Page 20 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

Mike scratched the back of his neck. "First time, I was hauling a brisket and kicked the door shut by accident. Second time, Kenny closed it on me."

"On purpose?"

"He said it was an accident." Mike's grin was lopsided. "But he also said I needed to learn patience."

"And did you?"

"Hell no. I yelled for twenty minutes."

Liv laughed despite herself, and the sound echoed in the cold metal space.

"Don't you have your cell phone?" she asked after a beat.

He patted his pocket. "Afraid not."

Mike shrugged out of his flannel and handed it to her. "Here."

She hesitated.

"I insist," he said.

She took it and slid her arms into the sleeves. The shirt was warm, earthy, infused with smoke and something unmistakably him.

The silence stretched. Breath clouded in front of them.

Mike leaned against the shelving, arms crossed. "You don't carry a phone."

It wasn't a question.

Liv pulled the flannel tighter. "I have a prepaid. For emergencies."

"Most people under forty have their phone surgically attached."

"I'm not most people."

"No," he said quietly. "You're not."

The cold seeped through her jeans. She could hear him breathing.

"My real name's not Ramsey."

The words came out so quiet she wasn't sure he'd heard.

But he had.

Mike went still. Not the kind of still that meant he was startled. The kind that meant he was processing. Calculating.

Then he exhaled. Slow.

"Okay."

That was it. Just okay?

Liv's eyes stung. She didn't know why. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Should it?"

"I lied on my application. I?—"