Page 126 of 11 Cowboys

Allie sighs. “He’s got the bladder of a nervous chihuahua.”

There’s a muffled “I heard that” from the hallway.

A small, startled laugh slips from me, and a flicker of something warm breaks through the weight pressing on my chest. I’m not alone.

When Theron reemerges, he makes a beeline for the kitchen, yanking open cupboards like he owns the place.

“Got chamomile?” he asks.

“Uh… in the back.”

He finds it within seconds, drops a tea bag into a mug, and sets the kettle boiling like he’s done it a thousand times. Then he turns and leans against the counter, his arms crossed over his ridiculous chest and expression calm and kind.

“I told Allie she should’ve let me come up sooner. You shouldn’t have to face this storm alone.”

“I’m not.” I look at Allie gratefully.

Theron’s expression softens. “Good, because we’ve lived through this shit and it’s vicious, yeah. But it isn’t the end. You got brandy?”

I shrug and point at the bottom cupboard. “Maybe in there?”

Theron crouches while Allie mouths “sorry,” like he’s overstepping. He rises, clutching a bottle. “This’ll do.”

He somehow manages to find three glasses with barely any effort and pours a measure of caramel-colored liquid into each. He gathers them in his huge hands and passes them to us. “Medicinal,” he says. “If we were at home, I’d give you Tsipouro.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“You don’t want to know.” Allie knocks back her shot of brandy with a pained gasp. “It’s like a million-proof Greek alcohol that Theron and Gabe drink and rub on any kind of ailment like it’s healing nectar from the gods.”

“It cleared up that rash Carson had, didn’t it?”

“I think the antihistamine did that,” she says, patting his arm. “But I’m sure he was grateful that you tried to help.”

Theron returns to the kitchen to finish the chamomile tea as I sip the brandy. It’s smooth and hot, with a burn that feels oddly comforting.

“He’s sweet,” I mouth to Allie before he returns. She smiles and nods knowingly.

As Theron passes me the tea, Allie says, “Grace thinks you’re sweet.”

He flexes his chest muscles, making his pecs bounce, and his biceps swell. “This looks sweet to you?”

Stunned, I glance at Allie, who bursts out laughing. “Jesus, Theron. She doesn’t need the ‘I’ve got a big dick display.’ She read the article. She saw your dildo mold. She knows. It’s okay.”

Theron’s eyes darken. “No man wants to be called sweet, especially a Greek. We’re warriors. Defenders. Protectors. Just saying.”

“Sweet’s the wrong word,” I correct. “Supportive.”

“Supportive, I can handle. You were supportive of Allie when it counted. We have your back.” He watches while I take a sip of the chamomile tea. “You’ll sleep better with this.”

He crouches in front of me, his forearms resting on his knees. His voice gentles, but there’s steel under it.

“Look. I know we’re not friends exactly. But I want you to listen to me like I’m your big brother for a second.”

I look up at him, surprised, then at Allie, who doesn’t seem surprised at all. “Okay?”

“You think you’re ruined. That this—” he nods toward the phone “—defines you now. That your worth’s been carved out and tossed in the dirt. But that’s bullshit. You hear me?”

I nod because it’s all I can do in the face of his determination.