Love Like Crazy (Friendship Texas, #7)

by Magan Vernon

  She sighed. “Look, I’m just saying the girl likes you. I don’t know exactly what happened in Vegas or if this is all part of some weird plan you have that would explain why you didn’t walk away from there with an annulment, but be careful, okay? Not just with her, but with your own heart as well.”

  I ran a hand over my Mohawk, trying not to think about anything my sister had said. How maybe I didn’t exactly hate the girl, and that could be one of the reasons I didn’t push to start the divorce proceedings. “You’ve been writing way too many romance stories, sis.”

  “And who knows more about relationships than someone who writes it and had her own second-chance romance?” she said with a smile, unlocking the door.

  I said a quick goodbye, forcing the biggest smile even though my mind was a million miles away. Slowly, I got out of the car, sauntering to the girl in my front lawn.

  “Wanna have some lunch before I take you home? Noah’s working, so he won’t be in, but I hope you like dogs,” I said, not waiting for her response as I threw my bag over my shoulder and started toward the front door of the small, two-bedroom brick house.

  She could follow me, or she could stand there, but if I knew the girl like I thought I did, she would come after.

  As soon as I stepped inside my house, I wished I’d cleaned the place. The smell of wet dog hit me once we entered the small living room that was the center of the house.

  As if she knew I was thinking about her, my Staffordshire terrier, Snogs, moaned from where she was sunbathing on my secondhand faux red leather couch.

  “Hey, girl, what a big stretch,” I cooed, plopping my bag down and walking over to the couch where I scratched my fat brown dog’s stomach. She snorted and wagged her tail, thwapping it hard against the sofa.

  “Are you talking baby talk to a dog?” Christy questioned, raising an eyebrow as she slowly entered the room.

  I had respect for most humans, not baby talking or talking down to anyone whether it was a kid or an old homeless man. But dogs were another story, and I admit I was a sucker for animals, especially my girl.

  Snogs rolled over and pounced on the back of the couch, her tail going a mile a minute as she sniffed and then repeatedly snorted as she stared at Christy. Her attention-attack pose.

  I froze, my back stiffening as I readied my hand on her back. The last thing I needed was for her to knock the girl down.

  Christy jumped back slightly. “Is your dog sneezing on me? Does she need allergy medicine?”

  I glared. I loved Snogs more than I loved most people, and anyone who wasn’t a dog person was not someone I wanted to be around. Maybe Brooke was wrong about Christy, and that gave me a sinking feeling in my gut. I couldn’t be with anyone who didn’t love my dog as much as I did. Or at least close to it.

  “That’s just what she does. I’ll make us some lunch and then take you home,” I muttered, turning away and heading to the kitchen behind a paneled wall.

  I opened the fridge to find the fixings for sandwiches. Not really caring if she wanted that or not. But I did decide to ask if she wanted turkey or ham, figuring I wouldn’t be a complete asshole.

  Turning away from the fridge, I stuck my head out of the doorway and stopped with my mouth open and my once anger-searing heart now a puddle of goo.

  For a girl who acted disgusted by my dog, she was just the opposite now. Both of the girls sat on the couch. Snogs was on her back with her head was in Christy’s lap, thwapping her tail back and forth as Christy scratched behind her ears and over her stomach.

  “Are you falling for my dog?” I asked with a smirk, trying to hold back the absolute glee at the sight.

  “What? No? She just demands to be petted, and I couldn’t say no,” she replied quickly, but Snogs made it well known she was the alpha by pawing at Christy’s hand for her to continue petting.

  “Sureeeeee,” I dragged out the word, the smile spreading across my face before I could stop it.

  What could I say? I was a sucker for dogs and girls who liked them.

  “I got her after Brooke moved out. I went into the Royse City shelter after seeing a post about puppies,” I said, taking a seat at the opposite end of the coach to avoid Snogs’ thwapping tail.

  “You’re telling me this dog is a puppy?” She raised her eyebrows.

  I smiled. “Two still counts as a puppy, but she was actually the mama. Everyone wanted one of her puppies, but this girl was left pregnant in a ditch before an old rancher brought her into the shelter where she delivered.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, that’s terrible.”

  I swallowed, remembering the day at the vet’s office. Everyone was waiting to see the puppies, and I could hear Snogs in the next room whimpering. No one would want a two-year-old dog that just had babies. They wanted the cute little things nipping at their heels. I hadn’t even seen her yet and felt a kinship.

  “Yeah. Tell me about it. When I heard that, I knew she was mine. The others could have the puppies, but she came home with me and a big bone from the market that night. Ain’t that right, Snogs?”

  Just hearing her name caused the dog’s tail to go into a full frenzy, so I made sure to give her belly a good scratch.

  “Doesn’t Snogs mean like kissing or something?” I swore Christy’s cheeks tinged pink as her words faded.

  I laughed. “Yeah, I guess. But one of the guys at the shelter named her Pittsnogle after some college basketball player. I couldn’t see myself yelling that, so I shortened it. I think it suits her.”

  Christy nodded. “It does.”

  I swallowed, wondering what kind of can of worms I was opening before I spoke, but I did it anyway. “She likes it when I cook her chicken, so if you wanted, I could cook some up in the air fryer for all of us.”

  “You cook with an air fryer? Scratch that. You cook at all? And for the dog?” she asked, shaking her head, her eyes still wide.

  “Your husband’s full of surprises. I’m like a goddamn unicorn. The magical man who can cook, clean, and pull off a Mohawk with cowboy boots.”

  She glared. “I don’t know which one of those things to address first, but you know we’re going to need to get this divorce thing figured out.”

  I nodded, trying to ignore the pang in my gut when she said the D word.

  “Yeah. After lunch.”

  Chapter 8

  Christy

  Walking down the Strip in a little white dress, I should have felt some embarrassment.

  But instead, all I could focus on was Clay’s hand on mine. How could they be so rough and warm yet smooth at the same time? I wanted to put my cheek in his hands and just stay there forever.

  “I’m a unicorn. That’s why.”

  “What?” I asked, looking up to meet his minty green eyes.

  “You asked how my hands are so rough yet smooth. Or well, you babbled it. It’s because I’m obviously a unicorn.”

  I laughed, standing on my tiptoes to run my fingers over the shaved edges of his hair where his scalp met the two-inch-long bright blond Mohawk. It was so stiff, and the hair next to it soft like a baby chick. I could have sat there all day just running my fingers along his scalp. And possibly other places. “And is this your horn?”

  “If you’re gonna get handsy, I’ve got a real horn for you.” He grinned, and my gaze went from his hair to the definite bulge in his pants.

  He laughed even harder. “Damn, are you that horny right now? Pun intended. We can skip this wedding and get right to the honeymoon if that’s the case.”

  I shook my head. My brain was fuzzy, but I focused on the one thing I was sure I needed to do. “No. You’re putting a ring on this finger before any unicorn riding happens.”

  He tilted his head back, a low groan coming from deep in his throat. “You’re a tease, you know that?”

  “Never been called that, actually. Plenty of other things but never a tease,” I blurted, wishing my mind came with a filter, but right now, it was jumbled in a foggy haze.
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  “Fuck what everyone else thinks. You’re a unicorn too. A unicorn in a field of horses.”

  I laughed, leaning against his shoulder and taking in his earthy scent. How did this man smell so good? And feel good? And was it always like this? I just never noticed because I was ignoring my feelings and trying to hate him. “How is that?”

  He squeezed my hand. “Because all those other bitches in Friendship are nothing like you. All the same country girls who either want to stay in Friendship forever and have babies or leave the town and bad-mouth it. You’re the girl who left, came back, and can say ‘I do what I want.’”

  “Yeah, but those girls are also all smooth-skinned and not mixed. You know what it’s like growing up with all those girls? I had to become a bitch just to survive the grade school taunting for being different and my parents’ strict rules. Survival mode kicked in for this unicorn.” Everything poured out of me that I never said out loud to anyone, and I felt tears spring to my eyes.

  Fuck. I never cried and especially not in front of a guy like Clay.

  He stopped and whirled me around before his arms encircled my waist. He scooped me up as if I was as light as a feather and set me on the railing.

  He leaned over, his face a whisper from mine before his lips brushed each tear from my cheeks. I shivered in delight, my body warming from his touch. “Don’t ever let those bitches make you cry or define you.”

  “Hell, I’ve been the outcast unicorn my entire life. I always sucked in school, so I figured the pothead persona made sense. Couldn’t get into college, so the military man came next. When a stupid accident took that, I went to the ranch where I met you.”

  He intertwined our hands in the small space between us. “You challenge me and take it when I give it back, always coming in for more. We’re the goddamned unicorns of Friendship, Texas. I’m buzzed as hell right now, but I can tell you that I’m happy we’re here. I’m happy we’re together. Whatever this means when we sober up.”

  With his words sizzling my heart, I did the only thing there was left to do and pressed my lips to his. Ready to take this journey with him as well, wherever it led.

  Chapter 9

  Clay

  Christy watched as I pulled a bag of frozen chicken strips out of the freezer and seasoned them before putting them in the air fryer as though it was the most exciting thing in the world. She sat at the other end of the small breakfast bar, her eyes fixed on my hands.

  “You’re looking at me like I’m doing this all wrong, as usual, so if you have a better way to do it, I’m all ears,” I grumbled.

  She shook her head. “No. It’s just, I’ve never actually seen a man cook for himself or his dog.”

  She nodded to my side where Snogs sat on the peeling linoleum floor, looking up at me and slowly licking her lips.

  “You’ve been hanging out with the wrong type of guys then.”

  She let out a breath. “Yeah, a lot of people would say that about my dad. He doesn’t do shit around the house, saying he’s always tired from a long day at work, though Mom does just about as much as he does.”

  She then swallowed hard as I flitted my gaze to hers. “I mean, not that I’m talking bad about my parents or anything.”

  I smiled slightly, a familiar warmth of kinship I hadn’t felt with anyone but Brooke in a long time rising to my chest. “All our parents can be assholes. It’s okay to admit it.”

  “Yeah, but it’s different for boys, or at least from what I’ve seen. Maybe it’s just different for you. I don’t see your mom coming over and telling you to shave off your Mohawk.” She circled her hand above her head.

  “I’m also a grown ass man who’s been to Afghanistan and back. Twice.”

  Christy’s face fell, and I knew I said the wrong thing if the rapid beating of my heart to make it right was any indication.

  “Though that doesn’t stop my mom from giving me shit about the hair and tattoos. She even made me change my hair color from blue to blond for my dad’s funeral.”

  She laughed slightly. “Because that’s a big change.”

  “Hey, for her it was. But honestly, I think my parents have always loved me even though I scare the shit out of them. You scare your parents in a different way.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

  I pulled the chicken out of the fryer, plated them, and then cut Snogs’ piece into small bites as I spoke. “It means that my mom’s afraid I’m going to snap and go balls out crazy on everyone one day. Your parents are more afraid that you’ll have a future where you end up pregnant or married to some Mohawked loser after a night of debauchery in Vegas.”

  “They didn’t prevent that one very well, did they?” she muttered.

  I set Snogs’ plate on the floor for her, then grabbed some coleslaw from the fridge. After scooping some on our plates, I added a fork and then slid her plate to her side of the counter. I tried to ignore the pang in my chest at her agreeing with my words.

  “They really do want what’s best for us. Our parents, that is. Even though they don’t always show it. But no matter how hard we try, sometimes we end up fuckups anyway.”

  She poked at her chicken with her fork. “Why do you think that about yourself?”

  The little flicker of hope I once had was now burning. “I believe you’re the one who referred to me as the loser living at my mom’s house, which prompted me to use my veteran status to get a home loan finally.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Well, I guess I spoke too soon on that one since now I’m the one staying at my parents’ place.”

  I slowly looked up from my plate, staring at the girl with the dark brown eyes who wouldn’t even glance in my direction. I knew there was something more to us, which was why I pushed more than I probably should have. “Why don’t you go back to school? Back to that fancy apartment or sorority house?”

  She sighed, blowing air out of her nose. “College wasn’t all I thought it would be. It turns out if you have enough money in a small town, you can be Queen Bee, but none of that means anything in college, and the people I thought were my friends weren’t. Didn’t take long for people to turn on me or ignore me completely, which was even worse.”

  She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You know what my parents’ solution was when I told them I didn’t want to live in the sorority house and wanted to take a break because I had no idea what I was doing with my life?”

  I shook my head, my stomach churning, yet I hung on her every word. “No. I don’t.”

  “Dad wrote a big check to my sorority as a ‘Quinn Legacy donation’ and then put a down payment on an apartment for me off campus. He said maybe living away from the other girls would help me clear my head, but really, it just made the loneliness worse.”

  She stopped and shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I have to sound pathetic.”

  Without thinking, I put my hand on hers. My large, rough hand covered all her fingers. That was when her eyes finally met mine, and I had to swallow the lump buried in my throat. “Christy, you are anything but pathetic. You’ve obviously just been hanging out with a bunch of people who don’t appreciate you and aren’t helping you figure out who you really are and want to be. You don’t need those bitches or even school if that’s not what you want. You do what makes you happy.”

  She bit her lip, and my dick strained against my boxers.

  Not now, boy. Stay down.

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered.

  I shook my head, feeling my heart beat faster as I finally unlocked the things I’d been holding in for what seemed like forever. “It’s not. I wish it was, but going through everything I did these past two years has forced me to do what I can to try to see the bright side. Think I wanted to leave the military? Think I don’t fucking think about the guys who weren’t so lucky when their vehicles were hit? Or hell, my own dad, for that matter. One day, he’s healthy, and the next, boom, he’s gone.”


  That might have been an understatement. But that was what it felt like. An aneurysm was a silent, deadly killer that took us all by surprise.

  I ran my fingers along the bridge of her knuckles, watching her entire body shiver in response. “I never wanted to be a manager at Q Ranch. Hell, I never knew what I wanted to do with my life, so I joined the Army. But working there has been what I needed to clear my head. It’s what helped me finally stop doing everything I thought I was supposed to be doing and get lost. Whether that means I’m out in the field making sure the horses haven’t shit where they’re not supposed to or setting up the bar for a party. It sounds nuts, but the little things like that are what keep me grounded.”

  “You really would be a good fit to run the ranch, you know?” she said softly.

  I swallowed hard, a twinge of guilt panging in my chest. This poor girl was going through enough shit with her family, and now she had to deal with being married to me after one of my friends got her stoned in Vegas.

  Before I could voice any of this, her phone rang, and she pulled her hand away from mine to dig into her pocket. Her eyes widened as she put her phone to her ear. “Hi, Daddy. Sorry, I ended up getting a ride from Clay’s sister and stopped for lunch. I’ll be home soon, though. Okay. Yeah. Love you.”

  She hung up and let out a slow breath of air.

  “Need me to give you a ride or do you want me to have Brooke come back?”

  She didn’t answer, looking down at the table, and I knew what she was thinking. That rolling up to the ranch with me in my beat-up truck was the last thing she wanted even though we just had what I thought was a moment together.

  So, I answered for her and nodded. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I try not to stare at the quartz ring on Christy’s left finger. The one she still hadn’t taken off. “I’ll text Brooke.”

  Chapter 10

  Christy

  “The colors are so pretty.”

  I stared at the Bellagio fountain show in the middle of hordes of other people, but my focus was on the Mohawk cowboy’s arm around my waist.