Cope chuckles. “Yeah, no. I’m not really the hook-up type of guy, to be honest.”
Hearing that calms something inside of me. Something that has no business feeling calm. The idea of him hooking up with random people makes my stomach turn.
You have a fucking boyfriend and he’s a straight cowboy from Wyoming, Xander. You shouldn’t fucking care what he does between the sheets.
We finish up what we’re doing, but not before we eat the rest of the muffins he brought. I’m dying for a shower, and as soon as he leaves, I’m taking one. Which I don’t have to wait long, because about twenty minutes later, he’s wiping off his hands on the front of his pants and telling me, “Welp, I gotta hit the gym.” He goes to the gym every single day. It’s insane. “I don’t think I’ll be back this evening. I’m going fishing with a couple of my buddies, but I’ll see you in the morning?”
One thing about having farm animals is you have to do everything you did in the morning in reverse at night.
“You really don’t have to keep coming over here,” I tell him. “I’m sure you got better things to do.”
He pins with me a stare that makes me want to laugh. “Knock that shit off. I don’t mind, and I wouldn’t do something I didn’t want to do anyway.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true, cowboy,” I mutter.
He shrugs, chuckling. “Okay, you’re probably right. But this isn’t one of those times. I like helping you out. We’re friends. And friends help each other.”
Friends. Right.
I nod wordlessly before letting a smile slip through when he jabs me on the arm with his elbow playfully. “I mean it,” he says sternly. “I’ll see you in the morning, city boy.”
“Okay, okay. Have fun fishing. Although that doesn’t sound fun at all.”
“Hater,” Cope calls out over his shoulder as he leaves the yard. I can’t help but watch him go. His long legs. The way his ass looks oddly perfect behind those sweats. The damp strands of hair sitting at his nape, hanging out from under his hat. He’s so fucking good looking.And nice.
Since when am I swoony atnice?
I’m in trouble.
5
XANDER DAWSON
Will you sit down and let me make you some lunch?” I ask with a huff.
Aunt Colette got home from the hospital this afternoon, and she’s being difficult as all hell. She fought with me at the hospital when I tried to take her bags and put them in the trunk for her, then she fought with me when we got home and I tried to take them inside for her, and now she won’t sit down and fucking relax. The doctor said she needs to take it easy for a while, and she’s getting around with crutches, for Christ’s sake. Those can’t be comfortable propped under her arms. You’d think she’d want to give her pits a rest.
“Boy, don’t you tell me what to do. I changed your diapers.”
I roll my eyes where she can’t see me. “Has literally nothing to do with what I’m asking now, Auntie.”
“I can make my own lunch,” she grumbles, wobbling toward the kitchen. Intercepting her, I place my hands on her shoulders, leveling her with a stare.
“Youjusthad hip replacement surgery, and the doctor stressed the importance of taking it easy. I’m here for a reason—to help you.Letme help you.” Her features soften a tad, andI know I’m getting through to her. “Please, go take a seat at the table, and I’ll bring you a plate when I’m done.”
Lips pressed into a thin line, she nods. “Yeah, alright. Thank you.”
My mom and my aunt are two of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. I truly don’t understand where I got my laid-back nature from. In the kitchen, I fix us both turkey and Swiss sandwiches on this French bread I found at the store yesterday, with some sliced cantaloupe and watermelon and chips on the side. I don’t know if she’ll be able to stomach all of that, but I want to give her enough just in case.
Once my aunt went to the hospital, I finally caved and took her up on her offer to borrow her car. Mine’s in the shop, who knows how long that’ll take, and not having a mode of transportation wasn’t logical. I don’t like borrowing stuff from other people or accepting help. I should be able to do it myself.
Hmm…maybe I’m more like my mother and my aunt after all.
After I pour us each a glass of ice water, I bring everything to the table and sit across from her. She thanks me again before we dig in. The bread is so good. It’s fresh, and it’s so soft.
“How have things been going around here?” she asks between bites.
“Great. I’m basically a pro now. Could run this shit in my sleep.” I flash her a smile.
