Page 38 of Wrangled Love

Jensen: Do you have a Band-Aid? I just scraped my knee falling for you.

Briar: I have a Band-Aid, but it’s not enough to patch up your delivery.

Jensen: You wound me.

Briar: Your pickup lines started it.

I steal a look at him, his mouth twitching as he holds back a smile while typing a reply.

Jensen: How about this one…

Jensen: If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cutecumber.

I burst out laughing, an unladylike snort escaping my nose. “It’s official. You’ve entered your dad-joke era, and I fear all hope for redemption is lost.”

Jensen tucks his phone into his pocket and comes to take a seat next to me on the porch swing. “Hey, I got you to laugh. That’s a win in my book.”

“If that’s what you call winning, I’m afraid you’re more out of practice than you think.”

He smirks. “Guess I should thank you for tolerating my lack of humor, then. Maybe you should share what you thought was so funny on your phone when I came outside. Could be something I could learn from.”

He’s good, I’ll give him that—steering the conversation back to the question he wants answered.

“I was checking texts from my friends’ group chat. We mainly gossip and plot our next questionable decision,” I respond, staying light on the details.

“Like?” Jensen presses.

I bite my bottom lip, contemplating how much to tell him. It’s totally irrational, but a part of me still worries he’ll judge me or decide I shouldn’t watch Caleb after I admit that I committed poultry-related breaking and entering.

I face him, offering a look that’s all business. “Promise you won’t judge or call the sheriff?”

Jensen tilts his head, a playful smile curving at the corners of his mouth. “Now you have to tell me, or I’ll assume the worst, like you getting in a bar fight or cow tipping.”

I gasp in mock horror. “Birdie would never tolerate us messing with them. When Charlie suggested riding cows in high school, Birdie didn’t talk to her for a month. She’s all about protecting the animals at all costs.”

As a kid, she was devastated when she found out the Halsteads owned a cattle ranch, and it took her years to come to terms with the idea that my family’s ranch didn’t mean I couldn’t also support her and her passion for animal rights.

“If that’s true, what in the world could you have done that might warrant a visit from the sheriff?” It’s obvious Jensen’s more curious than concerned.

I shift in my seat, tucking my hair behind my ear as I look him in the eye. “Remember the night we had the plumbing issue, and I was out late?”

He nods slowly.

“Well… we sort of trespassed on old man Grady’s property to steal a chicken. We being me, Charlie, and Birdie,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

To be fair, for us, it was a typical Friday night adventure.

Jensen blinks twice, his lips parting in disbelief. “Youwhat?”

“He was getting rid of a chicken for being pecked on. So, we took matters into our own hands, snuck onto his property, and rescued her from being slaughtered. Had it not been for us, the poor thing would’ve ended up on Mr. Grady’s dinner table.” I exhale deeply when I finish, anxiously waiting for Jensen’s response.

I don’t have to wait long.

He throws his head back, laughing. “For a minute there, I thought you were about to confess to burying a body or robbing a bank. Does a chicken heist even constitute a real crime?”

I scoff, playfully swatting his arm. “Excuse me—poultry theft is serious business.”

Jensen presses his lips together, amusement shining in his eyes. “Oh, I have no doubt.”

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