Page 97 of My Cowboy Trouble
"Together," Asher adds, and there's a promise in the way he says it.
"Together," I agree.
As the sun sets outside the window, painting the mountains gold and purple, I take another bite of my apple and let myself believe. That this is home. That I belong here. That tomorrow, and the day after that,and all the days stretching out ahead of us, we'll keep building something worth keeping.
Something worth staying for.
Something worth fighting for, if it comes to that.
Because fifteen days might not be enough time to figure out all the logistics and practicalities of making this work permanently. But it's enough time to know that I want to try.
And for the first time since I inherited this ranch, that feels like enough.
14
GAVIN
I'm replacinga broken board on the front porch when I hear Clara Mae's truck rumbling up the drive, kicking up dust like her pants are on fire. Which, knowing Clara Mae, she probably thinks are. The woman has a sixth sense for drama and an irresistible urge to stick her nose into other people's business.
"Afternoon, Gavin!" she hollers, climbing out of her truck with more energy than a woman her age should have. She's carrying a covered dish—probably another one of her famous casseroles that tastes like cardboard but somehow keeps showing up at every ranch function.
"Clara Mae," I acknowledge, not lookingup from my work. Maybe if I keep busy, she'll deliver whatever gossip she's peddling and move along.
"Where's that sweet little city girl of yours?"
"She's not mine," I say automatically, then immediately regret it. Because that's not true anymore, is it? After yesterday in the tack room, after the way she looked at me when I said I loved her, after everything that's been building between us—she is mine. Ours. Whatever the hell we're calling this thing.
"Oh, honey," Clara Mae laughs, that cackling sound that usually means she's about to say something that'll piss me off. "Don't try to play innocent with me. The whole town knows about your little arrangement."
My hammer freezes mid-swing. "What arrangement?"
"The bet, sugar. About how long she'd last before running back to the city with her tail between her legs."
Ice forms in my stomach.
"Don't play dumb. Half the town has money on it. Though I have to say, I'm impressed with how long you boys kept her interested. Must have been quite the performance."
"Clara Mae?—"
"’Course, everyone knew it couldn't last forever. Pretty city girl like that? She was never going to stay with three cowboys in the middle of nowhere. The bet was just whether you'd get her to put out before she figured out you were all laughing at her behind her back."
"That's not—" I start, but Clara Mae's already moving past me toward the house, still talking.
"Smart of you boys to make sure you got something out of it before she left. Can't blame a man for taking what's offered, especially when everyone knows it's temporary. Though I do feel a bit sorry for the poor thing. Probably thought you actually cared about her."
The front door opens, and Kenzie steps out, probably drawn by Clara Mae's voice. She's got that easy smile on her face, the one that's become more frequent over the past few weeks. The one that says she's happy here, comfortable, maybe even falling in love with this place. With us.
"Clara Mae!" she says warmly. "What brings you by?"
"Just thought I'd check on you, honey. See how you're holding up." Clara Mae's voice is dripping with false sympathy. "Must be hard, knowing the truth about why you're really here."
Fuck me.
Kenzie's smile falters slightly. "I'm sorry?"
"About the bet, sugar. About how the boys never expected you to last a month. Though I have to say, they certainly got their money's worth, didn't they?"
I watch Kenzie's face change, watch the color drain from her cheeks as Clara Mae's words hit her like physical blows. The moment Kenzie’s understanding dawns is followed immediately by hurt so raw, it makes my chest ache.
