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I’m jolted on my stool when some busty blonde squeezes between Trevor and me. She leans in close, whispering something in his ear, and then giggles.
And that’s my cue to go.
“Goodnight, Rhett. Linc,” I say, tapping him on the shoulder when I stand up. He gives me an obligatory nod, but he’s too engrossed in a texting war on his phone. Grabbing my purse from the bar, I fling it over my shoulder. Trevor’s heated gaze catches mine over Blondie’s shoulder.
“’Night, Red,” he says when I walk by.
I hate that nickname. Hate. It. Just because I have an untamable mane of red hair doesn’t mean I need the obligatory nickname. Usually I’d rip him a new one for using it, and maybe he’s trying to draw that out of me, but tonight I don’t have the energy.
“Goodnight, Trevor.” I keep walking. The weight of the evening sits heavily on my shoulders as I head for the front door. I reach for the handle and then stop to steal one last glimpse of Trevor, needing a reminder of why I shouldn’t lust after a guy like him—a guy who oozes testosterone, has had more women than I’ve had pedicures, and whose idea of fun is running into a burning building. Only when I look back, Blondie is long gone, and Trevor is watching me.
It shouldn’t make me feel better that she’s no longer perched on his lap, but it does. Maybe the next time I date, it’ll be a guy of my own choosing—someone who isn’t a pencil pusher. Someone more like Trevor.
Smiling, I duck my head and walk out.
3
Claire
“Morning. I come bearing gifts.”
Mo drops the rake and looks up at me.
“And by gifts, I mean caffeine in the form of coffee,” I say, handing her a steaming cup.
Mo brings the cup to her nose, closes her eyes, and takes a big whiff. “You’re a godsend.”
“How’s Peanut? Did she have her baby yet?”
Mo looks exhausted, and I’m certain she’s covered in horse shit, but I refuse to comment on her state of disarray.
“She did.” Mo smiles proudly, as if she herself had given birth. “Mama and baby are doing great.”
“And Mo? How’s Mo doing? Because you look like a feather could knock you over.”
Using her arm, she pushes a chunk of hair out of her eyes. “That’s pretty much how I feel. I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.”
“Jesus, Mo. You should’ve called me sooner. I would’ve come last night to relieve you for a while.”
“I know you would’ve.” Mo blows across the top of her cup and takes a sip of her coffee. “Do you have any plans today?”
“Nothing other than helping you.”
“Good,” she sighs. “Because I really need you to take over here so I can go home and get some rest.”
“Of course. That’s why I’m here. You don’t even have to ask.”
Her shoulders relax as she blows out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I owe you one. And you won’t be entirely on your own. Trevor is here.”
My hand stops midway to my mouth. “Oh.” Slowly, I bring my cup the rest of the way and take a drink.
“Rhett had to drive back to Houston this morning—he and Lincoln are training for their next ride—so Trevor offered to come help out. He’s going to mend a few fences for me and then help you with whatever you need.”
An entire day of ogling Trevor? Yes, please. And if I’m extra lucky, he’ll take his shirt off, and I’ll get to see all of those tight, defined muscles soaked in sweat.
“Sounds good. We’ll get it all done.”
“Are you sure? Because you’ll probably be here until late this evening. I need you to lay new shavings down in Peanut’s stall. She made a mess last night. Plus, I received seven more dogs yesterday, as well as two cats, and then there’s the foal—”
