“It’s too expensive,” she says, tugging it off for the sixth time.
“No, it’s not.”
“Lawson,” she sighs my name in exasperation. I’m not going to lie, I kind of like the way it sounds.
I take it from her hands, plop it right back on her head, and angle it just right so the brim frames her eyes. “Looks perfect. Get it.” She gives me that look,again, so before she can argue,again,I add, “If you’re going to be working on the ranch through the winter, you’re going to need that just as much as you need everything else you’re getting, so please. Just let me get this one thing for you, Honey. Please?”
She gives me a warm, half-annoyed, half-flustered smile before nodding and looking back into the mirror. I have to admit. She looks really fucking good. But then again, she’s looked good in everything she’s tried on today.
Boots. A winter coat. Overalls. Henleys. A flannel that I definitely stared at longer than necessary when she buttoned it up. And every single time she stepped out from her dressing room, her face lit up like she was discovering a brand new version of herself.
And hell, if that doesn’t do something to me.
It has in every store we’ve gone into. Even as we walked through the beauty store where she grabbed more hair supplies, skincare, a little bit of makeup, and more basics she didn’t have or that I didn’t get her before she arrived. I pretend I’m bored, but I’m not. I’m watching her. I’m watching the smile she gets when she picks things out. The way she looks more grounded with each bag she carries. It feels like I’m watching her slowly rebuild a life she deserves to have.
And I like being part of it way more than I should.
Our last stop of the day before we leave Billings, because hell if Roundup was going to have a single useful store she needed, is the grocery store. She heads for the snack aisle after picking out things to cook herself some meals and her favorite drinks, while I duck a couple of aisles over to grab some things I know I’ll need for dinner.
As I toss the pasta and tomatoes into the cart, I’m hit with the overwhelming thought that, despite it throwing my entire schedule out of wack, I actually really enjoyed today.
I rarely thought about work as I watched her try on sweaters and boots, or as I listened to her hum along with the music playing in the stores over the door to her dressing room, or as I—despite trying over and over again not to—caught myself staring at her every chance I got.
She looked beautiful.
Fuck,she always looks beautiful. It comes effortlessly to her. It’s as natural for her as breathing. But today… today she lookedalive.
And when she pulled a sweater over her head outside the dressing room and I caught a flash of blank ink on the back of her arm—christ. Curves, toned muscles, soft lines, all wrapped into one tiny, powerful woman.
She’s strong.
She’s trouble.
But she just might be the right kind.
I’m about to turn the cart around when I hear her voice speaking to someone. It sounds too polite. Too careful.
I move faster.
The second I round the aisle she’s in, I see him.
Grayson fucking Coates.
The oldest of the three Coates brothers. Tall, rail-thin, greasy hair tucked under a ballcap. Eyes like a man who enjoys making people uncomfortable.
And he’s leaning a littletooclose tomyAbigail.
“Well, ain’t you a pretty little thing,” he says with a grin that makes my blood boil. “Haven’t seen you around. New in town?”
She forces a polite smile as her fingers tighten around the box in her hands. Not enough to shake, but enough that I see it. “Billings is a big city.”
Smart girl. She doesn’t admit where she’s actually living. But I’m about to make it abundantly clear. A smarter man might let her handle it, but she shouldn’t have to. This girl has dealt with enough Grayson Coateses in her life. I’m not about to let her deal with another. Not on my fucking watch.
I step between them so fast the cart rattles. “Funny,” I say, staring him down, “I would have thought you would have learned not to mess with what’s mine by now, Grayson.”
He smirks. “Lawson Taylor. Always a pleasure.” He looks past me to give Abigail another once over, and I want to gouge his eyes out in the middle of the store. “Yours,huh?”
“What the hell are you doing in Billings, Grayson?”
