Even though the idiot is not wrong, Rory chooses to ignore the information about me and clamps his back. I don’t like seeing her hand on him, but if we don’t get him in the house right now, he is going to spend the next week in the hospital, battling a wicked lung infection.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks.

He shrugs into her palm.

“You cannot ride cows, Ash.”

“That’s not a cow.” He points at the cow with his half-lit cigarette, waving it around, like it proves something. “That’s a horse, honey pie.”

I put my fist to my mouth to cover my smile. Rory nods patiently. She draws circles on his back with her palm, gently persuading him to walk toward me and out of the field.

“What makes you think it’s a horse?” she asks conversationally.

“It’s completely brown. Cows can only be black or white or both.”

“Hmm…” She sounds like she’s considering the merits of his argument. “What else?”

“I saw it running from the barn when I walked by. Cows don’t run. They’re fat and lazy.”

That’s not true. I’ve seen cows run plenty. Granted, it’s an odd sight, but it is possible. They run heavily, like elderly ladies trying to catch a departing bus.

“What were you doing here in the first place?”

She keeps him talking. They reach the gravel path I’m standing on. We proceed toward the cottage, knowing damn well that Ashton is high enough to make a U-turn at any point and go back to the cow, demanding his ride. We need to keep him engaged until we lock the door with him inside the house.

“I was looking for you.” He turns toward Rory, poking her arm with his cigarette.

Thankfully, it died because he couldn’t light it properly. My jaw twitches, and I slide between them, bracing his back and breaking their contact. It’s a relief to be protective of Rory. Trying to hate her was exhausting, and futile.

She had none of my bullshit, for one thing. And for another, I always felt shitty trying to make her sad.

“Why were you looking for me?” Rory blinks, puzzled.

“Because our host here was being a sulky-ass motherfucker. You know, I don’t think it’s just sex he wants from you, honey pie. The only time I saw him smile was when you were around.”

“Our host is married,” Rory says, the three of us walking up the road, back to the cottage. “To someone else. There was no need for you to look for me.”

“No, he’s not.” Ashton laughs, wildly and loudly and more annoyingly than legally allowed, I’m sure.

“You also thought a cow was a horse, Richards. Not sure you’re in a position to give your opinion about anything, least of all my martial status,” I mutter.