Page 20 of Cowboy Dragon's Rose

Dante snorts.

Zeke grunts.

I blink between the three of them.

“Does he always stand like that?” I dip my head towards Zeke.

“Like what?” Dante asks innocently.

“Like he’s considering whether to carry my luggage or throw me over his shoulder and disappear me somewhere in the woods like one of those campy 1980s horror flicks?”

Avery snorts. “Yeah, actually, that’s pretty on brand for Zeke.”

“He is standing right there, ladies,” Dante gentle scolds us, but his eyes reflect the laughter he’s keeping bottled up inside.

And Zeke? Well, Zeke shifts his weight and says absolutely nothing, just keeps watching me like I’m a riddle he hasn’t decided whether to solve or set on fire.

“You’re right. Apologies, Zeke. I’m sure you’re not all serial killery at all. Uh, thanks for the ride,” I say, and wait for a response.

Still nothing.

Avery is grinning so wide now, I’m surprised her face doesn’t hurt. And as for Dante? Well, now he’s looking at Zeke like he knows something.

Something I very much don’t know.

But whatever it is, he doesn’t say a word.

“Come on, Casey,” Avery says, slipping an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll show you your room. You’ve got the best view on the property. And we’ve got dinner at six. Don’t worry, I already warned the guys to wear shirts.”

“Pity,” I mutter.

Behind me, I swear I hear Zeke choke.

Just a little.

With his attention momentarily diverted, I snag my suitcase and follow Avery down the hall.

The guest bedroom is sunlit and cozy, with faded floral curtains, a massive antique dresser, and a view of the back pasture that honestly makes me want to write poetry.

Or at least drink wine while pretending I write poetry.

I open my suitcase and start pulling out clothes, mumbling to myself like a lunatic as I try to sort them by practical ranch wear and emergency sexy options.

I wish I had way more of the second one. But, oh well.

I’d have to make do with cotton laced practicality.

Behind me, I can feel it.

That weird itch on the back of my neck.

The sense of being watched.

I turn.

Nothing.

But I swear I see a shadow shift just beyond the hallway.

---