Page 20 of Colt

And yeah, maybe I’m a little concerned Dad bit off more than he could chew here. I meant what I said when I told Lainey we’re busy. We do fall calving on our ranch, so we’re in the thick of that right now. Even when that’s not the case, I can’t imagine expanding our operations any further. With the new arena we just built—Dad and I agreed it was high time to start a training program for barrel racers—we’re stretched to the limit in terms of staffing.

In terms of what I can handle.

Draping my wrist over the steering wheel, I look out the windshield as Lainey climbs inside.

“Thanks for waiting.” She’s breathless.

“You’re welcome.” I lift my fingers in an approximation of a wave, biting back a grin. “How ya doin’?”

She pulls the door shut behind her, and then all of a sudden, I’m looking at her again.

Her face is flushed. Cheeks are a pretty shade of pink. She’s breathing hard, her ample chest rising and falling, straining the buttons of her shirt.

My skin pulses. Any other woman, I’d be asking her out to see Frisky Whiskey, a local cover band, at the Rattler on Friday night. But this woman? This twenty-four-year-old bullshit expert? I’m not touching her with a ten-foot pole.

She offers me a smile so big it shows how pointy her incisors are. The rage in her eyes sparkles. “I’m doing pretty damn great. How about yourself?”

There’s a tug in my center. More like a squeeze, actually, that has me feeling short of breath. So we’re playing it like that.

“Fuckin’ peachy.”

I try not to watch her tug on her jeans as she gets settled in the seat. I blame my inability to look away on how weird it is to have a girl in my truck. Last time was…never? Mom and Billie like to drive themselves wherever they go, and the hookups I’ve had usually take place in someone else’s bed or back seat.

“You wanna talk about it?” Her hair falls in her face as she looks down to buckle her seat belt.

I put the truck in reverse. “Talk about what?”

“The weather,” she deadpans.

“Weather’s good. Hot. But good.”

“No shit. Why don’t you trust me?”

Fuck her for diving right in. It’s infuriating. Who does she think she is?

“Because.”

She waits for me to finish the thought. I don’t.

“Excellent. I work better when it’s quiet anyway.” Straightening, she settles her notebook on her lap and gives me that angry, glittering smile again. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Just stay outta my way, yeah?” I pull out of the driveway. For a split second, I consider hanging a right. That would take us to Hartsville, the town closest to the ranch. From there, she could catch a bus home.

Bet that’d really get her going. Would she lose her mind on me? Slap me even?

My blood jumps at the thought. I know one thing: My dad would kill me. Much as I can’t stand Miss Priss here, I’d hate disappointing my dad more.

Lainey had to have driven here anyway, right? Where’d she park? What kind of car does she drive?

Why the fuck do I care?

I take the left turn toward the stables a little too fast. Lainey grabs the door as the truck lurches, but she doesn’t say a word. Just keeps looking through the windshield, gripping a pen in her other hand.

See, that gets me going. Must take a lot to ruffle her feathers. Kinda makes me wanna see how fun it’d be to do just that.

“What happens if I do get in the way?” She’s uncapping the pen now. “Is the sheriff going to come and arrest me?”

I furrow my brow. “Sheriff?”