Page 10 of September’s Cowboy Travis

“If you start saying nice things about me people are going to start thinking you like me.”

“I said your paperwork was clean.” Apparently being audited hadn't put a dent in his confidence.

“That’s basically a love letter from an accountant.”

I laughed. “You have very low standards.”

“I've been accused of worse.”

The joke was right there again, easy enough to hide behind if I let him. This time I didn't. “You know your reputation isn't evidence, right?”

His smile faded.

“I know what I said yesterday,” I continued. “I mean it.”

He watched me for a long moment. Then he nodded once. “Thanks for telling me straight.”

“You asked me to follow the evidence.”

“I know.”

“So we’ll see where it leads.” I left before the quiet between us turned into something I wasn't ready to examine.

My phone buzzed as I reached the car.

Travis: Steer wrestling. Saturday. Don't pretend you forgot.

I looked across the yard. Travis stood beside the corral with one arm resting across the top rail. I typed back.

Me: I’m being paid to be there.

Travis: Working doesn’t count. I want you to watch my run.

Me: Why?

Travis: Because I’m good enough to make you forget you’re supposed to be working.

I laughed under my breath. The man had an impressive amount of confidence for someone whose finances I was currently investigating.

Me: Convince me.

Across the yard, Travis pulled out his phone. He read the message, lifted his head, and tipped the brim of his hat toward me instead of answering.

Fine. Saturday, I’d watch. And Travis Cole could prove whether all that confidence was justified.

CHAPTER 3

TRAVIS

By Friday afternoon, the rodeo grounds looked like somebody had kicked over an anthill with the way everyone was scurrying around. Stock trailers lined the back fence, volunteers hauled tables between vendor spaces, and horses shifted in the temporary pens along the arena. Jace stood near the main gate with a radio clipped to his belt, pointing people in three directions at once. Labor Day weekend hadn't even started yet, and I was already tired of people.

Then Kaycee stepped out of the office trailer with a folder tucked against her chest, her dark hair pulled back and the sun flashing across her glasses. My attention snapped to her before I could stop it, which had been happening often enough lately to piss me off.

So had thinking about the two words she'd texted after leaving my ranch.

Convince me.

I'd spent two days telling myself she meant steer wrestling and nothing else. That worked right up until I remembered the way she'd looked at me in the north pasture with her hand pressed against my chest.