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Hell, I wanted her to leave Dallas, didn’t I? I begged her to expand her horizons, to see the world outside of this place, to crawl into the catapult that would launch her into her headiest dreams.
I knew she’d make something out of her life if she had nothing binding her here.
Aside from this pig stunt, everything I’ve heard from Marty tells me she’s well on her way to doing just that.
“I guess I should thank you for rescuing me. You’re hardly a gentleman, but you did save my life, so...thanks, West.” Using one hand, she flicks her dirt-flecked hair away from her face, her evergreen eyes guarded.
I shrug. “I had a pig to rescue, didn’t I?”
Her lip curls as she glares at me.
Swallowing a chuckle, I reach forward to pinch her cheek.
That always annoyed her enough to get a laugh in the past.
Looks like it still works. She holds her ragey face for two more seconds before a pained laugh claws its way out.
I regret how transfixed I am on her smile, her face lighting up in this hot flush of laughter and sheer irritation.
“Whatever!” She slaps my hand away, adding under her breath, “Jerk.”
“Brat,” I fire back.
“Somehow I don’t think you even like the pig,” she says.
I lift a brow. One that says maybe I don’t like her much, either, and knowing full well I’m lying to myself about both of them.
“God, Weston. I forgot how big an ass you can be,” she says, wrinkling her face up.
“And you, Shel, are still a royal pain in mine.”
“What the hell, guys? Are you okay?” Marty shouts as he comes rushing in, followed by a smattering of bystanders who were happily glued to the stands only minutes ago.
Before either of us can answer, Marty levels a gaze on her.
“Sis, what were you thinking? Scaling the fence to save Hercules? He’s been around the block at the county fair with tons of noise and farm equipment. He’d have gotten out of the way!” Marty waves his arms frantically, throwing us both a wild-eyed look.
Leave it to my buddy to blow my cover story about saving the pig and not her.
“The only reason he didn’t move sooner was because you distracted him, running up with your shirt twirling over your head like some crazy cowgirl. Shit.” Marty blabs on, letting out a loud beer hiccup.
“Whose pig is he, anyway?” She huffs out a breath.
Marty points at me with a grin. “You’re looking at the owner.”
She levels another one of her snarky-ass evil eyes on me. I shouldn’t let those emerald eyes of hers rouse this heat in my blood, even stronger than before.
Marty slaps my shoulder, snapping me out of my dumb trance.
“See, Weston? It’s just like I told you. Some things never change. She’s barely been back for a day and she already needed you to come charging in like Batman. Just like old times, dude.”
I nod slowly, watching Shel’s face turn to red.
Old times indeed.
Times I don’t want to deal with while she’s back in town—briefly, I hope.
“You guys can both suck a rotten egg,” she snaps under her breath.
