Page 112 of Lost Trust

I keep going because, apparently, somebody needs to tell her what the hell Blaze Cassel should’ve been smart enough to figure out himself.

“And that makes you more badass, not less.”

Her lips part.

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the steering wheel. “You didn’t stop being the woman you were before. You became the woman who brought his kid into the world. Gave him that gift.”

I glance toward the road, remembering Ryder skipping ahead of us toward the cabin, that oversize cowboy hat bouncing on his head. I can still hear him and Ruby squealing as they hopped around in the sprinkler, their excited voices carrying across the yard.

“And from what I’ve seen, you’re damn good at being his momma.”

When I look back at her, her eyes are shining.

I lower my voice. “So, don’t you ever let some dumbass make you believe being a mother somehow erased the woman you were before.”

A tiny smile tugs at her mouth. “You really think I’m badass?”

I grin. “I know you’re badass.”

Her smile grows.

I let my eyes move over her face. “A fucking gorgeous badass.”

She laughs softly, wiping beneath one eye.

The sound settles something deep in my chest. Because five years ago, I thought Marina was beautiful. Tonight, I’m starting to realize beautiful doesn’t even scratch the surface.

Marina

I’m not entirely sure how I got talked into this.

One minute, I was standing on the porch of my cabin, saying goodbye to Royce, and the next, he was looking at me over the roof of his truck and asking, “You wanna come out with us tonight?”

He asked it like it was no big deal. Right in front of my mother.

Which was how I ended up with Ginger eagerly offering to stay with Ryder.

Of course she did. She practically beamed as she said it.

Then she disappeared back inside, announcing that I had absolutely nothing appropriate to wear, and proceeded to take over my evening.

The result is what I’m wearing now.

A fitted deep-teal suede dress with a plunging zipper front and fringe running across the chest, down the skirt, and around the hem. Mom cinched it at my waist with a wide tooled leather belt and a big silver buckle. She paired it with brown cowgirl boots and my brown felt hat, then curled my hair and did my makeup. She went a little heavy-handed on the eye shadow. But I have to admit, she did a damn good job.

And the truth is, I like it. I feel pretty.

I like the way the fringe sways against my skin when I move. I like the boots. I even like the ridiculous amount of eyeliner.

Mostly, I like the nervous little hum running through me.

I’m sitting in the middle of Royce’s truck, settled on the bench seat between him and Jovie, with one leg angled around the gear shifter because there is absolutely no graceful way to straddle the thing.

Jovie is squeezed against my other side.

In the back, Cabe, Micah, and Harleigh are packed in together.

“So, this place is called The Soused Cow?” I ask.