Page 18 of Ride Me Cowboy
I shake my head. I really shouldn’t. “Hey, Els,” I say, my own voice trembling now. Not with grief, but with an explosion of feelings like fear and frustration and anger. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Call me soon, okay?” she pleads.
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I will.”
“I love you, Beth. We’re going to get through this, I promise.”
I bite down into my lip and disconnect the call, not wanting to tell her that I’m through the worst of it. Not wanting to have to keep lying about what Christopher’s death meant to me. I sit back in my seat, eyes closed, until the slamming sound of a car door startles me, and I straighten, looking around just in time to catch Cole jumping out of his truck right as another guy does the same thing. They swagger into The Silver Spur, side by side, talking intently, and then Cole laughs, tilting his head back and making the whole world shine with the force of that one single, simple motion.
Everything grinds to a halt.
Every cell in my body, every piece of me.
I came here to escape New York, but maybe what I really wanted was to escape myself as well. To get away from the timid, reserved woman I’ve grown into. To really, finally get out from under Christopher’s shadow.
Because the thing is, he died, and I thought that made me free, but the way he’s still dictating my choices, making me afraid of my own shadow, shows that he’s controlling me, still. And I’m about done with that.
My pulse begins to thunder, and I shift in my seat, staring straight ahead now, wondering: do I really have what it takes to be someone else?
Cole
‘Round these parts, A wolf whistle don’t mean squat, and usually, it’s not something I’d pay any mind. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even hear it above the din of the Silver Spur’s Friday night crowd. But this wolf whistle comes from right beside me, as Beau lifts his fingers to his lips and lets the sound rip across the room. I look at him first, prepared to call him a jackass, but then follow the direction of his gaze and see the last thing I’d expected: Beth Tasker walking in with her long blonde hair out and wavy around her face, wearing skintight black pants, a floaty singlet top and a high heels.
All the blood, and I mean every last drop, drains out of my face and fills another part of my body. My mouth goes dry.
And the lie I’ve been telling myself ever since last night in the office, when I stood so close I could almost taste her perfume, when I just wanted to reach out and ball her blonde hair into a fist and draw her face to mine, to kiss her until we both saw stars, the lie I’ve been telling myself that I’m just lonely, that any other beautiful woman would make me feel the same thing, bursts in my face.
At Beau’s holler, her cheeks flush and she glances around, clearly embarrassed by my buffoon of a brother’s showing off.
“Quit it,” I snap, standing on autopilot as she approaches our table. My stomach loops with something like a protective pang for her, because she looks so dang nervous, like she could turn and run at any point, like that mustang we once had that never could be broke, no matter what.
“Just a friendly greeting,” Beau contradicts, echoing my gesture and standing. “Ma’am,” he grins at Beth, taking it one step further and moving closer to her so he can hold back a chair. I ignore the unmistakable looping of disappointment that I didn’t get there first.
“Oh, thanks,” she says, biting into her full lower lip. A lip that made it damn hard to sleep last night, as I kept imagining her dragging it over my body.Allover my body. I curse inwardly, staring at her longer and harder than is polite, before sitting my ass back down and reaching for my beer.
“I…hope it’s still okay that I came here,” she says, addressing me, across the table that’s littered with drinks in various states of being consumed, and a bowl of half-eaten nachos.
Wise up, asshat. You’re making her feel even more awkward.
“Sure it is, honey,” Beau beats me to it—again. Where women are concerned, he has the timing of a Swiss clock and the balls of a prize bull. “Ain’t nothing but a few drinks with friends.”
“I just—I thought—I haven’t eaten, and Cole said?—,”
“I’ll grab you a menu,” I offer, standing up again, before remembering the relocation of my blood and throwing a grateful glance at my pants to confirm that things have returned—more or less—to normal. Jesus. I stride away quickly though, toward the bar, dropping my head once I get there and staring at the counter. It’s topped in glass and underneath, there are dozens and dozens of photos, taken over the years, of locals and regulars. I spot my dad and let my eyes rest there a moment. This picture of him usually grounds me, but not tonight. Truth is, I don’t know what he’d say to me right now. Maybe I didn’t know my old man like I thought I did? I sure as shit had no ideahe was hiding the ranch’s desperate financial situation from me the way he was.
“What’ll it be, Cole?” Randy approaches, resting his elbows on the bar opposite.
“Just a couple of menus,” I mutter. And then, realizing I should have offered Beth a drink, I glance at the fridges behind him. Does she drink? She had a beer, that night she made mac and cheese. But would she prefer wine? Should I go and ask her what she wants?Christ, just grow a pair and get the lady something cold.
“I’ll take a glass of white wine as well.”
“Chardonnay?”
I glance at the multiple labels in the fridge and nod, hoping she likes it. But if not, I’ll grab her something else. This is not a life-or-death situation.
When I return to the table, Beth is talking to Caleb, and I’m glad, because unlike Beau, he can string a few words together without having it devolve into a slew of cheesy pick-up lines. Mind you, you can’t argue with Beau’s charm, because I don’t remember the last time he wasn’t running around with someone. And you might think that’d be problematic in a small town like Goodnight, but it’s a testament to his easy-going nature that I’ve never heard of any broken hearts or angry exes.
I place the glass of wine in front of Beth, then a menu, and when she glances up at me and our eyes lock, I feel it again. Just like I did in the office. A surge of something. A shot of adrenalin that pumps through my whole body, from the tips of my toes, to my belly, and out to my fingers and scalp, like the first time I got up on a bull and felt the rush of power as it bucked me. It’s anawareness of my own vitality, like a forcible reminder that I’m here and alive, that there’s a purpose to being on this earth.
