Page 29 of The Cowboy Complication

“I don’t blame him.” Isla smoothed back her dark hair. “It’s freaking hot in there.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not why he really came out here.” He glared at the door, half considering going inside to make sure the prick knew to stay the fuck away from Isla. From any woman for that matter. Following a lone woman out of a bar into the night because you want to get her by herself was fucking predator behavior.

When he turned back to Isla, she was staring up at him, her brows pinched together in confusion. “Why do you think he was out here?”

Cooper snorted, positive she couldn’t be that oblivious. “He was following you.”

Isla huffed out a little laugh. “No. I can promise you he wasn’t following me.” She sighed, her eyes dropping to the sidewalk under their feet. “I’m pretty sure he hadn’t even noticed me until just a second ago.”

Cooper stared at her a second, thinking she was giving him shit, but the way she was acting was off.

Almost embarrassed.

“Is that what you really think?” He was trying to wrap his head around the possibility. That the beautiful, funny, sweet, smart woman he knew didn’t have a clue how fucking desirable she was.

Any man in his right mind would cut off an arm for a chance with her.

When Isla’s eyes finally came back to his they were filled with shame. She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Men love women who are sexy and successful and know how to flirt and have cleavage and wax all their hair off.” She gave him a sad smile. “That’s not me. None of it is.”

Cooper blinked as all the thoughts and arguments he had lined up fell like dew on a cool night.

Because all he could focus on was the newfound knowledge that parts of Isla—areas he worked hard to ignore—weren’t bare. Honestly, he didn’t care either way. It was the knowing that was the issue. His brain grabbed hold of the intimate tidbit of information and held on with a white-knuckled grip, refusing to entertain anything else.

“And that’s fine.” Isla took a deep breath. “It is what it is and it doesn’t matter anyway.” She shrunk back a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

“No.” His need to reassure her snapped his thoughts back where they belonged. “You can dump on me whenever you want.”

She lifted her brows.

“That came out wrong.” Maybe his thoughts weren’t as back as he believed. “I’m not into scat.”

Isla tipped her head, brows lifting even higher. “Is that what it’s called when someone likes poop for sex reasons?”

Cooper scrubbed a hand over his face, rubbing at his head as it started to throb. “It is.”

He’d fucked this whole conversation all the way up. Instead of telling Isla how perfect she was, and that any man would be lucky to talk to her, let alone be with her, he was explaining one of the edgier kinks.

Isla’s lips pressed together. “And how do you know about this?”

For a second he started to panic, worrying she genuinely thought he liked when women shit on him. Then he saw the sparkle in her eyes. The tiny pinch of her lower lip between her teeth.

“Ha, ha.” He reached out to pull the sides of her coat together. “Very funny.”

She smiled up at him. “I don’t know. It doesn’t sound very funny. It sounds messy.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “And super unhygienic.”

“You know?—”

A rush of people clamoring out the door cut him off.

“Time to go. The Mexican food is hitting.” Betty was at the front of the pack, arms flailing as she led the group he and Isla were in charge of down the sidewalk toward where Gertrude’s Jeep was parked.

Shit. “She puked already?” Leland was supposed to cut Muriel off.

But Muriel looked relatively fine as she rushed past. Maybe walking a little funny, but not green around the gills.

Now that he was really looking, most of the group seemed to be moving a little… Urgently.

Gertrude brought up the rear, leaning against her own cane more than normal since she was in a hurry. She grabbed Isla with one hand, expression panicked as she looked his way. “Not puke. Other end.”

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