Page 92 of Take Me Away, Cowboy

“Neither, I’m afraid. I just wanted something to soften the fact that I haven’t decorated for crap since I moved in.”

“You have men coming over for dinner, yes?”

“Yep. The guys who helped me with Alan’s barn. Figured they’ve earned some grilled meat and booze for their efforts.”

“And flowers?”

He chuckled.

“And flowers. What kinda man doesn’t appreciate a good bouquet of wildflowers? I don’t think I want to know that guy.”

It was her turn to laugh this time, a light song that only reminded him of her roommate. He fought the urge to ask about Paige, determined not to care. Or at least not show that he did. Still, her name hung between them.

“So, what are you up to tonight? Any big plans in Banberry?”

“You tease, but this town is so sweet, so simple. I quite like it. Besides, the men who like flowers aren’t so bad to look at, either. You make sure to bring them outside on the porch so I can ogle them later, okay? I’m alone and bored tonight and think Brad is—how do you say it?Fine?”

Owen’s belly shook with laughter. He didn’t miss Aury’s subtle hint that Paige wouldn’t be home that evening. Where would she be, then? God, please let her not be on a date, or at least not one he’d hear about through the mountain telegraph that was Cowboy Joe’s on a weekend.

He wasn’t sure he could handle that yet.

“Fine is a good word. Just watch out for his girlfriend. She’s got claws.” He made his hands into claws and hissed. She erupted in giggles and swatted at him.

“Yes, this I’ve heard. Well, happy shopping, Owen. Enjoy your dinner.”

“Hey,” he called after her, “can I drop by the pie plate later?”

“Of course, Owen. You are welcome anytime, you know this. We’re friends, right?” Aury was a friend he could easily shed his protective layers and talk to, but they both knew why he wouldn’t take Aury up on that. It was the same reason it was “the” pie plate, not “Paige’s pie plate.” He couldn’t even say her name for crying out loud.

“We are. Thanks, Aury.”

He put the flowers in his cart and doubled down when he got to the beer aisle. No doubt there would be the need for more than a few tonight between his and Brad’s problems that arose regarding the fairer sex.

He paid and headed back to the farm to prep the ribs. If they didn’t fall off the bone, what was the point?

He unloaded an array of spices he’d learned to always have on hand for deployments when the meat was more than a little suspect. Turned out the blend was hell on ribs, too. He rubbed it in, careful not to knead the meat too much, then covered it with root beer—his secret weapon—and put them on the bottom shelf of the same fridge.

He was about to throw on some music, get an early start on the beer portion of the evening, when his eyes fell on the damn pie tin sitting by his front door.

Dammit.

He seized it with prejudice and stormed out the door, determined to get rid of it once and for all. Owen rang the bell at Paige and Aury’s apartment and smiled as the chime trilled like a songbird. He’d done okay in replacing both shitty bells that had preceded this one. Of course, he admittedly liked the second one more, assumed the ladies did as well.

He heard the clacking of heels on wood as Aury made her way down the stairs and chuckled. That was one of many glaring differences between Paige and her friend. Aurelie never seemed to be without a layer of makeup more suitable for going dancing at night, the shoes to match, while Paige had simpler tastes that matched his own.

Still, he could see why Paige said her friend was popular with the Don Juans. She was stunning in a Hollywood jaw-dropping kind of way that most any guy would find attractive.

Just not him. His body only reacted to what his heart had laid claim to—Paige.

Aury opened the door dressed to kill in tight black jeans, long black, straight hair over her right shoulder, a gold lace top over a black barely there tank. It came as no surprise to him that she had on matching gold pumps. He’d thought for sure she’d give up the heels as soon as she saw how impractical they’d be in Banberry—especially if she was staying with Paige at the farm. But, nope. Sure, she’d used some flats to help out around the place, but she’d clung tight to her fashion sense no matter the terrain or gossip that got in her way.

Good for her. This town wouldn’t take her prisoner.

“Owen! Come in, come in,” she said, gesturing him up the stairs he’d been up more times than he could count. Until the last couple weeks, anyway. He walked up and froze when he got to the top. It was all different. From floor to ceiling, the apartment looked simultaneously lived in and as if someone had it staged for a home and garden magazine shoot.

“You like it?” she asked him.

He was stunned silent for a beat, but recovered.

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