West of Forever (Heartstone Ranch #1)(62)

I lean in and kiss him. “For that compliment, I’ll make sure mine is sexual and you’ll like it.”

Tristan leans back. “Be forewarned, mine will not be.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to win.”

One of my family’s favorite activities is card games. I’m very good at them. My brothers are known for cheating whenever they can, so I’ve had to learn how to not only catch them but beat them.

This is going to be super fun—for me.

I shuffle again and then hand the cards to him. “Here, you deal so I can’t be accused of cheating.”

Tristan chuckles but takes the deck. He deals us each five cards, and I have nothing matching, so I go for a random card to start. “Do you have any sixes?”

“Go fish.”

I draw a card, and it’s not a six. “Your turn.”

Tristan studies me. “Do you have any queens?”

Damn it. I do have one. I sigh, pulling the queen out of my hand. “Here you are.”

He smiles. “Thank you. My turn again, right?”

“Yes,” I say a little testily, but I don’t like losing.

“Do you have any threes?”

What the fuck? How? “Are you cheating?” I ask.

“How the hell would I be cheating? I dealt the cards you shuffled, and you watched me deal. You have a three?” Tristan looks absolutely gleeful as he takes my outstretched card. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I murmur, making fun of him as I do it. “Jerk.”

“How the hell am I a jerk for playing the game you wanted to play?”

“Just shut up and take your next turn.”

His deep laugh rolls through me. At least one of us is enjoying this so far. “Do you have any fours?”

“Ha! Go fish!” I’m just a little too excited, and Tristan tilts his head to study me. “What? I’m just happy you’re fishing.”

Not that he wasn’t going to be anyway, since we have only five cards.

The game goes on, and Tristan is kicking my ass. I mean, stomping me. Each time I get close to a set, he somehow manages to ask for that card, and I have to give three up.

“We can stop now,” he offers.

“Absolutely not!” I say in protest. There’s not a chance I can come back and win, but it’s the principle. I will not accept defeat lying down.

I’m a Gatlin, for heaven’s sake. I have to fight, especially a Stone.

“All right, I’m just being a gentleman here.”

“If that was the case, you’d let me win.”

He raises one brow. “Let you win? Like you’d let me win?”

“No, but I didn’t claim to be a gentlewoman. I want to win. I like winning.”

“I know, but maybe this will be a good lesson in humility,” Tristan says as he places down another set. “You know, humble you a bit.”

I flip him off.

“Anytime, babe.”

“That wasn’t an offer. In fact, I’m pretty sure this might have been our last time,” I lie.

He leans forward on his left hand, voice dropping low. “I’ll take that bet too. You like what we’re doing. You’re not ready to give this up.”

I hate that he’s right. I do enjoy this. I love every damn minute of what we have. The sex is great, and he’s funny, brings snacks, likes to cuddle—which I keep telling myself I don’t enjoy—and he’s sweet.

All these things make being around him fun.

Also, not having any expectations or requirements is so damn freeing.

I can be myself. I’m not trying to impress him. If anything, I’m trying to not impress him.

“Just shut up and give me your jacks.”

“You want my jack? Come and get it.” He wiggles his brows, and I burst out laughing. My cards go flying at him, and then I launch myself into his arms. Tristan catches me, chuckling as he falls back, pulling me to his chest.

“You’re an idiot,” I tell him.

“And yet here you are in my arms.”

I shake my head because it’s true. I am. Like a dummy.

I swipe my legs against the stacks of cards and look up into his eyes. “Oops, the cards are messed up, and now we’ll never be able to see who won.”

“Oh, how convenient.”

“I was going to say terrible, but…that works.”

Tristan grins. “You know I won. I was kicking your ass.”

“I’m really sorry, Tristan. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He rolls me over, hovering above me, wrapped in his sweatshirt. “No? Do I need to jog your memory?”

That sounds promising. “And how, pray tell, do you plan to do that?”

“I have a few ideas.” His hand snakes down my side to my hip.

“Then by all means, cowboy, jog my memory.”

The funny thing is, he doesn’t do that. In fact, he makes me forget everything. Including the fact that I’m supposed to hate him.





Ben Thrustin





Good morning. Can you get away for a night and not to meet me at the ridge?