her glass. Joey blew off the comment, but Madison caught it. “It’s been years since Simone. And a horse just walked by. Hop on.”
“Take a ride,” Gabriella said, drawing the last word out with a grin.
“You two are tag-teaming me,” Joey said, gesturing with her wineglass at the pair. “You’re a no-good duo and you know it.” She grabbed a folded plaid blanket from the pile of three she’d carried out and noted its scratchy goodness. All farm blankets were a tad scratchy. It was a rule.
“We still do some things well together,” Gabriella said. “But listen, if you want to take it slow, I applaud you. That’s the responsible way to go about it, just a little less exciting for me, but that’s not our goal.” She shrugged. “Becca’s not going anywhere and neither are you.”
“Thank you for getting that.”
“Now tell me all about your talk today.” Gabriella leaned in. “And emphasize any sexy parts. No. Embellish them.”
Madison rolled her eyes as Joey launched into the tale. “It started with her dog…”
Later that night, Joey couldn’t sleep. She turned onto her side, her back, her stomach until she finally threw the covers off and sat up in the dark room. The problem was she kept flashing on her afternoon and that undeniable push-pull tension she’d experienced in Becca’s presence. Her skin tingled in sensitivity and her mind went places racier than she was used to. Was it possible that their opposing sides had made their dynamic…even hotter? There was now something forbidden about Becca that had Joey shifting uncomfortably in the tank top and panties she’d worn to bed. She remembered the flecks of gold in Becca’s eyes. She visualized the way she sometimes ran a hand through her hair. She bit her lip when she thought about the sexy way Becca formed her words and the intelligent manner in which she communicated. Her body responded. The temperature in the room rose. She visualized Becca doing the most decadent of things to her body, and it responded readily.
Oh, this was most definitely getting complicated.
* * *
Whisper Wall, Oregon, had an entire restaurant dedicated entirely to French fries, and Becca was here for it. The place was called I Only Have Fries for You, which made it only more perfect in Becca’s eyes. Inside there were famous paintings in which the subjects had been swapped out for a fry wearing sunglasses. Girl with a Pearl Earring was now a fry, as were the Mona Lisa and many others. She marveled at the genius and grinned in support.
Once she looked at the menu, which was only a fourth the size of a regular menu, Becca found the restaurant’s name fitting because they legitimately offered nothing else. She’d arrived for her setup a few minutes early because first impressions mattered, and she’d never want anyone waiting on her.
“What about a side salad?” she asked the server while she waited on her date. While Becca had made it clear to the cowboys that a romance with this woman was unlikely, she’d shut her mouth and agreed to keep an open mind when they’d argued. The only problem was her mind was otherwise preoccupied with someone else.
“No salads,” the server said. He was a glasses-wearing teenager in a red T-shirt with a container of overflowing French fries depicted on the front. He wore a name tag that read Kevin and refused to participate in a single vocal shift or facial expression, which had Becca intrigued and up for the challenge.
“A burger?” she asked with a grin.
“God, no,” he deadpanned.
“Chicken strips. I do love a good strip.”
“Nope.”
“How about another potato product? There are so many. Loaded baked? Tater Tots?”
“No.”
“You could ask the chef, Kevin.” Now she was just messing with him.
He touched her menu. “Just the fries. And toppings and sauces. All we got.”
She pointed at the menu. “Let’s hope I can mustard up the courage to order.”
Kevin blinked. Nothing.
“You know what? I’m going to wait for my date to arrive before ordering the fries. Ketchup with you later?”
He nodded curtly, turned on his heel, and headed to the front of the restaurant. She wondered if the constant fry service had scared away his zest for life. Shame. Just then, in total contrast to Kevin, a perky individual bounded her way into the restaurant. She stood at the front of the room and scanned the nearby tables, which signaled Becca that this might be her date, Emmaline. She had the same dark curly hair as