Page 2 of Catching the Cowgirl

“Fuck,” my brother barks, rushing into the house. I bite back a laugh. I’m sure Paisley is fine, but I’ve never seen someone as clumsy as her. It’s part of her charm.

My dad and mom follow my brother Jackson inside. I start to do the same thing until I hear a car coming down the gravel road. I watch as the fancy Mercedes SUV pulls down the long driveway. The thing looks like it should be in a James Bond movie. It’s fitting because when it comes to a stop, out steps a man in a suit. Though he doesn’t get out of the driver's seat; he gets out of the back. The driver does not open the door for him. This time.

Who needs a freaking driver? This isn't a bustling city. I let my annoyance with Luka Woods show on my face, enjoying that the gravel dust is dirtying up his fancy shoes. I’m sure he hates that. He was raised on concrete. This might as well be the wilderness for him.

In the short time I’ve gotten to know Luka, I put together that the man is uptight. I'm not sure why he's stuck around Cottonwood. He doesn’t belong. He sticks out like a sore thumb around here. In truth, I think he just wants to get on my damn nerves for some reason. He’s been doing it since the second I met him. It’s probably some sort of game to him at this point.

“Afternoon, kitten.”

I glare at him. He keeps calling me that. I hate it but also kinda like it. I’ll deny ever thinking that.

"Afternoon, Patrick Bateman.” I toss back.

“Who?” His brows pull together, and I can tell I’ve irritated him. Good, that was the point. A little taste of his own damn medicine.

“Do you watch TV at all?”

“No.” Of course not. Probably thinks he’s too important to do something as silly as watching TV.

Paisley said he’s a tech-computer guy. Jackson mentioned that he is well-known. I knew he had to do something big. When I first met him, he was dragging Paisley and me off to his private plane, which had landed at an Army base not far from Cottonwood. We never managed to board it. My brother shut that shit down. He wasn’t letting anyone take Paisley anywhere.

Still, I’d never heard of Luka Woods or his company, Luka Technology. Then again, I haven’t opened my laptop, which is about five years old, in months. At the moment, I'm not even sure where it is. Probably shoved under my bed with a lot of other things.

“Movie is American Psycho. You should check it out.”

“Are you going to watch it with me?” His expression doesn’t change. I can’t tell if he’s putting me on or if he's serious. I would guess he’s being serious, except he keeps calling me kitten. That doesn't seem to fit his personality or normal stick up the ass behavior.

“Where are you even staying?” There is no way he is staying at the one and only motel in this town. He’d probably rather sleep in that fancy car of his than step foot in there.

Paisley might have stayed there when she came to Cottonwood, but I can’t see pretty boy here doing the same. If not for the way Paisley dresses, you’d never guess she was New York royalty. Their family name isn't rich; it's freaking wealthy.

“Are you worried about me?” He makes his way up the stairs to the porch. I want to step back, but I don’t. It's a bad idea for him to be too close. My body feels all sorts of things when he gets in my space. Things that I don’t want it to.

“No.” My breath hitches when Luka raises his hand toward me. I should smack it, but I don’t move an inch. He removes a piece of hay from my hair. Heat rushes to my cheeks. I don’t know why. I shouldn’t care if I look like hell. I’ve spent all morning tending to the horses.

“June bug, go wash up. You’re burning daylight.” Mom pushes open the screen door. “Oh, you’re here.” She gives Luka a bright smile. “I’m Abigail Graysen. Jackson’s mom.”

“Luka Woods.” Luka holds his hand out to her. Mom ignores it, going in for a hug. Luka goes stiff and kind of pats my mom on the back.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Mom steps back.

I’m sure she didn’t miss him tensing up when she hugged him. Based on what Paisley has shared with me about her family, I believe she didn't receive too many hugs. In fact, the first time I told Paisley I loved her, she almost cried. It made me grateful that my own family was always quick to tell each other that we loved one another. I didn’t go a day without hearing it from someone.

“June here has told us so much about you.”

“Mom!” I shout. “I did not.”

“That so?” Luka smirks. His face is actually showing some kind of emotion other than a stern glare.

“I’m going to change,” I say before I escape inside and up to my bedroom. When I catch sight of myself in the mirror, I inwardly groan. I really am a hot mess. My jeans are covered in dirt. There is even a smudge of something on my cheek.

Again, why the hell do I care? There can be only one explanation. Luka Woods.

2

LUKA

My eyes flick over to the stairs once more. When is she going to come back down? My little kitten took off on me. One second she’s fierce and feisty, the next she is avoiding me and making as much space between the two of us as she can.

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