Page 77 of Drifter’s Heart

“Nope. I can sass you for the next two decades and still come out on top.”

His eyes darken and glitter. “Is that what you need from me? ’Cause I’ll give you that.”

Fuck me sideways and hand me a cowboy. Actually I already have one of my own on call, it seems.

“Uhhh—steak’s ready,” I supply handily.

“Hmmm.” West shoots me a look that promises me we are far from done, and serves up the sort of breakfast I will never, ever refuse.

“Dallas played Uno with me. The fancy version. For four hours, West.” Sally looks at him pointedly that screams benchmark set.

I snuffle a snort behind my hand as we head for Valiant Peak. Coyote Falls recedes behind us, the enormous property that takes up literal mountainsides and golden grass fields little more than a flurry of contrasting color in my wing mirror.

“You’re in trouble,” I murmur, keeping my voice low as Sally carries on, unaware.

West sends me an amused sideways glance. None of our brand of crazy seems to bother him, though it does me. At some point the penny will drop and he’ll have enough.

Enough of our clinginess, enough of our chatter. Sally’s loud. I’m loud. The two of us together? Cacophony from hell in the small space of his pickup cab for the next few hours.

“We’re gonna go by Dallas’s place,” West interrupts Sally’s flow smoothly. “You can tell him yourself, tiny chicken.”

Sally stops talking and bounces in her seat. “We are? I love Aveline. She’s so soft-spoken and graceful. And she plays music. I think some of it is hers, even,” she tells me.

“Really?” I ask, but she’s already turned back and is speaking to West.

“Did you know—” She’s off on whatever has caught her interest in the back of Aveline’s shed. Nothing rusty, I hope as I cast an eye over her hands and arms. Maybe I should check her feet too? I never thought to give her a tetanus shot.

“Stop,” West murmurs. “She’s fine.”

“You don’t know that,” I hiss, sending him the stank eye. That thing is in high demand right now.

He brushes his knuckles across my cheek and then rests his arm over the back of my shoulders. “Relax, Winnie. The world hasn’t ended, and you’re okay. It’s okay to let go now. He’s not here.”

Fail.

Of all the things that West could have said, that one is my trigger.

“Fu—”

“Frog legs,” he says firmly, and pulls over. “I think there are frog legs stuck under my front wheel. Winnie. Are you game to check them with me?”

“That better be a damn big frog,” I mutter.

“Nibble your toes off.”

“I wanna see!” Sally cranes about, searching for the incident.

I snap her seat belt back into place. “Stay. Here. Got it?” I warn her.

“Yes, Mom.” She looks downcast until West passes her his phone, flipping over to his videos.

“Some of the rodeo clips on there. You can go through all of them,” he reassured her. “And then there’s lots of Dustan falling off the bull, okay?”

Sally cheers quietly, already engrossed.

“Better not be anything else on that phone she’s not supposed to see.” The stank eye is back, but West is out of the truck and walking around the front.

He crouches to check the front wheel of the biggest, most imaginary frog that was never squashed. “Winnie.” He cups my jaw when I crouch next to him. I try to skitter backward, but his grip is firm. “I upset you.”