Page 42 of Wrangled

And why am I flirting with this guy?

Robert

I cleared my throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go talk to Teague.”

Like hell I did. I just needed an excuse to get out of there. Toby was a particular kind of trouble, spelled H-O-T.

“Well, think about it.” Toby’s eyes met mine. “And I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

I strolled out of the stables, aware of heat rising inside me. Paul was in the paddock with Garrett and Lucy. Teague was watching from the fence, his arms resting on it.

I wandered over to him. “So… how bad was it? The fences, I mean.” Anything to get my mind off the sexy-as-fuck dude who was grooming my horse.

“There was a gap, sure enough—God knows how that happened—but only six or seven cows had gotten through it. We got ’em back and Walt patched it up.”

I nodded towards Garrett. “How’s he doing?” He was standing at Lucy’s head, stroking her neck.

“Paul got him to feed her. Nothing like a little food to create a bond, right? I reckon we’ll have Lucy eating out of his hand by the end of the day.”

I loved Teague’s confidence. “Is Paul okay to work with Garrett for as long as it takes?”

He nodded. “And when Zeeb takes Declan and Toby out on the trail, I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things. I think Butch is gonna lend a hand too. You know, for moral support. If we can get Garrett relaxed enough to get on the horse, that’d be a bonus.”

“I wonder what the deal is with him,” I mused. Not that I had any intention of finding out.

Don’t get involved. Don’t offer advice.

“No clue. Declan seems to think he just needs a little breathing space.”

“Hell, we all need that, now and then.” When the thought slipped into my mind, I jumped on it. “In that case, I might go riding with Zeeb and the other guests.” I kept my tone nonchalant.

Teague arched his eyebrows. “Yeah, I cantotallysee how riding out with them is you being more hands-on with Garrett.”

“Hey,” I remonstrated. “There’ll be you, Butch, and Paul here. Don’t you think if I stuck around too, that would smack of overkill? Besides I’d just be in the way.”

Yeah, that sounded plausible. Logical.

Teague grinned. “Sure, boss. Whatever you say.”

He sees right through me, doesn’t he?

I wasn’t sure if I found the thought irritating—or comforting.

Toby

“No one wants this last piece of chicken, right?” I said as I grabbed it from the basket in the center of the table.

Butch snorted. “If anyone does, it looks as if they’re shit out of luck.”

“Hey, I’ve been working all morning, remember?” I retorted.

“He’s got a point,” Paul admitted.

I beamed. “Then I claim the right to the last piece.” Matt made the best fried chicken I’d ever tasted. The man was a national treasure.

I listened as Declan and Walt discussed the pros and cons of barbed wire fences as opposed to log fences. Teague and Zeeb were on their phones, and Paul was flicking through a horse magazine.

Butch was watching me, however.

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