Cowboy Up (Coming Home #3)

I watch Luke’s emotions change like someone flipped a switch inside him. One second he’s serious as a heart attack, and the next he’s smiling a toothy grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The change is so quick, had you not been watching him closely, you would’ve missed it.

“I think that right there about says it all for me, but since your lady time always makes you feel the need to pick fights with me, I’ll clarify so you can stop lookin’ for reasons to jump down my throat. You, sweet Caroline, hate when anyone calls you some shortened variation of your name. I know it’s because your mama always had some different name for you growing up and it makes your remember that shit. When others do it, your nose always scrunches up, your eyes get all slitty until they almost look fuckin’ closed, and your nostrils start floppin’ around like they’re gonna take flight and leave your face. You have never, not in all the years that I’ve known you, been able to hear someone shorten your name without losin’ your mind. Which is why we always keep doin’ it—not just because we want to erase the negative things your mama did, but because it’s funny as hell to watch sweet, shy, little Caroline Michaels get pissed off. But when Davis does it, you look like a stampede of kittens just ran up to your feet and promised you a life of fluffy cuddles.”

“His name is Clayton. Not Davis,” I stupidly say, clearly still looking for a fight.

“Name’s still Davis, too.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you made me think that was his first name, Luke.”

He laughs. “Change the subject, fine. Means you know I’m right. And Caroline, it’s not my fault you were callin’ out his last name all because you didn’t bother to properly introduce yourselves the night you met.”

My face heats, and I know he’s going to win if I keep trying to argue with him. What’s the point? He isn’t wrong. Not even a little. And all four people sitting in this booth know it.

I turn my head and look at the man holding me close, his face so near mine that his soft breath dances across my cheeks. My gaze falls to his mouth when he smiles and, having decided it’s time for me to be brave enough to at least confirm what Luke just said, I open my mouth. “I like it when you call me Linney, Clayton. Luke, as frustrating as he is, isn’t wrong, and you should know it means somethin’ to me and that I’d like it if you didn’t stop.”

The left side of his mouth twitches twice before his full smile appears. “All right. And just so you know, I like the fuck out of you callin’ me Clayton. No one calls me by my full name, but even if they did, I wouldn’t like it half as much as I do when you’re sayin’ it in that sweet whisper. That’s all yours, Linney.”

He’s halfway through his mini speech when my focus moves from his full lips to those green eyes that even a nun could get lost in. I blame those stupid, beautiful eyes for what I do next, because it’s so out of character for me, it’s the only way I can explain it. My back straightens, my head moves, and I press my lips to his in a soft, quick, but no less amazing kiss. He sucks in a sharp breath when my mouth connects to his, the hand resting on my shoulder flexes, and when I pull away, the soft look of happiness in those green depths shows me that I can trust the guy who chipped away a big piece of the armor that had been guarding my heart.

“Now that all that’s out of the way, want to tell me why you’re eatin’ here when we made plans last night?” he asks softly, voice low and forehead resting against mine a second longer before lifting away, keeping his face close.

“Because I was hungry?”

“Darlin’, it’s four in the afternoon. Are you tellin’ me you’re still gonna be hungry for dinner after eatin’ one of Big Tom’s famous burgers?”

“Have you had a Big Tom burger?”

He nods, smiling a tiny smirk.

“Then I think you know why I’m eatin’ one at four in the afternoon. When someone says they’re goin’ to have one of the best burgers in Texas, you don’t pass that up.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Are you still goin’ to want dinner when I pick you up, or should we do somethin’ else?”

At the mention of him picking me up, something real close to embarrassment starts to burn up my throat, which makes no dang sense. I certainly didn’t set my store ablaze and in turn, make myself homeless—but that’s just what I am, homeless. I shouldn’t be ashamed of it, but even though I didn’t intentionally keep it from him, I still feel badly about it.

“How about we just leave from here?” I offer lamely. “Save you the trouble of havin’ to drive an hour from here to Law Bone, when we’re both in Wire Creek.” Of course, in my quest to save him some gas, I don’t realize my mistake until it’s too late.

“Uh-oh,” Lucy whispers loudly with a giggle, clearly coming to the same conclusion.

“Why would I be drivin’ out to Law Bone tonight to pick you up if you aren’t helpin’ out at Hazel’s when you live here, darlin’?”

I hear Luke laugh, but I don’t look away from Clayton. “I was goin’ to tell you,” I rush out, proud that I don’t feel my cheeks getting red.

He lifts his head more and looks at me with one brow up, waiting for me to continue.

“You see, there was a tiny problem with my place. . . .” I bite my lip and wince. “Okay, so maybe by tiny I mean real big, but that was before well, you, and I really didn’t think to mention it last weekend when we were at your house after the shower and, to be honest, it kinda slipped my mind with the whole head-on-collision horse-crash thing and runnin’ into my mama and well, you. . . .” I stop talking, thankful that my mouth finally just decided to snap shut when my brain wouldn’t stop the flow of verbal diarrhea.

“She had a fire at her bookstore. She doesn’t normally work at Hazel’s—she only does that now because her place is gone. Tried to get her ass at Luce’s and my place, but she’s a stubborn one, our Carrie,” Luke mumbles around a slice of pie I didn’t even notice had arrived.

“Caroline,” both Clayton and I tell him at the same time, breaking our staring contest in the process.

“Jesus Christ, not you too!” Luke grunts in annoyance.

I look back to Clayton just in time to see a mean-as-heck expression on his face, aimed at one of my best friends for something as simple as using a nickname that he now knows I don’t like. I have no idea why that’s so hot, but it makes my belly flutter in the most insane way.

“I really was goin’ to tell you—it just didn’t seem like the right time,” I defend weakly.

Clayton looks down at the table and shakes his head, but I know he isn’t that mad, because there’s a slight tip to the side of his mouth. He mumbles something, but it’s so low I can’t hear him.