Page 128 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

“Easy now.”

“You’ve got exactly three seconds.”

“To apologize?”

“To start running.”

His eyes widen. “See, that’s a different conversation.”

“You earned it.”

He gasps like I’ve insulted his entire family. “I scare you one time and suddenly I’m public enemy number one.” He hooks a thumb toward the diner. “Come on. Let’s go to the diner for milkshakes.”

I glance down the road. The highway waits exactly where I left it, stretching into the dark like it always has, ready whenever I decide to go.

Then I look back at Willy. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

He snorts. “I was paying before you agreed.”

“See, that’s the kind of information you should lead with.”

He laughs and throws an arm across my shoulders as we head toward the diner.

Halfway there, I realize I never looked back at the truck.

I keep walking.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Willy

Arizona hooks the cherry off the top of her milkshake with her spoon and aims it at me across the table. “So Red walks into the kitchen, finds three lambs eating breakfast, and all he says is, ‘Kane’?”

I nod. “One word. Then twenty minutes of disappointment.”

She tips her head back with a laugh. “That’s almost impressive.”

“I’ve spent years giving him chances to improve.”

“I can tell.”

She pops the cherry into her mouth, catches my eye over the rim of her glass, and smiles while she chews.

The diner has emptied around us. Betty Lou wipes down the counter in lazy circles while an old country song crackles through the jukebox.

Every so often she looks our way with the kind of smile that makes me nervous. I do my best to keep my attention on the table.

Arizona follows my glance toward the counter before looking back at me. “What was that?”

“Self-preservation.”

She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye and finishes the last of her milkshake before setting the empty glass aside. “So everybody keeps tabs on you?”

“Pretty much.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“I’ve stopped asking questions.”