“Things are always tense with her,” I growled. “What the fuck’s the difference?”
He rested his forearms on top of the truck bed. “That,” he said, pointing at me. “You’re all snippy and angry?—”
“I’m always snippy and angry,” I interrupted.
“No arguing there,” he muttered. “But y’all were at each other’s throats all night.”
“You’re imagining shit.”
“Am I?” He raised a brow. “Because at one point, she literally kicked you off the couch. You spent the rest of the night sitting on the floor while she glared daggers at the back of your head and then laughed as you limped outta the house.”
Alright, well, he had a point there, but it wasn’t my fault. Lennox kept digging her feet into my thigh, fidgeting and fussing about not being able to stretch out. Every time she did it, I’d knock them away. It wasn’t until the last half of the movie, after both her parents had fallen asleep, that she was able to throw me off the couch.
If we’d been anywhere else, I would’ve ripped her from her seat and bent that infuriatingly hot little ass over my knee, and turned her ass red. It was the wrong thought because I shouldn’t—I couldn’t—think of Lennox that way. Not anymore.
Not ever again.
Still, it remained there all the same, keeping me up nearly all fucking night. I wanted to act on it so badly, to pull myself free and see if she’d wrap her pretty little lips around my length agai?—
“Dude, what the fuck?” Lincoln asked, bringing me back to the present. He was waving his hand in front of my face, smiling like a jackass. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Can you get your nose out of my business and help me get this shit done?” I knocked his hand away and finished piling the groceries into his truck in silence. There was nothing to talk about. Not as far as I was concerned.
And it needed to stay that way because I struggled enough with keeping my mind off Lennox as it was. Last thing I needed was Lincoln making shit worse.
By the timewe pulled up to the ranch, Lincoln’s truck was loaded down with so much random shit. He stopped by the barn, where a large group of hands stood talking.
I pointed their way. “Y’all doing anything?”
“No, sir. We just finished feeding,” Keith said, stepping up beside me. He was one of the best workers we had—he kept his head down, didn’t start any shit, and was loyal to boot. There were times he’d gotten offers to work at other ranches in the area, but he stayed with Black Springs instead.
“Great,” I said, filling my hands with bags and handing them to him. “Take this to Mrs. Hayes and Cook to see where they want it to go.”
Keith laughed. “Already on it. Cook’s been bitching about the lack of pickles for the past thirty minutes. This’ll make him happy.”
“Thank God,” I muttered. Cook was a great guy, and he did a damn good job at what he did, but he was a bit dramatic when it came to his food. I’d watched him throw things at the hands when they tried combining shit he didn’t think belonged together.
Once, he’d run over and ripped a ketchup bottle out of someone’s hand because they tried putting it on their steak. Though, I didn’t try to stop him on that one. What kind of person does that?
The other workers brought wheelbarrows to carry the bags to the big open field where Cook was set up. He began hollering when it came his way, smiling like someone had just told him he’d won the lottery.
“You’ve saved the day, boys,” he boomed, clapping Lincoln and me on our shoulders and squeezing. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“You can thank us by not breaking our bones,” Lincoln said, disentangling himself. “You can’t expect us to rope shit if we have dislocated shoulders.”
“Yeah, he needs all the help he can get,” I said, pointing toward Lincoln. “He thinks he can beat me at the tie-down competition.”
Cook glanced at Lincoln, raising a prominent, bushy brow. “Really?”
“Hey! I’m a damn good roper,” Lincoln protested.
“I’m sure you are, but…” Cook trailed off, turning back to his prep station. “You haven’t seen Junior here, have ya?”
“Of course, I have. We work together every day.”
“Day-to-day shit is different than competin’. I mean, hell… Anyone can cook a meal, but when push comes to shove, they can’t do what I can,” he said with a smug smile. “I’ve watched Junior here since he came to the ranch, and I can tell you right now that you’re gonna lose every dollar you put up.”
“I will not,” Lincoln said, puffing out his chest.
