Page 28 of Taming the Wild Cowboy

He pushed his hands into his pockets. “You don’t have to camp.”

“Pretty much I do. I need to save every penny and besides that, I’m used to sleeping in my truck from when I went to clinics and such.”

Trev frowned his confusion. “You had a trailer with living quarters.”

“And then Frank came along.”

“The embezzler?”

“The same. Once I get my final paycheck from Sweet Grass Ranch, I’ll see about something else.” She looked around her. “Something less rustic.”

“Good plan.” Trev shifted his feet, leaving marks on the damp soil and she couldn’t say she liked the expression he wore because she couldn’t read it.

“Well …” She clutched the shirt more tightly around her, wanting to get back into her relatively warm truck. More than that, wanting him to be gone. “If you don’t mind me trespassing …”

“I do, actually.”

Maclyn was getting a little tired of gut punches.

Trev took a couple slow steps forward, causing her to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.

“Are you married to this situation?”

“Why?” she asked cautiously.

“You could stay in the foreman’s house on the Tree Fork. Hayes isn’t using it right now.” He held up his hand before she could spit out a no. “We all have our things to deal with, but there comes a point where not wanting to owe anybody anything becomes kind of, well …” he met her eyes with his clear blue gaze “… stupid.”

“Thanks.”

He cocked an eyebrow. It was hard to argue that what she was doing, camping in a truck in the early Montana spring, eating granola bars, and drinking lukewarm coffee from a thermos, was a sustainable practice.

“You can take a turn doing a cow check at night, which would give Wade a break.”

That sounded reasonable.

“Also, if Wade finds out about your living situation, he’ll have kittens.”

Too bad.

“And lastly”—he put a hand on her shoulder, the touch obviously meant to drive home a point, but it felt more intimate than that—“it’s impossible to go through life without ever owing anyone.”

Yes, but she could keep those circumstances to a minimum by toughing things out when necessary. “Is there a number four?” she asked, feeling a stab of disappointment as his hand fell away.

Watch yourself.

“Yes. How would it feel if you wanted to help someone, with no skin off your nose, and they wouldn’t let you?”

“I don’t need a white knight.”

“I’m not talking about you needing anything. If the situation was reversed, if someone was in a jam and you could help them, what would you do?”

“Trev.” She folded her arms over her chest. “You helped. You gave me a job,” despite her lack of experience. “You’re housing my horses, undercharging for hay. I think that’s enough for now.” He didn’t answer, so she asked, “Why are you pushing to rescue me?”

He tilted his hat back. “Isn’t that obvious?”

Maclyn narrowed her eyes. He owed her an apology for not believing her years ago. She could get behind that, but anything else … no. “We’ve been over that,” she said coolly.

Silence stretched between them, punctuated by the sound of Raisin snuffling through the bushes. Nothing like trying to sleep in a small space that smelled of wet dog. Yay. She didn’t want to sleep in the truck. She’d been offered an out. What was stopping her short of her fear of obligation? And the ever-increasing tug of attraction?