Page 20 of Drifter’s Heart

And you’re offering to take my offspring? You are crazy, lady.

Sally’s super sweet. And she’s just like you.

Therein lies the problem.

The worst thing is that I know Sally’s safe with Cord. I love my brother to pieces. I always have, regardless of how I feel about him train-smashing into our life with his enthusiastic brand of affection trying to fill the gaping holes in mine. Sally adores him too. We have some other trust issues that run deep, mostly about money, independence, and control, but Sally shouldn’t come into those. At least, I try to make sure she doesn’t. My issues are mine and my brother’s.

I tuck the lonely capybara under my arm as Cord’s truck pulls away from the front of my house, the engine the loudest thing around town. Without either of them here, my overstuffed home is more silent and empty than ever.

With three days off before my next shift—the three days I just handed my offspring to Cordell for—I have nothing to do. I pad about the rooms, picking Sally’s things up aimlessly and putting them in safe places where we both probably won’t find them later. My phone buzzes on the sofa. I spend five minutes digging the device out from beneath the laundry pile to find West’s name flashing on my screen.

Just saw Cord’s truck scream past with Sally. Do you need an assist?

Rand?

I cough at his prompt even as my thumbs betray me, typing back a quick response.

Cord’s taking her for a few days. They’re running errands today then back to Coyote. I’m free for me time. It’s perfect.

…

…

Spit it out. Don’t be shy, cowboy suit man.

Now there’s an image. But you’re full of shit.

I beg your pardon?

You watch too much Brit TV. I saw the watchlist that you binged back at Coyote.

Stop avoiding the question.

Bossy woman. You hate time by yourself.

Do not.

Cute, Rand. Denial suits you. Want company?

…

I sit on his offer, reading over the conversation. My thumbs type out yes/no over and over again, deleting my answer until I put my phone down. It buzzes again. I groan, like he’s annoying me.

That offer doesn’t expire, Rand.

The one where you leave me alone?

You’re the one who asked for a ride the other night. A full-service date to the door, right?

I bite my lip. Shit. I did say that. So I was a little mouthy at West. Hell, that cowboy deserves plenty of sass, and I usually deliver to him in heavy doses. Post-midnight Winnie is no exception.

Good to know I have a booty call when I need one. Thanks x

I lick my lips, waiting on his response.

My phone stays silent. Either I’ve flirted past his comfort range—possible—or I’ve pissed him off. Also possible.

A creak from the doorway (which is still open. Cord will have a field day) tells me I have a creeper who forgot her stuff.