Champion

- Summer -

Dad: How many interviews have you set up for this weekend?

Summer: Two.

Dad: Good. You need to tell him what he needs to say. He's refusing to play this off as a joke, so he needs to at least seem remorseful.

Summer: For punching a guy or for having a beverage preference?

Dad: Both. We could have him go out and order a glass of milk and call someone to snap photos.

Summer: No. We're not doing that. Don't even suggest it.

Dad: Why?

Summer: Because he doesn't like it.

"How's the hot cowboy?" Willa asks, sounding somewhat distracted on the other end of the line.

"Good. Fine," I say, leaning on top of my leather duffel bag to close everything into it. I thought it would be perfect for our weekends away, but I don't pack light.

"Actually?" She sounds surprised, and I suppose after out last conversation, that makes sense.

"Yeah. I think we came to some sort of truce earlier this week. My days have involved of working out every morning and then making travel arrangements and sending interview requests for the cities we're heading to. I'm thinking if I can curate some of these news stories for him, they might be more favorable."

I decide not to mention that I almost climbed on top of him at the gym yesterday. That he looked good enough to eat and that he finally treated me like he might not totally hate me.

"Huh. And he's staying out of trouble?"

"Wils, he's not a dog who keeps getting out of the yard. He mostly sleeps, reads, and helps his dad and brothers around the ranch. He's not an idiot, and there's only so much to do out here. I'm not going to ride his ass unnecessarily."

She hums suggestively. "But would you let him ride yours?"

"Okay, it's been nice chatting! Bye!"

"Prude," she mutters. 

"Love you too," I say before ending the call and putting my focus on the last section of zippers. When I finally realize that it's going to break the bag if I travel with the smaller duffel, I give up and pack everything into the hardshell suitcase.

I drag my bag down the hallway and meet Rhett at the front door to leave for the airport. He holds a fist over his mouth for a moment to stifle a laugh. I suppose laughing at me is preferable to the scowling we started with.

"Is Kip hiding in that suitcase?"

My lips twitch. "Shut up."

He doesn't shut up. He says, "You know we're gone for four days, right?" But he smiles at me. And it stuns me. All masculine confidence and playful allure.