Page 18 of A Sunny Sweetheart for the Cowboy

She tightened her grip on the handle. “You were having a nap and waiting for your bucket to boil.”

“I’m done napping, and the coffee will keep.” He stared at her and removed the shovel from her suddenly weak grasp.

“Fine.” She backed away. “I thought this was a good spot and we could bring boards and attach them to those trees and?—”

“You’re babbling.” He glanced at the hummus she’d messed up in her abortive attempt to dig, shrugged, and jammed the vee deep into the dirt.

It took him fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, and there was a decent-sized hole with a narrow log across it. “That’ll do.” He looked at her. “Didn’t you have anything better to do than stare at me while I worked?”

Paisley shook her head. “Nope. Nothing.”

“Get a life,” he muttered as he unlocked the handle, folded the shovel, and strode toward Ranger.

“I like the one I’ve got,” she called after him.

His step hesitated, but he continued on without turning back.

It was kind of a lie. She liked the possibilities in her life far more than the actual facts. But today had proved he wasn’t completely immune. He’d even cracked a smile once or twice.

Weston stowed the shovel and turned back to the fire, where the water in the bucket was bubbling merrily. Shielding his palm with the sleeve of his denim jacket, he lifted the bucket away and set it on the ground before measuring coffee grounds into it and giving it a swirl with a stick.

“That’s it?” Somehow, she’d crept closer until she was next to him, breathing in his woodsy scent mingling with the stink of coffee.

“Yeah? Want some?”

She kept her nose from wrinkling. “I prefer tea.”

“You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted cowboy coffee.”

Maybe she hadn’t lived until she’d tasted cowboy lips. But coffee made by Weston’s hands and offered by his own voice? She’d have to give it a try… another time.

Chapter

Six

Whoever would have guessed the hours would fly by the way they had? Not Weston. He took any excuse to get away by himself on Ranger, of course. And, yeah, he’d been annoyed when Paisley bulldozed her way into his private excursion, but she’d been okay company.

Now she and Enchantment stepped up the pace in front of him as they reconnected with the regular trail system close to the stables, like she couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

Weston urged Ranger up beside Enchantment, and Paisley glanced his way without a word. “What, cat got your tongue?”

“I thought you appreciated quiet.”

“I do.” Wow, that was awkward. Was he supposed to say more? Someone had to fill the silence, right? How had that fallen on him?

She arched a brow as she looked over. “You couldn’t possibly admit we had a nice time, could you? That you might have enjoyed my company?”

“Uh…” Would it kill him? But it seemed a momentous question. Admitting anything of that nature meant opening the door, and he didn’t want that. Right, because he didn’t want to be happy. Didn’t want to be cared for. Didn’t want to think of anyone but himself.

She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Would it be the end of the world for you to admit you liked the cowboy coffee?” Sheesh, was that the best he could do? Volley it back at her?

“I’d be lying.”

It was on the tip of Weston’s tongue to say that went for her question, too, if he agreed. But just as he didn’t want her to lie, he didn’t want to do it, either. “Yeah, thanks. It was a good day.”

Paisley cupped her hand behind her ear and leaned toward him, still staring down the trail. “Pardon me? I couldn’t quite hear you, cowboy.”

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