Page 20 of My Cowboy Trouble (The Cowboy Romantic Comedies #1)

ASHER

Five-thirty in the morning is my favorite time at the ranch.

It's the only hour where I don't have to be anyone's version of me—not the charmer, not the negotiator, not the guy with the easy smile who makes everything into a joke.

Before Gavin starts his daily shirtless parade, before Trent begins his lists and schedules and controlled chaos, before the world demands we all play our assigned roles.

It's just me, the sunrise, and the quiet possibility of a new day.

Except this morning, it's not just me.

I hear her before I see her—soft humming drifting from the barn, a melody I don't recognize but that sounds like contentment mixed with something else.

Longing, maybe. Or resignation. When I peer inside, Kenzie's standing with Pepper, the mare who's usually skittish around everyone except Trent.

But here she is, letting Kenzie brush her coat with long, careful strokes while humming what might be Taylor Swift or might be Beethoven.

With Kenzie, you never know. She's full of surprises, layers I keep discovering like peeling an onion, each making me want her more.

She's wearing yesterday's jeans—the ones with the rip in the knee from when she caught them on a fence nail—and one of Gavin's flannel shirts that drowns her frame.

The sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, revealing forearms that are no longer pale city-girl white but sun-kissed and marked with the small scars and bruises of ranch work.

Her hair's in a messy bun that's more mess than bun, strands escaping to frame her face, and there's already dirt on her boots even though the sun's barely up.

She looks nothing like the city girl who showed up here ten-plus days ago in designer heels and a dress that cost more than most people's rent. That woman was all sharp edges and defensive walls, ready to fight anyone who suggested she didn't belong.

This woman... this woman looks like she's already home. And that terrifies me more than I want to admit.

"You're up early," I say, careful not to startle Pepper. The mare has a tendency to kick first and ask questions later.

Kenzie doesn't jump, just glances over with a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Couldn't sleep. Figured I might as well be useful."

"Insomnia or overthinking?"

"Both. Plus, Gavin snores like a freight train when he's on his back.

" She focuses on a particularly tangled section of Pepper's mane, working through it with patient fingers.

"And Trent was pacing his room half the night.

I could hear him through the walls, wearing a path in those old floorboards. "

"He was in your room?"

"Gavin was. Just sleeping." She pauses, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "After yesterday's town adventure, I didn't want to be alone. So Gavin stayed. Fully clothed. Hands to himself. Well, mostly to himself. There may have been some light spooning."

"That must have killed him."

"He complained for twenty minutes about blue balls before I threatened to actually give him blue balls with my knee." She smiles at the memory. "Then he just held me. All night. Like I was something precious that might break. It was... nice."

There's something in her voice that makes my chest tight. Wistfulness. Like she's already looking back on these moments from some future where they're just memories.

I move closer, and Pepper eyes me warily but doesn't shy away. Progress. "You're good with this horse. She usually doesn't let anyone but Trent this close. "

"She's just misunderstood. Aren't you, pretty girl?" Kenzie coos to the horse, who actually nuzzles her shoulder in response. "She's not mean, she's just particular about her people. She's been hurt before—you can see it in how she holds herself, always ready to run."

"Sounds like someone else I know."

"I'm not particular. I'm discerning."

"You're living with three cowboys and sleeping with at least one of them. Your discernment might be questionable."

"Two," she corrects, then blushes deeper. "I mean, if we're being technical about it. And keeping score. Which I'm not. Except I kind of am because how do you not keep track of something like that?"

"Just two?" I step closer, close enough to smell that shampoo she uses, the one that makes the whole house smell like her and all the things I shouldn't want this badly. "That seems unfair. Poor Trent, left out in the cold."

"Trent's... complicated."

"We're all complicated."

"He's extra complicated. Like, advanced calculus complicated. You and Gavin are more like basic algebra. Solve for X, find the answer, move on. Trent's all derivatives and imaginary numbers and problems that might not even have solutions."

"I'm not sure if that's an insult or a compliment."

"It's an observation." She moves to Pepper's other side, and I follow, drawn to her like she's got her own gravitational pull. "He wants me but he doesn't want to want me. He thinks I'm temporary but treats me like I'm permanent. He pushes me away then pulls me close. It's exhausting."

"That's Trent. He's been taking care of everyone else for so long, he's forgotten how to take anything for himself. His dad's death broke something in him."

"Tell me about his dad."

I lean against the stall wall, remembering.

"John Mercer was the kind of man they don't make anymore.

Tough but fair. Worked eighteen-hour days without complaint.

Took in strays—horses, dogs, teenage boys who had nowhere else to go.

" I smile at the memory. "He never said much, but when he did, you listened.

And he had this way of making you feel like you mattered, even when the rest of the world was telling you different. "

"He sounds wonderful."

"He was. Died of a heart attack in this very barn eight years ago.

Trent found him. Tried CPR for twenty minutes even though John was already gone.

The paramedics had to physically pull him away.

" I watch Kenzie's face soften with sadness.

"Trent was twenty-four, had just graduated college with a degree in engineering.

Had a job offer in Seattle, a girlfriend, a whole life planned out. Gave it all up to save the ranch."

"Really? And the girlfriend?"

"Couldn't handle the new Trent. The one who worked sunrise to midnight, who carried the weight of the ranch and everyone on it. She lasted six months before she left. Said he loved the ranch more than her." I pause. "She wasn't wrong."

"Wow."

"That's Trent. He doesn't do anything halfway. If he lets himself love you, really love you, it's all-consuming. But he won't let himself. Not again."

"What about you?" She looks at me over Pepper's back, those brown eyes seeing too much. "What do you take for yourself?"

"Whatever I can get away with."

"That's not an answer."

"Sure it is. Just not the one you wanted." I take the brush from her hand, our fingers lingering in the exchange. Her hands are different now—confident, with the occasional blister and calluses forming on her palms. "You know, you're starting to look like an actual cowgirl. Should I be worried?"

"About?"

"You going full country. Next thing we know, you'll be wearing spurs and chewing tobacco."

"The spurs maybe. The tobacco? Hard pass. I've seen what the guys in town spit into those bottles. It's disgusting."

"That's because they have no class. I, on the other hand, am the picture of sophistication."

She laughs, and it echoes through the barn like music. Like hope. Like everything I never knew I wanted. "You negotiated lumber prices by blackmailing a man about his wife's egg-buying habits."

"Sophisticated negotiation tactics."

"You tried to organize my bathroom shelves without permission," she says.

"Sophisticated organizational skills."

"You tried to seduce me against a bathroom counter while Trent watched."

"Sophisticated seduction techniques." I grin at her, moving closer. "Did it work?"

"Almost." She takes the brush back, our hands touching again. This time, neither of us pretends it's accidental. "You're not as smooth as you think you are, Asher Holt."

"But I'm smoother than you expected, Kenzie Rhodes."

She doesn't deny it, just continues brushing Pepper with long, steady strokes. The morning sun slants through the barn windows, turning dust particles into gold and making her skin glow. She looks peaceful, content in a way I haven't seen before. Like she's stopped fighting something.

"You know what?" she says quietly, so quietly I almost miss it. "I think I might actually miss this."

"The horse?"

"All of it. The early mornings that used to feel like torture.

The barn smells I used to hate now smell like work and getting stuff done.

The routine that used to bore me but now gives me purpose.

Even Sir Clucks-a- Lot and his demon ways.

" She pauses, her voice getting quieter. "Especially you three idiots."

My chest tightens like someone's got a fist around my heart. "You've still got nineteen days, Kenzie. That's a long time."

"Not long enough." She sets down the brush and turns to face me fully, and there are tears in her eyes she's trying not to let fall. "I'm starting to think a lifetime wouldn't be long enough."

Before I can respond, before I can tell her that I feel the same way, that these past days have been the best of my adult life, that I wake up every morning excited just because she's here, Pepper decides she's done with social hour and wants her next meal.

She nudges Kenzie toward the stall door with enough force to make her stumble.

I catch her, pulling her against me, and for a moment, we just stand there, her hands on my chest, my arms around her, breathing the same air.

"Asher," she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Of how much I want to stay. Of how much it's going to hurt to leave. Of how you all look at me like I'm already gone."

I tighten my arms around her. "Then don't leave."