A light rap of knuckles had him turning toward the door. Royce was leaning against the frame, smirking.
“So you love the little cowgirl, don’t you?” He rolled his eyes.
Wes shrugged. “No point in denying it.”
Royce pushed away from the door frame and walked over to the bed and knelt down.
“Well that’s good to hear, because I had a friendly little bet with Callie about whether you did in fact love her. I won, you see, because I knew you loved her. She didn’t believe me.”
Wes stiffened. “A bet with Callie?” He knew Royce too well, and his bets often had unorthodox payments. “What were the terms?”
His friend slid something out from under the bed, a canvas covered with cloth. He carried it over to an easel and set it up.
“Because I won, she was supposed to give you this. I figured she m
