Page 36 of Shades of Mercy
No doubt that statement targeted him.
While she busied herself with online shopping for the next fifteen minutes, he finished his bowl.
He glanced at his watch. It was getting late. He stood. “Done?”
“Yes.” She handed him back his cell phone.
He took their bowls to the sink. “Dishes can wait. Daylight is wasting. It’s time to introduce you to the crew.”
“Let me go grab my shoes,” she said over her shoulder as she headed to the bedroom.
He caught the generous sway of her hips and had a feeling she knew exactly how much power she had in those hips. The frayed hem of the shorts seemed to dance along her toned thighs. “Did Mateo think to grab you a pair of boots?” he called down the hall.
“He did,” her voice was muffled.
“I’ll meet you out front.” He stepped onto the porch and reached for his pack of cigarettes, only to find an empty pocket. He’d put it there on purpose. He could use a smoke right now, but instead, he pulled out a piece of gum from the other pocket and stuffed it into his mouth.
He leaned over the rail and breathed in fresh air. He realized Mercy wasn’t going to make this experience easy for him. She’d always been one to push the boundaries. If she was told not to do something, by golly, she had to do it to see what would happen. Mateo was the same way.
He’d cut her some slack, but there were rules she’d have to follow. He’d save that discussion for later, as he didn’t want to set the tone for the day when they were together.
She stepped outside, and he narrowed his gaze on the so-called boots. They were as helpful on a ranch as a broken pitchfork. “Those aren’t boots. I think I saw a country singer wear those very same ones.”
“It’s either these or flip-flops.”
“Those because you’ll be less likely to get bitten by a snake.”
She blinked. “Does that happen frequently?”
“No, because most are wise enough to wear long pants and real boots while working on the land. Here’s a piece of advice, always shake a bale of hay before touching it. Also, keep an eye on anything that moves.”
“That sounds simple enough.” She rolled her eyes.
“Can we go now?” Moments like this, he craved nicotine.
“Ready,” she said.
He might argue that point, but it would be useless. “Remember, we’re cousins and you’re the new cook,” he reminded her as they walked onto the path leading to the arena.
“Good thing you reminded me. That’s tough information to retain.”
He halted and turned around. His patience had nearly reached its limit again. “Think you could tone down the sarcasm? We’re cousins. We care about each other.”
“Okay. I’ll try my best.”
He resumed walking, and as Jag and Mercy turned the corner, he saw that the men were gathered around the fence, watching Arrow train a horse. He was teaching the mare the fundamentals to prepare her for cattle work. The men shifted their focus to Mercy as they approached the fence.
Jag instantly noticed the admiration on a few of the men's faces as they looked her up and down. Naturally, they would find her attractive. She was beautiful and confident. However, what Jag didn’t understand was why he was jealous. He knew he had no feasible reason to feel that way. He couldn’t remember ever feeling green-eyed in his life.
Something about Mercy tied him in knots.
Each man stepped forward as Jag introduced them. A few were shy, while others offered her genuine smiles. When it came to Bones, he kissed the back of her hand and stared into her eyes, like a true charmer. Mercy’s cheeks turned pink. Jag had a deep-seated need to throat-punch his friend.
Jag, relax.
“Why have you been keeping her a secret?” Bones asked.
Before Jag could answer, Mercy jumped in. “My cousin and I just recently started talking again. He’s been quite elusive over the last few years.”
