Page 33 of Stay With Me

Gross. My entire body breaks out in hives.

Lydia’s a cockroach who tried to trap her ex into having a baby he wasn’t ready for. Poking holes in the condoms and going off her birth control without telling him.

But then she cried to anyone who’d listen to her that he broke up with her for “no reason.”

“You remember what she did to Ashton, right?”

He shrugs. “Well, double wrap it for extra security.”

I scoff. “No, thanks. I’m not that desperate.”

“You can still be nice and dance with her. Just tell her hands above the belt at all times.” He smirks over his shoulder, and I want to smack that cocky look off his face.

“Why do I have to benice? I don’t even like her. You’re the one hot for her sister.”

“Exactly. Quinn won’t pay attention to me if she’s worried about Lydia. So ya gotta do this for me. Just keep her occupied so I can keep Quinn…occupied.”

He waggles his brows, and I nearly throw up in my mouth.

“Dude, c’mon. Don’t ask me that.”

“It’s mybirthday…” His taunting voice tells me he’s not going to quit until I agree to this ridiculous plan. But that doesn’t mean I have to stick to it. He’s turning twenty-seven, and if he can’t get women without a wingman, that’s on him.

“Whatever,” I grumble.

“Yes! I’ll owe ya one.”

“You always say that. I think you’re up to three hundred and twenty-two IOUs.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’re keepin’ count?”

“Educated guess. All the times I drive your drunk ass home. All the shifts I cover for you when you’re hungover. All the chicks I dodge in town askin’ why you ain’t callin’ ’em back.” I scowl at his proud grin. “Oh, by the way…not your fuckin’ secretary. Break up with them like a normal person.”

“Nothin’ to say. I’m never exclusive. It ain’t my fault they always want more than I can give. Guess it’s my natural wit and charm.”

I snort, then dig my heels into Franklin so he catches up to Landen, and we can stop shouting to hear each other. He’s my four-year-old Appaloosa, and I ride him everywhere on the ranch. He’s an easy, calm horse when he’s not next to Landen’s quarterhorse.

As soon as we’re side by side, Franklin releases a loud whine.

“You’re alright.” I pat his neck. “Settle down.”

“He’s such a finicky bitch.” Landen laughs.

“Sydney’s a tease,” I remind him. We’ve caught them many times trying to bite each other when we put them in the pasture to muck their stalls. No idea why, but they clearly have beef with each other.

“Don’t listen to him, baby,” Landen says in a sickly sweet voice. “You just don’t take shit from a man, right?”

Rolling my eyes at the irony, I give Franklin another kick so we can hurry this along. When we get up one of the hills, I go right, and Landen goes left so we can cover more area quicker.

We check the fences every quarter, usually around season changes or after we get hit with lots of rain or wind. The ground shifts and that affects the fence line.

By the time I meet back up with Landen, he’s grinning like a fool at his phone.

“Who’re you chattin’ with?” I ask.

“Just Mags.”

Jealousy slices through me at how close the two are. Talking about only God knows what.