“I’m looking forward to it.” West caught her lips with his.
Cole pushed his hand through his hair, feeling like a third wheel—worse than that; he was a louse. He knew exactly how West was using her, and he felt helpless to do anything about it. His inaction didn’t sit right, but shoving his nose where it didn’t belong wouldn’t work either.
West and Eva were going to do exactly what they wanted to do.
And still, he felt miserable.
West turned to his brother. “Keep those shotguns on you, okay?”
Cole nodded numbly. Maybe he should accept the pay, too. He’d somehow become Trout’s hired gun.
West left Eva with more promises than he could possibly keep, and rode out of there like a NASCAR driver with the other competitors on his heels. He wasn’t about to give Cole a chance to change his mind about their agreement.
A yapping from Lizardman made him realize that West had left his dog behind too. Cole’s babysitting status was complete.
Taking a steadying breath, he glanced over at Eva. Her fingers tightened over the shotgun. She rested the barrel against the ground. He broke into a reluctant laugh. “You little fake. I bet you can shoot every single one of those targets right between the eyes.”
“Who? Me?” Her denial was too theatrical to be believed.
He’d challenge her to a duel of target practice, except he needed to get this fence up. The storm had blown over this section, and the cattle had done the rest, escaping into the marshland. So far, none of them had sunk into the mud, but it was only a matter of time.
Eva was hardly dressed to be out here. His eyes ran over her pretty little cowgirl outfit. She had the tight jeans and the flirty blousy shirt that made her seem like she belonged to the bleachers of the rodeo, instead of working at a ranch.
“Do those boots do something more than walking?” he asked her.
She burst into a smile. “They’d better—they cost me a pretty penny.”
Didn’t she mean they had cost her daddy? Whatever. “Okay,” he said. “Help me hold this post while I get this wire back on it.”
To her credit, she nodded eagerly. She set the shotgun aside and stepped forward in those sassy boots, reporting for duty.
He noticed her bare hands and grunted out his opposition. “Wait, wait… where are your work gloves?”
“It’s fine. I don’t need any.”
His eyes ran to her manicured nails, and he ripped off his own gloves. “Take these.” Her nose wrinkled. “It’s better than tearing up those fine hands of yours,” he said.
She snatched the gloves from him. “You think my hands are fine?”
Did he say that? He ignored the question, bringing the post up so that she could help brace it with him. She was small, maybe smaller than most of the girls that he knew, but she had spunk and her extra pair of hands made all the difference with helping him to balance this.
“That’s cool that you have an abandoned mine out here,” she said.
He shook his head. “It’s not as amazing as West makes it sound.”
“But it’s history,” she said. “I love taking a look into the past and just kind of imagining how things used to be.” She sighed. “You might as well show it to me.”
“Burro Mine is just a make-out spot.” Someone had to break it to her. She jumped, startled at his bluntness and he smothered his grin. “You should probably get your fiancé to take you there.”
She ducked her head with a laugh. “The make-out spot? Yeah, he’d better!” She pushed her knee into the post while Cole drove it into the ground. As soon as he got it into place, she touched the leather bracelet sliding around his wrist. “What’s that?”
He glanced down at the lettering. It said “Lily” for his momma. His sister-in-law, Mimi, had come up with the idea to show their support for their mother’s fight to keep her failing heart alive. “It’s for my mom. All the brothers wear one.”
“Even West?”
“Hehasone.” Judging by her surprised expression, West didn’t wear it. Cole wasn’t surprised. “He was never one for… uh… superstition, as he calls it.”
That was a nice way of saying that his brother was a godless heretic.