Page 22 of My Cowboy Trouble (The Cowboy Romantic Comedies #1)

The gate to the south pasture has been broken for months, held together with baling wire and what Gavin calls "cowboy engineering" but is really just hope and duct tape.

It's been on Trent's list forever, but somehow never makes it to top priority.

It's the perfect excuse to keep Kenzie to myself for a few more hours.

"This is a disaster," she says, poking at the rusted hinge with obvious disgust. "How is this even standing?"

"Spite, mostly. This gate's too stubborn to fall down completely."

"Sounds like someone I know." She grins at me. "So what's the plan? Or are we just going to stare at it until it fixes itself?"

"First, we remove the old hinges." I hand her a wrench. "Then we pretend we know what we're doing until something works."

"That's your plan? Fake it till you make it?"

"That's my life motto."

"That explains so much." She takes the wrench, testing its weight. "You know, I fixed a fence with Gavin. He actually knew what he was doing."

"Gavin knows about fences. I know about gates. Totally different skill set."

"Sure it is." She starts working on the first bolt, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration. It's adorable and sexy and makes me want to kiss her senseless. "This is really stuck."

"Here, let me?— "

"I've got it." She puts more muscle into it, and the bolt finally gives. "See? I don't need a big strong man to save me."

"Never said you did. But sometimes it's nice to have help."

"Sometimes," she agrees, moving to the next bolt.

We work in comfortable rhythm, and I try not to notice how her tank top rides up when she reaches for tools, exposing a strip of skin that's somehow more tantalizing than seeing her completely naked. There's something about the tease, the suggestion, that's almost better than the real thing.

Almost.

"Hold this," she says, pressing against me as she tries to align the new hinge. Her ass is right there, perfect and round in those painted-on jeans, and I have to think about lumber prices and feed costs and anything else boring to keep from embarrassing myself.

"Got it?"

"Yeah." My voice comes out rougher than intended.

"You okay back there?"

"Perfect."

"Liar. You're thinking about sex."

"I'm always thinking about sex. It's my default setting."

She laughs, wiggling against me in a way that's definitely intentional. "Even during gate repair?"

"Especially during gate repair. Very erotic, gates."

"You're ridiculous. "

"You like ridiculous."

"I do." She turns in my arms, the gate forgotten. "I really do."

The heat in her eyes makes my blood surge. "Kenzie..."

"I know we should finish the gate." Her hands slide up my chest. "But I can't stop thinking about yesterday. About you defending me without me asking. About you holding my hand this morning. About you telling me things you don't tell anyone. About how you look at me like..."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm worth it. Worth the risk."

"You are." I press her back against the fence post, caging her in. "You're worth a hell of a lot."

She kisses me, and this time there's nothing soft about it. It's all heat and need and three weeks of tension finally snapping. Her hands are in my hair, her body pressed against mine, and I forget we're outside where anyone could see.

"Asher," she gasps when I kiss down her neck. "Someone might?—"

"Let them." I lift her onto the fence rail, stepping between her legs. "Let the whole damn town see that you're ours. Mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine right now. In this moment. Mine."

She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. "Then take me. "

"Here?"

"Here. Now. I don't care who sees." Her eyes are dark with want, with need, with something that might be desperation. "I need to feel something real. Something that's just us. Not the ranch, not the town, not the countdown. Just us."

That's all the permission I need. I kiss her again, deep and possessive, my hands sliding under her tank top to find warm skin. She moans into my mouth, her hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that's making me crazy.

"Too many clothes," she pants, pulling at my shirt.

"Someone's eager."

"Someone's been making me wait while we pretended to fix a gate." She gets my shirt off, her hands immediately exploring my chest. "I don't want to wait anymore. I'm tired of waiting, tired of thinking, tired of counting days."

I lift her off the fence and set her on her feet, then spin her around so she's facing the rails. "Hold on."

"What are you—oh."

I press against her back, my hands sliding around to unbutton her jeans. "Still want this?"

"Yes. God, yes. Please, Asher."

I slide my hand into her jeans, finding her already wet and ready. "You've been thinking about this."

"Since this morning. Since you looked at me like I was worth keeping."

"You are." I work her with my fingers while kissing her neck. "You're worth everything, Kenzie. Worth the risk, worth the pain, worth whatever happens in nineteen days."

I work her clit, wet and juicy, and ready. She comes apart quickly, my name on her lips, her body shaking against mine. Before she can recover, I'm undoing her jeans, pulling them down just enough, just below the smooth flesh of her ass.

"Someone might see," she says, but she's pushing back against me, open and wanting.

"Good." I undo my own jeans, pressing against her. "Let them see how good you look when you're mine. Let them see that you chose us. Chose this."

I slide into her slowly, savoring her gasp, the way she grips the fence rails. Then I'm moving, one hand on her hip, the other tangled in her hair, and she's meeting me thrust for thrust.

"Harder," she demands. "I want to feel you tomorrow. I want to remember this."

"As if you could forget."

I give her what she wants, what we both want, until she's crying out, not caring who hears. When she comes, I follow, her name spilling out of me.

We stay there for a moment, breathing hard, still connected. Then she laughs, soft and satisfied but also sad.

"The gate's still broken."

"The gate's perfect." I kiss her shoulder. "Everything's perfect. "

"Nothing's perfect. Perfect doesn't exist."

"This moment is. Right now, right here, this is perfect."

We fix ourselves, stealing kisses and touches, and eventually get the gate actually repaired. But something else is broken now—the wall I've kept around my heart.

I watch her walk back to the house, her hair a mess, her clothes rumpled, a smile on her face that's pure satisfaction mixed with something else. Melancholy, maybe. Or resignation. She looks back once, winking at me before disappearing inside.

I stand there like an idiot, tools in hand, realizing I'm completely fucked.

Not just physically, though that was incredible. But emotionally. Completely. Thoroughly fucked.

I'm in love with Kenzie Rhodes.

The realization doesn't hit like lightning. It settles over me like morning mist, slow and inevitable and impossible to escape. Of course I love her. How could I not? She's everything I never knew I wanted and everything I was afraid to need.

It's not just the sex, though that's amazing.

It's not just her smart mouth or the way she challenges me.

It's the quiet moments. The vulnerability.

The way she didn't pity me when I told her about my mom, just held my hand and made snarky jokes to lighten the mood.

The way she hums when she's happy. The way she's carved out a place here without even trying.

It's the way she looks at me like I'm worth knowing, worth keeping, worth loving.

"You look like someone just hit you with a two-by-four."

Gavin's leaning against the barn, that knowing smirk on his face. But there's understanding in his eyes too.

"Just thinking."

"About Kenzie?"

"About a lot of things."

"But mostly Kenzie." He walks over, clapping me on the shoulder. "Join the club, brother. We're all fucked when it comes to her."

"She's leaving in nineteen days."

"Maybe. Maybe not." He grins. "Trent's working on something."

"What?"

"You'll see. But let's just say our boy's finally ready to fight for what he wants."

"And what he wants is Kenzie?"

"What we all want is Kenzie. The question is, what does Kenzie want?"

I think about this morning, about her saying she might miss this, about the way she looked at me like I was worth keeping too. About the desperation in her kiss, like she was trying to memorize the feeling .

"I think she wants to stay but doesn't know how."

"Then we show her how. We make it impossible for her to leave." Gavin starts walking toward the house. "Whatever it takes."

"That's kidnapping, Gavin."

"That's love, Asher. And if you can't tell the difference, you're not doing it right."

He's got a point. The line between love and insanity has always been thin. And when it comes to Kenzie Rhodes, I'm willing to cross it.

But as I follow him back to the house, I can't shake the feeling that love might not be enough. That nineteen days will pass in a blink, and she'll leave, and we'll all be left with nothing but memories and what-ifs.

The Johnsons taught me that sometimes love isn't enough to make someone stay.

But maybe, just maybe, this time is different. Maybe this time, the broken kid from foster care actually gets to keep something good.

Nineteen days to convince her to stay. Nineteen days to show her this is home. Nineteen days to prove that sometimes the best things in life are the ones you never planned for.

Game on.