Page 2 of Cowhand Crush

“I’m not asking him to let it go, Bowen. I’m asking him to let me carry my fair share of the load. I’m turning twenty-six in August.”

“And you will always be his little girl. He’s protective of you for a reason.”

Avery gave a heavy sigh. My gaze swept over her figure. For twenty years, I watched her grow up. Butting heads with her father, over and over. Dating scrawny teenage boys who broke her heart, and left her sobbing in the privacy of the hayloft.

Grady had always been crystal clear when he doled out warnings to his ranch hands.

If you even look at my daughter the wrong way, it will be the last thing you ever do.

I swallowed down a bite of cake and dropped my gaze to the dusty barn floor. If Grady knew what kind of thoughts I harbored toward his daughter—sixteen years younger than me—he would strangle me with his bare hands. And I wouldn’t blame him for it. He trusted me—with his ranch, his cattle, his livelihood. That included his daughter’s safety and well-being.

In return, I lived and breathed this place. I didn’t have a family of my own, didn’t have a wife or kids. At one time, fresh out of high school, I almost got married. Until her folks found out and stopped her from marrying a dirt-poor cowhand. I tried to drown myself in the bottom of a liquor bottle after that, until Grady found me and put me to work.

Avery flicked her gaze in my direction, watching me through her lashes.

My stomach somersaulted. Goddamn it. I wasn’t supposed to have fucking feelings for this woman who was completely off limits. As her father’s foreman, I had nothing to offer Avery. It was best that I stayed out of her way and focused on the job I was paid to do. She would take over the multi-million-dollar business one day, while I was going nowhere.

That didn’t stop her from getting a crush on me the size of Texas. Even though I was simply a hired hand for hard labor, I liked to think I had developed some observational skills over the years. And I’d noticed the way Avery looked at me with lingering glances, finding every excuse to hang around me like a fly drawn to honey.

When she was fourteen or fifteen years old, I chalked it up to infatuation. But I couldn’t write her off as a boy crazy teenager anymore. A dangerous attraction simmered between us, and I needed to do everything in my power to tamp down that heat before it became a wildfire.

“Honestly,” Avery said. “I think Dad is relieved I didn’t bring a husband back from California with me.”

I breathed a faint laugh as I finished off the cake and set it aside.

“We’re all a little surprised about that.”

She shrugged, plucking bits of straw off her jeans.

“College boys didn’t interest me. I dated around, sure, but nothing serious. I prefer my men to be more…rugged. Masculine.”

A heavy pause lingered in the air as Avery’s gaze met mine. Looking into those soft, dark brown eyes with a ring of golden honey around the iris…put my mettle to the test every time. I crossed my arms, biting my tongue in the hopes that the pinch of pain would quell the burn in my blood for this woman.

It wasn’t working.

“If I recall correctly,” I said. “Your daddy hasn’t approved of any men you’ve brought home yet.”

Avery made a noise of frustration.

“Yeah, well, that has to change eventually. I want to get married and have kids one day. He can’t be overprotective forever.”

My heart squeezed at that thought. I swallowed around the lump in my throat and picked up my tools to continue working.

“Don’t underestimate Grady McCall’s stubbornness. You should know that by now.”

Avery hopped off the straw bales and dusted her hands on her jeans.

“It’s a good thing I’m just as hard-headed as he is then.”

“No offense, but my money is on your father winning this battle,” I replied.

She slotted her hands in her back pockets.

“Of course you’d say that. You work for him. But mark my words, I’ll get the man I want someday. And there won’t be a damn thing my father can do about it.”

I glanced up. Avery grinned, backing away toward the barn door. The afternoon light cast a golden halo around her head, silhouetting her figure in gold.

Heaven help the man who managed to marry her. He would have his hands full, but he would be one hell of a lucky bastard.

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