THE SUN SANK LOWER IN the western horizon but was still bright enough to cast a sheen over the ranch that accentuated the heat rays billowing up from the gravel. André peered out the window and watched Shane stroll into the barn after Gemma.

How often did the two of them spar together? Was their connection as innocent as that, or was there more between them? Was kickboxing class just an excuse for a country tryst?

The thought of the two of them literally rolling around in the hay made his jaw tighten. Or maybe the toolbox had her pinned against a stall, holding her up with those massive arms as he thrust home.

André swore under his breath. He shoved the back door open, ignoring Stefano’s questioning glare, and tromped off to the barn. No way in hell he’d let Toolbox defoul her under his nose, on Reyna’s turf.

The heat from the gravel permeated into his boots as he crunched his way to the open barn.

Gemma’s half-growling laugh echoed inside, and André stopped at the doors and listened. Toolbox could make her happy. He had an asshole of a father, but knew how to make her smile. Mierda!

André peeked inside and saw her pouring feed for the horses, two dimples still firmly in place. Shane stood beside her holding two pails, his biceps bulging through his designer poplin shirt. Gemma brushed the curls out of her eyes and fanned herself. Shane set down the pails with a thunk, and his sausage fingers pulled her hair over her shoulder. He massaged her neck, and then trailed across her collarbone. His face only a mere six inches from her delectable skin. André clenched his fists.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he called coolly, strolling into the barn with his hands in his pockets. Covering emotion with calm indifference was one of his fortes.

The two looked up at him. Shane’s face was emotionless, but Gemma looked confused. Not angry or flushed as André expected.

“A rather unsanitary setting for necking.”

Shane scoffed. “You need a sterile hospital room to be romantic?”

Gemma glanced at Shane and her brow furrowed. “Romantic?”

André smirked. “Certainly something more appropriate for a woman like Gemma than a horse pissing right next to you.”

Sniper had just finished his business in the stall beside them. The rancid smell soon drove all of them outside. André covered his snicker and kept his victorious smile in place as he followed behind them, ambling to the fence line.

“Want to go back inside?” Shane asked as Gemma sat on top of the rail.

“Hell no,” she replied, gazing out at the field. “I’ve suffered enough with your dad at dinner.”

Shane sighed and shot an irritated glance at André who leaned against a post. Blondie-boy climbed the railing and sat beside her. The beam bent and creaked under his weight.

“I know my dad’s an ass sometimes—mainly when he drinks—and never knows when to shut the hell up. But he means well. He thinks highly of you.”

Gemma shifted her body away from him. “Like hell he does. Good Bible-belt folk my ass. I don’t have to sit there and take judgment from him, Shane. I know my history. I don’t need it summarized like a damn Lifetime movie every time he sees me.”

Her gaze darted to André, and for a sliver of a second, regret and self-doubt flashed between them. All his anger evaporated as he studied her. This was a woman who’d never doubted herself in the few days he’d known her. Hell, her pride was almost a deterrent for an emotional connection. But this topic—or person—made her question herself.

“To whatever he was referring,” André interrupted. “It said more of his lack of character than yours.” He leaned against the fence, letting his shoulder brush against Gemma’s calf. She didn’t move away.

“What are you doing here, Miguel?” Shane glared at him.

“Leave him alone.” Gemma elbowed the sack of muscles in arm. “He’s the only one here talking sense. And what is with your hair?”

Shane blanched, running his fingers through his slicked-back strands. “I thought you’d like it.”

“It looks ridiculous on you.”

“I did it for you.”

“You wanna do something for me? Be yourself.”

A voice called from the house, and they all turned.

“Gemma? Honey, can you help me for a moment?” Reyna shouted.

Gemma sighed—is that relief?—and swung her legs over the beam. “If it’s to help that horrible man, I’d rather puke all over him,” she murmured under breath.

“Wait,” Shane caught her arm. When she looked at him, he leaned in with an awkward grip on the beam and kissed her. His lips thoroughly covered her small mouth like a dam stifling a creek.

André could taste the vomit at the bottom if his throat. He looked away and bit his tongue, hard. The kiss broke apart—lip smacking was unmistakable—and Gemma jumped from the railing.

The woman has far too much energy to have just had her breath stolen. No panting or stumbling from dizzy passion. Pathetic kiss. Though he couldn’t see if she blushed or even smiled as she disappeared into the house.

“Is this a more romantic setting for your high n’ mighty standards?” Shane grinned.

“Are you seeking my approval, or hers?”

The grin disappeared.

“If it was romantic enough for her, why is she walking away?” André asked.

Shane growled and jumped down from the fence. He was a good four inches taller than André, but he refused to step back as Toolbox towered over him.

“Look, I don’t like you. You look at her like she’s a T-bone steak. I’ve known Gemma for years. She’s a simple country girl who deserves a country boy. And you’re no cowboy.”

“And you are? You and your father know nothing of horses, yet you believe a hat, boots and southern twaang are enough to fit the stereotype.”

Shane’s green eyes flashed, and the timber of his voice lowered. “I don’t know what you and Stefano are up to. For all I know, you’re border jumpers using Reyna as a meal ticket. Or a hideout. Either way, you’re no good for her. I can smell trouble on you.”

“What are you, a dog?”

“Stay away from her,” he snarled.

“If she’s so right for you, cowboy, why are threats your only companion after your first kiss?”

The man flustered and raked his hand through his sandy hair. “That wasn’t our first kiss.”

“Please.” André rolled his eyes and pushed off from the fence. He adjusted his tie. “My only question is why, after waiting so long to kiss her, you chose such a special moment to be in front of another man?”

As if a light bulb clicked on his head, Shane scowled after where Gemma had escaped into the house.

“Afraid she’d kick you in the sack?”

He glared at André again. “You have no idea how strong that woman is.”

“On the contrary. We’ve already tussled once.” His abs were still sore from her earlier defensive moves.

Shane snarled and grabbed André’s lapels in his meaty fists. The ground fell from under his feet and he was shoved against a fence post. “You son of a—”

“Enough!”

Gemma stood at the bottom of the stairs like a Palladian goddess. Fiery eyes and five feet of empowered damnation casting an aura of judgment.

God, she’s beautiful.

“It’s time for you to go home, Shane.”

“But, I—”

“Now.”