She laughs. “Okay.”
“Sadie?” A deep voice that I’ve heard in my head for the last week calls out. I turn, watching Tristan stride toward us like some freaking scene from a movie. The sun is setting behind him, and he’s wearing tight jeans, a white T-shirt, and a cowboy hat.
The sun makes it impossible to see his face until he’s closer, and oh, what a face.
The man is hot.
I really wish he wasn’t, but he is. He’s rugged and calls to that very base desire I’ve always had, but cowboys are trouble, and I have enough of that.
Sadie turns to her father and then turns to me. “Can I come see your coop?”
“If your dad is okay with it, sure.”
She looks to Tristan. “Am I allowed to visit Lark’s chicken coop one day? She has a chandelier in hers.”
His gaze moves to mine. “A what?”
“It’s a light, you know, hangs inside a lot of spaces.”
He rolls his eyes. “No, I don’t need you getting any ideas.”
Sadie shakes her head. “Whatever. Once again, I can’t do something.”
“Why don’t you bring the chicken back and then wash up for bed,” he suggests with a deep sigh.
She snaps to attention and salutes him. I fight back the laugh that’s bubbling up and turn my head.
“Bye, Lark,” Sadie says.
“Bye, Sadie.”
Sadie stomps off, and Tristan leans against the fence post, watching her go. “That kid is going to be the death of me.”
“She’s a smart girl.”
“Too smart.” He stands and turns to face me. “You said you wanted to talk.”
Oh yeah, that.
“I told the family about your roadside rescue. It went over about as well as you could imagine.”
He huffs a laugh. “You mean they wanted you to be stranded in the storm?”
“No, but…they didn’t want a reason to have to think you might not be the Antichrist.”
“Or that maybe we aren’t the horrible people you’ve imagined us to be, and we aren’t the culprits in this ridiculous prank war that someone else is doing?” he tosses back.
“Or that.”
Honestly, the entire thing is absurd, but I’m not going to win that argument anytime soon. My point of meeting him was to warn him that they know and there will probably be some comments made.
My brothers are not the most mature humans.
“I can handle it,” Tristan assures me. “Thanks for the warning. How did they respond toyouabout not telling them right away?”
About that…
I shrug. “I have a flair for the dramatic.”
