Quickdraw Slow Burn (Battle of the Bulls #3) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,7

denied. We’re a herd. We stick together like glue and glitter.”

“Like corn on the cob and butter,” Raven chimed in.

“Like sprinkles and cupcakes,” Dead said.

“Jesus,” Quickdraw muttered under his breath as he made his way around the truck to help Annabelle down.

“Like Two Shots’ face and that spiderweb this morning,” Dead added.

Raven giggled and made her way to Annabelle, scooped her up and hugged her tight.

Annabelle played, too. “Like gum and the bottoms of my favorite shoes.”

Dead got a dreamy look in his eyes and held out his hands, palms out. “Like my hands and Raven’s boobs.”

“Okay, that’s good, Dead,” Raven called out as she pushed Annabelle back to arm’s length. That stuff would’ve embarrassed the hell out of her six months ago, but not anymore. Now, Raven couldn’t seem to stop smiling. She wasn’t even blushing.

She looked beautiful. Happy. Content. All the things Annabelle had wished for her friend over the years.

“Hey, MooMoo,” Annabelle teased her with the childhood nickname she’d given her years ago.

“Hey, Owoo. I was starting to think you would never come hang out with us again.” The happiness faded from her eyes just a little. “Is everything okay?”

Uh, she’d lost her job, was quite possibly knocked up by a famous bull shifter from a one-night stand, she hadn’t been able to change into her wolf in a month and, lately, she’d been craving clam chowder covered in guacamole. Ew. Her whole life was weird right now.

Annabelle plastered on her best smile. “Oh, I’m great.”

“Lie,” said Raven, Dead, and Quickdraw all at the same time.

The too-bright grin froze on Annabelle’s face. “I’m going to get freshened up. That was a long trip.”

Cheyenne threw open the door of Quickdraw’s camper and sang out, “We’re getting ready in here!” She held the last word like an opera note, full vibrato, high octave and everything.

Annabelle hunched and cringed at the high note. “Nailed it,” she teased.

“Thank you,” Cheyenne said with a magnanimous nod of her head. “I’m warming up for my win tonight.”

“I don’t think it’s a competition,” Quickdraw pointed out.

“Everything is a competition!” Cheyenne disappeared, and the door slammed behind her.

“Wait.” Quickdraw jogged over to his camper door and threw it open. “Why are you getting ready in here? And for God’s sake, why does it smell like girl in my RV?” His voice was very deep and loud, and his face was getting all red.

Annabelle pursed her lips against a laugh when she got a whiff of the heavy perfume Cheyenne had sprayed inside the camper.

Cheyenne popped out of the doorway and pulled Annabelle by the arm until she was trotting up the shallow trio of stairs and into the camper with her. “The smell will probably go away soon.”

Raven made her way past Quickdraw and patted him on the shoulder, to which he flinched and muttered, “I don’t like people touching me.”

“The smell will never go away,” she told him coolly and then sauntered into the camper and shut the door.

“But…I don’t understand why you chose my RV to ruin,” Quickdraw said from outside.

Annabelle could hear Dead explain, “Because you weren’t here to tell them ‘no’ when they got the dumbass idea to dress each other. Me and Two Shots denied any use of our campers for their girly shit. I don’t do glitter.”

Annabelle, Raven, and Cheyenne stood still in the middle of the camper living room and put their hands over their mouths to stifle their laughing as they listened to the conversation outside.

Dead grunted hard. “So violent,” he muttered. “Raven! Quickdraw shoved me. He touched my titty!” Lower he said, “My mate is a Hagan Heifer, and now she’s probably going to avenge me and kill you. These are her titties.”

“Dead, get dressed!” Quickdraw yelled from farther away.

“I am dressed!” Dead yelled back. “These are my going-out shorts!”

Okay, Annabelle couldn’t help her laughter after Raven looked at her and Cheyenne somberly and explained, “They really are his going-out shorts. He will absolutely wear that tonight.”

“Two Shots!” Quickdraw called from even farther away. “I need a beer, and you better have something manlier than Michelob Ultra in there.”

“That ain’t my fault!” Two Shots yelled. “Dead was the one who made the beer run.”

“I cut up limes for you two cows,” Dead called. “They’re in a Ziplock baggie in the fridge. It’ll give your beer a little zest.”

Annabelle lost it. Just—God, it felt so good to laugh after the last month. She sat on the couch, and her whole body shook with her laughter. The other