I put a hand on my hip, giving Shep a mock-serious look. “Playing doctor now, are you Shep? Good to see your talents extend past scowling and grunting, although your bedsidemanners could use some improvement.” It’s too much fun riling him up when he makes it so easy.
He rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. “You’re accident-prone enough without adding alcohol to the mix, but if you still want a drink, I’ll make it for you myself.”
My traitorous heart races. I’m such a sucker for his nurturing side and brand of protection. It’s impossible not to swoon when the rugged cowboy is zeroed in on my safety, even if it’s over the top. I’m not much of a drinker anyway, so I’m not bothered by missing out.
I pretend to examine my nails, feigning indifference. “I’ll skip the drinks tonight, but only because I’m confident you don’t know how to make a Bootylicious Blitzen.”
Casey snorts.
“Did I miss the memo that tonight’s ‘Roast the Boss’ night?” Shep complains.
“That’s every night you show up.” Casey’s mouth twitches in amusement as he holds up a hand to signal he’s got more to say. “Before you threaten to fire me, too, did you bring the rocking chair? I’d better get it in my possession before I’m sacked.”
Shep shoots him an exasperated eye roll. “It’s in my truck bed.”
I saw the finished product while he was loading it, and it’s exquisite. His engraving skills are remarkable. The piece looks like something you’d find in a SoHo showroom.
“Thanks, man,” Casey says enthusiastically. “It’s all Amy’s been talking about for weeks, and I can’t wait to see her reaction when I give it to her.”
“It’s nothing.” There Shep goes being modest again. “I’ll grab it from the truck and stash it in my office. I’ve got some paperwork to tackle, including termination forms.” He shoots Casey a subtle smirk before glancing at me. “Want to stay out here or come with me?”
As much as I want to see his workspace, I’d rather people watch. After days away from civilization, I want to take it all in. Besides, if we’re in a cramped space alone, I’d be tempted to distract him, and he probably wouldn’t get anything done.
“I can stay,” I say.
Shep points at Casey. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve got this, no need to fuss.”
“Never said you didn’t, but Casey’s still keeping an eye out for you,” he states curtly.
Unable to resist teasing him one last time before he goes, I rest my palm on his chest, rising to my toes to whisper in his ear. “Yes,Daddy.”
His breath catches, gaze dark and stormy, and I can’t resist watching him struggle to rein in his emotions.
Casey clears his throat, causing Shep to retreat a step, his jaw tight.
“I’ll be back,” he rasps before walking away.
As he heads toward the exit, I catch the subtle flex of his left hand. A smirk crosses my lips, pleased that he isn’t immune to me after all.
I glance at Casey, who’s dragging a hand down his beard as he studies me.
“You’re staring,” I remark.
He shrugs unapologetically. “Just trying to wrap my head around Shep strolling into High Noon with a woman on his arm, and letting you wear his hat no less. Is hell freezing over?”
I tip my head, laughter bubbling up. “Now you’re being dramatic.”
“No, ma’am, I’m not.” He rests against the wall, taking a sip of his beer. “Shepneverflirts with anyone when he’s here. It’s not from a lack of trying on the women’s part, either. The man’s got plenty of admirers. He’s a bona fide rugged cowboy, andthe ladies are constantly vying for his attention,” he says with a wink.
Jealousy coils in my stomach as I scan the room, wondering if anyone here has tried their luck with Shep in the past. I wouldn’t blame them if they had. His muscular frame, mustache flecked with gray, and brooding gaze make him dangerously striking without even trying.
“He’s not exactly the most approachable person,” I agree.
Casey arches a brow. “You think? One time, a woman asked if she could try on his hat, and he threw her out for even asking. He’d wrestle a bull before he let anyone touch the thing. It belonged to his dad, so it’s sentimental.” He tips his head in my direction. “Yet here you are with the thing perched on your head, and he didn’t so much as complain. Shit, he actually looked pleased you had it on.”
I trace my fingers over the brim, each crease and indent a piece of Shep’s story, and I’m humbled he’s trusted me with his family heirloom.
