Page 10 of His Texas Claim

Gage was already on the phone with the attorney by the time I got my boots back on. Wyatt caught my arm on the way out.

"You good?" he asked.

"Fine."

"You hate people."

"I don't hate people."

"You tolerate people. Barely." He glanced toward the hallway where Bryn had disappeared. "You offered to hike a creek with a stranger."

I didn’t bother responding.

“Good night, Wyatt,” I said.

Then me and Buck stomped back to the truck.

Got in and drove to our little place over by the woods.

And I didn’t think any harder about why I’d offered to help the frog lady.

FOUR

Bryn

Stitches and all, I was sitting on the porch and waiting for Stetson when he arrived at dawn—as promised.

I wasn’t going to wait; I needed to get back to the creek.

Plus…the kids had gotten up early and they were already gathered at the breakfast table, so I’d gotten pancakes out of it.

Stetson got out of his truck, watching me with a scowl on his face. I stood up to try and show him just how tough I was, bouncing a little.

Immediately wincing, then stumbling, then almost tumbling down the stairs⁠—

He caught me.

Again.

“Sit down,” he muttered in my ear, my hands braced on his forearms.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m ready.”

“You just proved you’re not.”

“It was one step!”

“One step you couldn’t take right.” He didn’t let go of me. “You’re not walking the whole creek on that foot.”

“I told you I’m going⁠—”

“I’m not saying we’re not going.”

“But we can’t drive.”

“We’re not driving.” He sighed, shaking his head. “We’ll go on horseback.”

I stared at him. “You’re…you’re an actual cowboy.”