8. Woody

8

WOODY

I adjusted my binoculars, then clicked at Bandit so he’d stop circling in and around Shadow’s legs. Being part Jack Russel and part cattle dog meant he was too intelligent and active to be a lap dog—though he did manage to do that part-time. Instead, I gave him a job, helping me to round up the animals for food and vet visits.

I’d been worried about teaching him commands since I’d never done anything like that before, but he picked them up quickly and loved running alongside Shadow as we did our day-to-day chores.

I’d never admit this to anyone, but I was grateful he’d come to me when he did. I hated that he lost his leg, of course, but he’d gotten used to it sooner than I would’ve. It felt like there was a lesson about adapting instead of fighting reality, but I was too stubborn to learn it.

Thankfully, I wasn’t always so stubborn. I ran my tongue over my new crown, grateful that Emery had been right—the appointment hadn’t hurt one bit. I’d even set an appointment for a regular cleaning, and I swear Doug almost cried.

I didn’t let Em buy me ice cream, though. I was still ambivalent about the moment we shared. Not regretful, exactly, but I wasn’t comfortable that he knew I still had lingering bullshit from childhood.

“You’d think I’d have been used to it with how my dad treated me, but no.”

I shuddered every time I thought about that part of the conversation. I’d shared too much and could tell he wanted to hug me. He refrained, thank God, but sometimes I wonder what it would have felt like to let him.

Shaking off the unease, I brought the lenses back up to my face, then jumped. Rowdy was staring in my direction, right at me.

I was a couple of football fields away, under dense cover, so I was confident it was a coincidence. I pulled back farther into the shadows, just to be on the safe side. Right as I brought the binoculars back up to my eyes, my phone buzzed.

Rowdy: I see you.

Me: No you don’t.

Rowdy: If you’re gonna spy on me, at least spring for the nonreflective binoculars, you weirdo.

Me: Shut up.

I was still not on board with Rowdy working for—and living with, for fuck’s sake—Emery.

Just this morning, Rowdy was outside, bright and early, revamping the outdoor living space between the house and the barn. He started by taking out the old, burnt-out firepit with a massive sledgehammer. He was having the time of his life, sending bricks flying with each wild swing.

Me: Stop horsing around

Me: And wear your damned safety glasses FFS

Rowdy set down the sledgehammer, checked his phone, and laughed, sending me a one-fingered salute before tapping out something on his screen. I waited for the buzz, but nothing came through. Two minutes later, Emery, wearing only loose-fitting pajama bottoms and flip-flops, jogged down the steps and handed him—I adjusted the sharpness—yep, those were safety goggles.

I cursed under my breath. Rowdy pointed me out and Emery turned, waving at me with a big, shit-eating grin on his face. Worse, Rowdy stood behind Emery and blatantly checked out his ass, smiling innocently when Emery turned around.

Emery then said something that made Rowdy tip his head back in laughter before he patted Emery’s furry, bare chest. The way they grinned at each other...Dammit.

They were definitely fucking.

Not that it was my business, but Rowdy was more sensitive than he let on. Someone like Emery had all the money, all the power, and all the cards. Rowdy was bound to get hurt.

I was definitely gonna hafta say something about that.

Thankfully, Rowdy listened to my advice and took down the rest of the firepit in a more orderly manner, then hauled away the bricks along with the old pavers that surrounded the pit. At that point, Emery came out with steaming mugs of coffee and— let me zoom in just a little —breakfast tacos?

He was bringing Rowdy breakfast tacos? Cheese and rice, this was worse than I thought. At least Emery had managed to find a goddamned shirt.

After their coffee, they started working together on the project and I had to go find something else to do. This had disaster written all over it.

“I’m starting to wonder if I have a stalker,” Emery said, grinning as he sat comfortable-as-you-please on my fucking bar stool.

I shot Lou a glare. She shrugged as she refilled Emery’s beer with a dreamy look in her eyes.

The only remaining barstool was next to this son of a bitch cousin-thief, so I took it and muttered, “I’m not stalking you. This is my bar.”

Emery toasted me with a wink. “What a coincidence. Looks like it’s my bar, too.”

Ah, fucking hell.

“Please tell me you didn’t buy the place.”

“No, I meant?—”

“Thank God,” I said, accepting my usual from Lou. I downed half the pint in one go.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Emery said, grinning through a drink.

I appreciated that he didn’t let things get weird between us. Before I could continue the banter, though, a wet-behind-the-ears tadpole from one of the surrounding colleges made his way over to the bar, knifing between me and Emery to ask for a beer.

Lou, seeing my face, grabbed it from her fridge and processed his card in record time. That was still enough time for this frat asshole to bite his lip and give Emery the once-over.

“You ever let anyone call you Daddy?” he asked, putting his fucking hand on Emery’s arm.

I visualized breaking every last one of his fingers as Emery responded, “Only my daughter.”

The guy pouted, then sent Emery a wink before moving off.

“Seriously?” I asked, gesturing at myself. That college asshole hadn’t even acknowledged my existence.

“Jealous?”

“No, I just didn’t need his ass all in my business,” I groused, then remembered something I had meant to bring up earlier. “Also, you’d do well to remember that this is a close-knit community, and you should be more careful about putting your junk out on the apps.”

Emery started to take a sip of beer, then paused midway. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Just ’cause we’re country doesn’t mean we don’t get the hookup apps. And leaving your head out of the pictures only works if you cover up that goddamned birthmark on your neck.”

Emery closed one eye, looking at me like I was insane. After a moment, though, recognition widened his eyes. “ Wait . You recognized me on an app ? Out here ?”

“Saw a little more of you than I was expecting, to be honest,” I grumbled.

Emery shook his head. “I didn’t realize it’d updated my location.”

“Oh, it definitely had.”

Closing his eyes, he ran a calloused hand through his perfect hair, gripping it tight enough to make me wonder if that’s how he liked it. Rough, dominant, size difference... After a few seconds, though, he nailed me with a raised brow.

“What?”

“Why are you bitching about me being on the app when you have to be on the app to recognize me?”

“Rowdy’s the one who pointed it out to me,” I said, protesting a little too hard for someone who had definitely tugged one out this morning to the screen grab I’d definitely be deleting off my phone at some point in the near future. Probably. “We didn’t know you were gay before that.”

“So, wait. You saw this before I took you to the dentist?”

“Maybe.”

“Got it.” Laughing softly to himself, he said, “At least I didn’t need an app to tell me you were gay. I knew that the second you rode up in a Golden Girls T-shirt.”

“Stereotype, much?” I asked, not the least bit offended. That Golden Girls tee got me a lot of action when I was sleeping around.

Emery closed his eyes, the veins in his arms popping as he squeezed his hands into fists. “I can’t believe you’ve seen my junk.”

Lou paused in front of us, and it was obvious from her grimace that she’d heard more than she should’ve. “Uh...either of you want another one?”

“Yes,” I muttered, then waited as she refilled my pint and hustled off to another customer.

Taking a sip, I said, “Now that you and my cousin are shacking up together, you should know that he pretty much shares everything with me.”

Emery shook his head, then took a long pull of beer. “If he actually shared everything with you, you’d know we aren’t shacking up. He’s staying in my guest room on a different floor on the opposite side of my house.”

Before I could reply, he continued, “And if we were fucking, what business would that be of yours?”

Lou, who’d appeared out of nowhere, sighed. “Fellas, you do know the ice machine is right here, right? I ain’t trying to listen in on your business, but I hafta do my job.”

Emery held up a hand. “Sorry, Lou. This one’s had his head up his ass ever since I moved in, and I’m fucking tired of it.”

She waved away his apology. “Don’t take it personally. You moved into Shane’s place and it’s probably got him feelin’ some kind of way.”

“Who’s Shane?” Emery asked, leaning forward.

“Don’t matter who Shane is,” I said, cutting off Lou before she could go telling my business to the world. “And besides, my head is right where it needs to be.”

Emery let out a sigh, then pulled his phone out of his pocket. After a few efficient taps, he stopped, turning red as he furiously punched the screen. Returning his phone to his pocket, he nailed me with a glare.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You just made a whole lot of assumptions about me, and you don’t know me at all. Yes, that was my account, but I did not realize it was active, and I can assure you that I know the difference between hooking up in a place like Austin or Dallas and hooking up out here. Not that I owe you any explanation, but I had no intentions of using that app out here.”

“So, you’ll just use it when you go back to visit Austin, huh?”

Emery’s expression shifted from embarrassed to self-satisfied. He wiped his mouth, failing to hide the smile that lit up his amber eyes.

Shit. This conversation was about to go off the rails.