Tempting Love (Cowboys & Angels 3)

“Why do I have a feeling we are about to be schooled on romance by our baby sister?” Cord asked.

“You think she ordered each of us the audiobooks?”

Cord gave me a what-the-fuck look before rubbing the back of his neck and heading toward his office door. “She better have.”

I followed Cord back into the bar. Pulling my phone out, I sent Tripp a text message.

Me: She misunderstood me. I wanted to take her back to my place and talk.

Tripp: Yeah, she is pretty pissed. I think she is making an effigy of you right now.

My head pulled back as I stared at the phone.

“What?”

Me: What in the fuck?

Tripp: Dude, when I say she’s pissed…I mean she is PISSED. I don’t think I’ve ever head Corina curse and she’s called you an asshole six times.

I let out a groan.

“Shit.”

Tripp: My advice, don’t come over here or call her tonight.

Me: Why?

Tripp: Image

Opening up the picture, I stumbled back. “What in the living fuck!”

“What’s wrong?” Trevor asked as he handed me a beer.

I stared at the image before looking at Trevor.

“Corina. She…she made a doll of me, and I’m pretty sure that is a piece of my windbreaker I left the night we were together. I was wondering where that jacket went.”

It only took him about five seconds before Trevor burst out laughing.

“Awe, hell. I always did like that girl.”

When the lights of Tripp’s truck came around the corner, I let out a sigh. I was almost positive his uptight neighbors were fixin’ to call the sheriff.

The garage door opened and Tripp pulled in. Shutting off his truck, he looked at me and smiled.

“She made a fucking doll?” I asked.

“Dude, it was so true to life, too. She’s going to make a great kindergarten teacher. She’s totally crafty.” He pulled in a deep breath through his nose and exhaled. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let her go. She’d a been a good wife for the mayor.”

“Oh, fuck you, motherfucking dickhead son-of-a-bitch traitor bastard asshole cocksucker of a brother!”

Tripp stopped walking. “Wow. That was something there, baby brother.”

“Fuck off! I’m not your baby brother!”

“Um, yeah, you are!” he said as he reached up and shut his garage door. “I’m older, you’re younger. Need I explain it further?”

“I hope you lose your bid for mayor.”

Clutching his chest, Tripp tossed his keys onto his kitchen island. He lived in a huge house—over four thousand square feet. How in the hell he got paid so much for being a small town lawyer was beyond me. Of course, he did work for a firm in San Antonio, as well.

“That really hurts, bro,” he said. “Hurts deep.”

Guilt flooded my veins. “Shit, I didn’t mean that.”

Reaching into the refrigerator, he grabbed two beers. “I know you didn’t. Just like I didn’t mean it when I said I hope you misfired and shot yourself in the foot.”

The beer froze at my lips. “When did you say that?”

He smiled. “When I found out you slept with Corina.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. By the way, your wish could have caused bodily harm, mine wouldn’t have.”

He looked up in thought and then glanced at me and smiled.

“Asshole,” I said.

“Takes one to know one, Mitchell.”

I sat at one of the stools at his large kitchen island. “Is she okay?”

He leaned against the counter and took a long drink. “You want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“No. She’s nowhere near okay. Angry, hurt, feeling rejected…again.”

“I wasn’t rejecting her! I didn’t want to fuck her in Cord’s office. I wanted to take her back to my place.”

“To fuck.”

“No! Well, maybe after we talked, but I wanted to talk to her first. To tell her I’ve been so damn stupid. Ever since I saw Mrs. Johnson showing Corina how to cook, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I needed to talk to her.”

Tripp stared at me like I had grown two heads. “It was a pie crust that got you to realize you’ve been an ass?”

“Yes. No. Hell, I don’t know.” I gripped my hair with both hands as I let out a groan. “I didn’t want to leave her today. I wanted to watch her stupid cooking lesson, then take her to Lilly’s to get something to eat and tell her I wanted another shot.”

He lifted a brow. “Another shot at what?”

“Us. This thing I feel in my chest about her. I can’t eat or sleep because of it. My focus is all kinds of screwed up, and I’m afraid I’m going to accidently shoot myself in the foot.”

Tripp held up his hands when I gave him a fuck-off-and-die look. “Okay, listen. I’m the last person to give you advice, but I’m going to do it anyway.”

I leaned closer. “Okay.”

He set his beer down and rested his hands on the island. “This is what you need to do.”

“I’m listening.”