I could scream. “I hate him so much.”
“I told you, I’ll handle him. You can trust me. But let me be clear about something, Cove. If Austin lays another finger on you in a way that’s not a fucking handshake or a method of feeding you, I’ll escort his limp body out myself. There will be no fake consent. You don’t want to be touched? Then he doesn’t fucking touch you. End of story.”
“I understand. But I will still have to sleep in the room with him. You need to get over that if we want this to work.”
“I don’t have to like it,” he exclaims. “But I know you can handle yourself. You made it this far.” My face softens, all while pride fills me. “You aren’t alone anymore, Cove. I’ve got you. Okay?”
“Okay. You’ve got me,” I whisper. We’re no longer kissing, yet it’s just as intimate. I have a feeling we’ve got a lot of missed moments to make up for. But this isn’t the time or place. Not when everyone Stetson loves, minus two, are a football field away from us.
I’m just grateful he believed me without argument. Not even at the request of concrete proof, which I would have been happy to give him. He trusted my word, and that means everything to me.
He pats my bottom and sets his cowboy hat back on his head. “You should head back to dinner.”
“But the view just got so much better.” I tap the tip of his Lucchese hat, the naked black leather sliding along the pad of my finger like satin.
The grin I’ve missed is back, and I could dance like alovesick fool, thrilled it’s directed at me. Stetson transfers the hat to my head. “You know what they say?”
I smirk. “You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy. Yeah, I know the saying, big guy. But what if I told you I preferred you to be the one who rides me?”
Stetson traces my exposed skin with his hand, from the top of my shoulder to the edge of my wrist. “Then I’d be an idiot not to ask what you had in mind.”
I slide off his lap and place a quick kiss on his lips. “Well, that’s for me to know and you to find out, cowboy.”
The vision Stetson becomes with a smile on his face stirs a frenzy of butterflies in my stomach. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Now, please go think of a plan while I stuff my face with one of your Aunt Marge’s homemade brownies. I need to eat my feelings before facing tomorrow.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
stetson
Clay:
Be there later. I come bearing gifts.
Great. I’ll encourage everyone to leave.
Clay:
You know…you’ve never been funny to me…
Never claimed to be.
Clay:
Makes me wonder if you’re trying to show off for a certain someone?
I sigh,because what thehell?
Pardon?
Clay:
Your dearest friend’s daughter, Stetson. Never would have guessed that fun fact. Abbi posted a pic and the anger coming from you across the table stunk. You’ve always been horrible at faking it.
Jesus. Abigail is posting pictures online and Clay already put the pieces together.
I know who she is, Clay. Don’t forget you signed an NDA. Keep your trap shut.
