“You wanna know what I think?” Mateo asks. When I tell himno, he waves me off. “Well, I’m telling you anyway.”Of course he is. “You know exactly how much Travis hates Henry, so I think you knew, even if only subconsciously, that he wouldn’t dissuade you from this. You knew he’d be on board.”
“That isnottrue,” I argue, knowing full well it is.
“Right,” Mateo mutters. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Travis’s eyes soften around the edges as he looks at me. “I’m not saying go cheat on your man, because trust me, I’m not.”
“Sensing a ‘but’ coming on.”
“But I think you should accept the invite. It sounds like fun, and you deserve a little fun. Then maybe later on, figure out what you truly want with Henry.”
I blow out a breath, rolling my eyes, and feign annoyance. “You guys suck.”
“We will if you ever let us off the phone,” Mateo grumbles, his insinuation about office sex loud and clear. Travis whacks him in the chest again, trying to hide a smile, but I take the hint, and we quickly get off the phone.
Somehow, even if I feel no less confused, I manage to feel a little lighter. Deciding to take his advice, I pull open my phone and respond to Cope’s text, telling him I’d love to come tonight. It only takes a few seconds before a reply comes through that makes me smile like a fucking fool.
Cope: Awesome. Meet me at my place at 5, and we’ll drive over together. ;)
Cope’struck smellsjustlike him, and it’s making me dizzy. Whatever cologne he wears does it for me. We left his house a few minutes ago, and I’m staring out the passenger side window, avoiding looking at him. He looks so fucking hot, there’s no way to do it without drooling all over myself and making it abundantly clear that I’m into him. So, to be safe, I just won’t look.
I’ve never met anybody before who can make tight jeans and a t-shirt look so fucking good, but Cope does. Pair it with the cowboy boots he’s always wearing, and he’s a walking wet dream. When he admitted to me that he doesn’t hook up all that often, I was shocked. For one,look at him. He’s insanely attractive, carries himself with a thick air of confidence, and he’s genuinely nice. Secondly, I’ve seen his rodeo videos…more times now than I’d care to admit out loud. He’s great at what he does, and people go feral for him on social media.
“You okay?” Cope asks, breaking me out of my highly inappropriate thoughts about him in nothing more than his cowboy hat and those chaps he wears when he competes.
My face heats like he can hear my thoughts as I flash him a smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just had a long day with my aunt.”
Concern etches his features. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s a stubborn old bat, is all.” His worry makes my chest tighten. “I think she’s getting back to things too quickly, but she says she’s fine.”
When Aunt Colette started insisting she help with chores again, she shooed Cope away, and said she didn’t need his help, so this is the first time we’ve seen each other in a few days.
“But she’s not in pain?” he asks, eyes straight ahead on the road.
“Nah. Well, at least not that she tells me. I don’t think she’d tell me even if she was, though.”
“Hmm, I wonder who that’s like,” Cope mutters, tossing me a sly look.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I laugh, knowing exactly what he’s insinuating.
“Oh, I don’t know.” He pretends to think for a moment, fingers caressing his chin. “Maybe because you act like you don’t need help, even when you don’t know what the fuck you’redoing, and when you do accept help, you get all huffy and puffy because you’re not the best at it right away.”
Reaching over, I shove his arm. “I do not do that.”
“Riiiight, sure you don’t.”
Cope hangs a right, turning onto a one-lane gravel road. I’m assuming this is the road that leads to where we’re going. Before we left his house, he told me it was his friend, Conrad, who owned the ranch. It was handed down within his family, and he raises bucking bulls—the bulls that are in the rodeo, I guess. We drive for a solid few minutes before he parks in front of a picturesque red barn. It looks like something straight out of a Lifetime movie. There’re already people here mulling about and, suddenly, the nerves I’ve been pretending don’t exist flare to life all over again.
I’m about to meet all of Cope’s closest friends. If they’re anything like him, they’ll be plenty nice and welcoming, but something about wanting his friends to like me weighs heavy. Which is kind of silly. I’m going to be in Copper Lake temporarily, and then probably never see Cope or these people again, so why care what they think of me?
Maybe because you have a ridiculously inappropriate crush on him, dumbass.
As if Cope can sense my unease, he reaches over and grips my thigh, squeezing a few times—as if that helpsat all. “Ready?”
I swallow thickly, tamping down the way his touch radiates throughout my entire body, especially about four inchesupfrom where he’s holding. Nodding and feigning a confidence I don’t feel, I say, “Mmhmm, let’s do this.”
8
