The Guy in the Middle (The Underdogs 3)

Cursing, I charge toward her. “Give me that.”

“No.” She turns away from me as I glare at Trevor, who’s smiling like Alice’s Cheshire cat. “I may be in love with her. I think this is the only woman who has ever said no to you.”

“Interesting,” Harper says, her cheeks heating.

“Trust me, none of them had him tied up the way you do,” Trevor says, jutting his chin toward me.

“Good to know. Channah-nan-na-nan,” she cocks her rifle, eyeing the cow with disdain, “enjoy your Lance since your days are numbered.” And with that, she leaves the barn with Trevor hot on her heels.

“They aren’t working, damnit, they aren’t working. It’s like tunnel vision. I can’t see shit,” She whisper-yells next to me. I take the goggles from her and flip them over before switching them to night vision. “Oh. Jesus. How did I miss that? Blonde moment, for sure.”

“Shhhh, lady love, not so loud,” Trevor chuckles, and it grates me. I know he’s doing it just to screw with me, though some part of me does think he’s smitten.

“So, what are the signs?” Harper asks.

“Well, that would be a ‘yote coming into view,” I say under my breath. I’m supposed to be doing a hundred other things aside from entertaining this bullshit.

“Smartass,” she spouts, lifting her night vision goggles to scan the herd. “I just meant, is there anything in particular to look for?”

“A coyote,” Trevor and I say together.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” she ignores our sarcasm. “And shoot pool. I’ve never done that.”

“We’ve got a hall up the road,” Trevor says. “Lance use to stomp around up there. He’s good.”

“How good?”

“Really good,” Trevor supplies.

She nudges me. “Will you teach me?”

“Don’t have the time,” I say, imagining her bent over the table for a shot, her long legs in a short skirt. I hate every minute of this. This conjured image just another I’ll need to wipe, along with the one of her in those coveralls. She’s pressed against my hip, laying on her stomach with Trevor on the other side of her. She’s on watch while we each have a scope on the herd.

“You bring the hooch?” Trevor asks.

“Yeah, you have hooch?” Harper mimics. You would think they are related.

“No, because this isn’t a party.”

“Could be,” Trevor quips. “God, you used to be so much more fun, brother.”

“I can’t drink that shit so close to a fight, and oh, you’re sixteen.”

“That didn’t stop you from giving me that moonshine not too long ago,” he smarts.

“It was two shots, enough to shut you up, which you two apparently can’t do now. If we have any chance of catching them, it won’t be due to this circus.”

“I think we’re doing a fantastic job,” Harper says, her binoculars up.

“You are,” Trevor says.

Harper scoots in closer to me for warmth, and I allow it. It’s freezing tonight, but clear, clear enough that we have a real shot of catching the culprit responsible for the dead heifer I found today.

“I see it,” Harper whisper-shouts. “There’s two, three of them.”

“Bullshit,” Trevor says, looking through his scope.

“About fifty yards away from the barn.”