Ash eyed the bags with the picture of a happy cow on them, a laugh tumbling out of him. “Manure? You are truly diabolical. We are going to need the longest and most thorough shower after this.”

“We are.” She stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him, making his heart pick up speed and his body remind him of what he’d turned down earlier. She touched her finger to his throat and let it trail down his chest. “I have a shower big enough for two at my place. Afterward, we can get as clean as we want. You game for this, city boy?”

Ash wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet. “You’re on, Breslin. Go big or go home, right?”

She hooked her legs around his hips and looped her arms around his neck, pure glee on her face. “Always. Why do it any other way?”

Why, indeed. It’d always been one of the things he’d loved about Kincaid. When she was in, she was one hundred percent in. She’d never been one to waffle.

And right now, he was basking in the high of her being one hundred percent in with him.

A dangerous drug. But right now, he wasn’t going to worry about that. They had sweet and stinky revenge to mete out.

* * *

The lights inside the main house at Sam Caldone’s ranch were off when Ash flipped off the headlights of Charlie’s truck and quietly rolled into the long driveway. The tailgate of Sam’s shiny Ford pickup was gleaming in the moonlight. He’d parked it in a small barn that had been converted into a garage. The barn sat about a hundred yards from the main house, and the large barn doors were wide open. An older, beat-up truck was parked in front of the main house.

“Even though I’m not walking up to the porch to punch his face in,” Ash said as he backed in Charlie’s truck to get tailgate to tailgate with the other truck, “we still need to be on the lookout for getting shot. We’re on his property.”

“Yeah, we need to be careful, but he won’t hear us this far out if we’re quiet. And that big oak tree blocks the view of the barn from the front windows.” She opened her door and climbed out. They both took care in not shutting their doors all the way.

Ash walked over to Sam’s truck. The thing was painted Longhorn orange and had an actual set of longhorns on the front grill. Ash snorted under his breath and whispered, “This thing is decked out. Not a working farm truck, for sure.”

“Nope,” Kincaid said, keeping her voice low. “He uses the beat-up one by the house for day to day. He keeps this to impress the ladies. When I came over, he wanted to do it in the bed of the truck out in the fields. Like that’s romantic. Sex while mosquitoes bite your butt and cows moo in the background. Be still, my beating heart.”