Page 66 of My Cowboy Trouble
Trent's waitingby the barn when we pull up, and I can tell from his expression he already knows something happened. He's got that jaw-clench thing going, and his arms are crossed in a way that makes his biceps strain against his shirt.
"How was town?" he asks, but his eyes are on me, scanning for damage like I might be broken.
"Educational," I say, grabbing a bag of feed and heading for the barn. I heft it like it's nothing because I need to do something with all this angry energy.
"Kenzie—"
"I'm fine, Trent. Just need to put this away."
I breeze past him, pretending the whispers aren't still echoing in my head. Gold digger. Slut. City girl. Mail-order bride, for fuck's sake. Who even uses that term anymore?
He follows me into the barn, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. "What happened?"
"Nothing. Just small-town charm at its finest."
"Kenzie."
"What?" I spin to face him, dropping the feed bag with a thud that sends dust swirling. "What do you want me to say? That everyone in town thinks I'm a whore? That they're placing bets on how long before I run back to the city? That they think I'm using you all?"
"Are you?"
The question hits like a slap. The barn suddenly feels too small, too hot, too everything.
"Excuse me?"
"Are you using us?" His voice is quiet, controlled, but I can see something flickering in his eyes. Fear, maybe. Or hope. "Because if this is just some game to you, some ranch adventure before you go back to your reallife?—"
"Fuck you." I throw the next feed bag down harder, and it splits open, spilling grain across the floor. "You know what? Fuck all of you. I've been breaking my back trying to prove I belong here. I've mucked stalls until my hands bled. I've fixed fences in hundred-degree heat. I've patched roofs and wrangled your demon rooster and learned to ride a horse that hates me. I've done everything you've asked and more. And for what? So you can stand here and ask if I'm using you?"
"That's not what I?—"
"Yes, it is. You heard the gossip and part of you believes it. Admit it."
"I don't?—"
"You do. You think I'm some city girl playing cowboy, getting her kicks before I sell this place to the highest bidder."
"Aren't you?"
I stare at him, something cracking in my chest. "I don't know. I thought... I thought maybe..."
"What?"
"Nothing. It doesn't matter." I push past him, but he grabs my arm. Not hard, just enough to stop me.
"It matters. Tell me what you thought."
I look up at him, at this man who's so controlled it hurts, who's been taking care of everyone but himself for so long. "I thought maybe I could belong here, Trent. That maybe this could be home. But you'reright. I'm just playing pretend. The city girl playing ranch. How fucking stupid of me."
I yank my arm free and push past him. "I need to shower. Wash the small-town judgment off me."
"Kenzie, wait."
But I don't wait. I run to the house, up the stairs, and lock myself in my bathroom. I turn the shower as hot as it will go and stand under the spray, trying to wash away the words, the looks, the doubts.
They're right, aren't they? I am leaving. I am selling. I am sleeping with men I have no future with. What does that make me if not exactly what they say?
The water's so hot, it's turning my skin red, but I can't seem to feel it. Everything's numb except the ache in my chest where Trent's words landed.
