Page 10 of Wicked Cowboy
“Must’ve been somefascinatingweather,” Luke says, deadpan. “Lasted a long time.”
Martha smacks his arm with a towel. “Leave them be.”
“I’m just curious,” Luke insists. “You’ve had more to say to her in a day than you’ve said to me all month.”
“That’s because you’re boring,” Rhett says. He takes another sip of coffee and doesn’t look at me. Which somehow makes looking at him impossible to stop doing.
Martha eyes me with a smile that’s half kind, half matchmaking mischief. “You’re lucky, Frankie. Not many folks get to see my oldest grandson before he’s had his second cup of coffee. That’s practically intimacy around here.”
“Grandma,” Rhett says warningly.
“What? I’m complimenting your manners.” She turns to me. “He was raised right, even if he hides it behind all that brooding.”
“I can tell,” I say, smiling into my mug. “He’s secretly a sweetheart.”
Rhett’s brow lifts. “Don’t start rumors like that.”
“Too late,” Luke says. “This is small-town Colorado. The chickens will know before lunch.”
I nearly snort my coffee. “Is that how gossip works here?”
“Pretty much,” Luke says. “Millie Mae’s Café has better coverage than TMZ.”
“Wonderful,” I say. “Can’t wait to go viral in the local feed.”
Martha gives me that twinkling look again. “If the rumor mill’s already spinning, might as well make the story worth telling.”
“Grandma,” Rhett growls.
“What? I’m retired. Matchmaking’s my new hobby.”
Luke raises his mug. “She’s terrifying, but efficient.”
Martha ignores him and slides me another pancake. “You stay as long as you need, dear. The roads are still slick, and Rhett’s going into town later anyway.”
“Thanks,” I say, glancing at him. “Guess I’m your accidental houseguest a little longer.”
He meets my eyes, calm but unreadable. “Guess so.”
There’s a spark there, subtle but alive. My heart catches it and refuses to let go.
After breakfast, Luke heads out to check fences, and Martha starts humming at the sink. Rhett stacks dishes beside her, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he works. I try not to stare. I fail.
When he straightens, I catch his eye. “You’re really not going to argue with your grandmother’s matchmaking campaign?”
He shrugs. “She doesn’t listen anyway.”
“So you’ll just let her pair you up with random tourists?”
“Depends on the tourist.”
The corners of my mouth curve. “That could be dangerous.”
“True,” he says, quiet but certain.
Martha clucks her tongue, pretending not to eavesdrop. “You two should get some fresh air. The sun’s out. Go see the damage the storm left.”
“Yeah,” Luke calls from the mudroom, poking his head back in. “Take her with you, Rhett. She’ll keep you from yelling at the horses.”