real friendly here in Montana."
"Real friendly," the other echoes, and the way he says it makes me want to shower.
"Or maybe," the first one continues, emboldened by my silence, "you don't have to wait. I heard you can handle multiple?—"
"Finish that sentence and I'll finish you."
Gavin appears beside me, and the playful cowboy is gone. In his place is someone dangerous, all barely controlled violence and protective fury. His hands are clenched, knuckles white, and there's a vein pulsing in his neck that I've never seen before.
"We were just talking," one of the men says, but he takes a step back. Smart move.
"No, you were being disrespectful assholes." Gavin moves closer to them, and I realize he's actually bigger than both of them. Taller, broader, and currently radiating the kind of energy that makes smart people run. "And now you're going to apologize to the lady."
"For what? Everyone knows?—"
Gavin's fist connects with the truck beside the man's head, leaving a dent that's going to be expensive to fix. The sound echoes across the parking lot like a gunshot.
"Apologize. Now."
"Sorry," they mutter, not looking at me.
"Louder. And look at her when you say it."
"We're sorry, miss."
"Now get the fuck out of here before I decide an apology isn't enough and rearrange your faces to match your loser personalities."
They scramble into their truck and peel out of the parking lot, leaving rubber on the asphalt. Gavin watches them go, his jaw clenched so tight, I'm worried he'll crack a tooth.
"You okay?" he asks, turning to me. His knuckles are bleeding from hitting the truck.
"Your hand?—"
"It's fine. Are you okay?"
"I didn't need you to defend me."
"I know." He touches my face gently, a complete contrast to the violence from seconds ago. His thumb traces my cheekbone with impossible tenderness. "But I wanted to. Nobody talks about you like that. Nobody."
"People are going to talk, Gavin. It's a small town, and I'm?—"
"You're what?"
"I'm the city girl sleeping with three cowboys. That's what everyone thinks."
"You've only slept with one cowboy recently," he points out with a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Though we could fix that."
"Gavin."
"I'm serious. Fuck what they think. Let them talk."
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one being called a gold digger. Or worse."
