The night with Charlotte had been fucking amazing, and sure, he’d woken up hard that morning, thinking of her warm skin with only a cold sheet to greet him. She was sexy and smart and there was something in her eyes that called to him. A deep longing. Sadness. He’d had a soul-deep need to make that flicker of sadness disappear.
But a roll in his truck wasn’t where it ended. They were neighbors now. And Gracie already liked her.
“Well, whatever your problem is, just know you’ll have a tough time keeping Gracie away,” Bo said.
“No shit.”
“And you owe me a condom. I saw you broke into my stash in the glove box.”
Fucking perfect. Tripp raked his fingers through his hair and headed to the kitchen for a cup of cold coffee. It had automatically brewed at five this morning, but had he made time to drink it? Nope. He never did, and neither did Bo or Cash. Every day went about the same way: an early morning, followed by cold coffee and sandwiches at lunch. Then they’d be back out on the ranch. They all knew the routine and met back here at lunchtime. He could plan his watch around it.
“Got the salt licks out on the east forty,” Cash said, coming in the back door. He poured himself some coffee and sat across from Bo. “How’d you boys do this afternoon?”
“Oh, we did great,” Bo said with a chuckle. “Made a new friend.”
“Yeah? Who?”
Tripp just shook his head, wanting this conversation to be over with.
“Mrs. Gram’s hot granddaughter,” Bo said, and waggled his eyebrows. “Seems she already knows Tripp. Can’t imagine how.”
“Shut up,” Tripp said. And where did Bo get off calling her hot? He loved the guy like a brother, but refused to think of Charlotte as ever being a notch in Bo’s bedpost. She was better than that.
Not that Tripp was jealous or anything.
Cash looked between the two of them. “Is that the woman he hooked up with last night?”
Bo nodded.
“Well, if that isn’t pleasant irony,” Cash said, and slapped the table.
“No, not pleasant,” Tripp grumbled. “We’ll just stick to our land and I bet we won’t even see her.”
“Gracie was there,” Bo told Cash, ignoring Tripp.
Cash’s eyes went wide. “She met Gracie?”
“Yep. And Gracie loves her. Tripp is having damn aneurysm over it, but I think it’s good for her. Plus, the woman is smokin’ sexy—”
“I’m standing right here,” Tripp snapped. “Jesus, you’re like a gossiping girl.”
“I thought you didn’t care?” Bo challenged.
“I don’t.”
“Well, I do. My mama raised me to be kind to my neighbors. Maybe I’ll be neighborly and pop on over to see how the Gram women are doing,” Bo said, leaning back in his seat.
Red heat snapped behind’s Tripp’s eyes, and the vein in his neck thumped harder.
“Like hell you will,” he bit out.
Cash laughed. “Yep, he’s losing his shit.”
Tripp shoved away from the table and stood. “This isn’t anything we should get involved in. If Mrs. Gram thinks Charlotte can run the farm, that’s her business.”
Bo picked up the newspaper and flipped through the first few pages. “You know better than anyone what it’s going to take to run that little farm. Not much for an experienced farmer, but that little miss tackling all those tasks? Alone? All day and night…”
Bo grinned over the paper and Tripp knew what he was doing—trying to get a rise out of him. It was working.