“Tell me about it.” She shows me her arm.
“TheCowherd Whiskey Saloon & Chapelcomplete with an actual image of a cow.” I chuckle. “How did Gwen decide on that design?”
“I’m sure my mother talked to Gwen and asked her to include it on the list of options.”
“These ridiculous tattoos are my limit. I’m calling it. No more tents for us,” I say firmly, leading her away from the town lawn. “Let’s go get cupcakes.”
We leave the grassy area and head across the street to the row of limestone buildings along Main Street. We pass the library and the inn and head into the bakery. After we order a cupcake each, Macey turns and puts her hand on my arm.
“Thank you,” she says simply.
I know what she means, but I play dumb. Because I love it when she’s happy, and I want to see her smile a little longer. “For what?”
She squeezes my bicep, and my dick hardens. “For this. For today.” She leans her head on my shoulder.
I soak in the moment, knowing it will be over long before I’m ready.
“You’re welcome, Mace. You deserve more of these days, you know.”
“Maybe someday,” she says.
“Hey!” I turn at the familiar voice.
Blake and his current “girlfriend”—and I use that term loosely because Blake doesn’t date anyone for more than a month or two—stroll through the screen door of the bakery.
“What are y’all up to?” he asks.
“Getting a snack.” Macey smiles at his girlfriend. “Hi, Raquel. Nice to see you again.”
Blake kisses Raquel’s cheek. “What do you want, baby? A chocolate cupcake okay?”
The redhead glares at him. “I’m allergic to chocolate.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”
She frowns. “I’ve told you that every time we’ve been out, Blake. It’s like you don’t pay attention to a word I say.”
Awkward silence hits our group. Until Macey—God bless her—says in her sweet Texas drawl to Raquel, “Boys. If they don’t have an instruction manual taped to their body, they don’t remember anything.”
She’s being a good friend as usual and trying to help Blake off the massive-ass hook he set up for himself to hang by.
Raquel laughs, and the tension ebbs.
But as the four of us walk out of the bakery a while later, I pull Blake aside. He and I aren’t just cousins—we grew up together, and our friendship is for life. His father and mine are brothers and have been simultaneously at each other’s throats and there for each other in ways I don’t think we even know of.
The official family ranch names are Wild Ranch and Wild Ivy Ranch after Blake’s mama, but that’s just for legal reasons and tax purposes. Blake and I have always looked at our family businesses as exactly the same, and neither of us is keen on continuing our daddy’s legacy of full-time cowboy life.
Blake’s more of a brother to me than my own are. Doesn’t mean I love everything he does, like the way he dates.
“If you’re not feeling it with Raquel, dude, cut her loose,” I tell him. “Don’t string her along for another week or a month—whatever it is that you do.”
He grins at me, the kind of wicked smile only Blake can pull off. Devilish and well-meaning at the same fucking time.
“You’re one to talk, cowboy.”
