After I kick my shoes off by the door, I walk inside, and find Aunt Colette standing in the living room, a shit-eating grin on her face. “You’re welcome.”
“I hate you,” I grumble, but we both know I’m full of shit because as soon as I brush past her, a huge smile takes over my face.
“You better text him and tell him you can go,” she calls out after me.
It takes me an entire shower and approximately twenty minutes of sitting on the edge of my bed, talking myself into it, before I finally pull out my phone and send the text.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
17
COPE MURPHY
Shania Twain’sAny Man of Mineblasts from the subwoofer near the back of the parking lot as a black Honda Civic pulls up. Shooter’s got a navy-blue bandana tied around his neck, a pair of too-short matching athletic shorts on, and he lost his white t-shirt about an hour ago after Sterling drenched him with the hose. Which I’m beginning to suspect was on purpose, given the way Sterling’s been making googly eyes at Shooter ever since.
Powder Ridge Arena, the arena we all train at, and the place where Copper Lake hosts rodeo events, is holding a car wash fundraiser this afternoon for the rodeo club at the local high school. It’s an annual event, and it’s usually held in the spring before we leave for rodeo season, but this year, the arena parking lot was getting repaved so we couldn’t.
It’s an unusually warm and dry day for early December, and that’s the only reason this damn car wash is acceptable. Well, that, and the fact that the arena has a bunch of industrial grade heaters blowing on us. The water is still freezing, though. My nipples are so hard, I’m surprised they haven’t fallen off.Yet, here’s Shooter, willingly getting soaking wet to turn his boyfriend on. I’m not even surprised.
The driver of the Civic rolls his window down. Sterling goes over the cost and takes payment before we begin washing. I spray the car with the hose while Shooter makes a show of dunking the large sponge in the bucket of soapy water and wringing it out—but not before letting some run down his bare chest. I can’t even count how many cars we’ve washed so far in the few hours we’ve been here. It seems like everybody in town is in this parking lot.
Once we’re finished cleaning the Honda, he drives toward the other side of the parking lot to pick up a complimentary glass of lemonade and some cookies from Daisy and Jessie, our two barrel racers. We’ve got the system down pat at this point, working this car wash like a well-oiled machine. By the time the next car pulls up, I’m so in the zone with what I gotta do, I don’t even notice who it is that’s pulled up until I hear Shooter holler my name.
“Copey!” When my eyes lift to meet his, he’s got a roaring smile on his face. “Looks like your cute little boy next door came to get his car washed.”
I glance down, taking in the Subaru that belongs to his aunt before looking through the windshield, gaze locking with Xander’s bright blues. A wide grin splits my face as I round the hood. “Hey. Fancy seeing you here,” I say, tossing him a wink.
“Cowboy Car Wash,” he drawls with a chuckle. “Really?”
“Catchy, don’t you think?” I shrug. “I’m glad you came.”
Things between Xander and I have always felt easy, but it feels like ever since finding out he broke up with Henry, any nerves I’d been experiencing, any guilt I held on to for feeling a way I shouldn’t, have completely dissipated.
“Yeah, well, when you asked me to meet you here, you conveniently left out the wet t-shirt car wash going on.” Xandershamelessly rakes his gaze down my body, and it feels good having his eyes on me. Knowing he’s into me too.
“Thought it’d make for a nice surprise.” Running a hand down the front of my soaked and nearly see-through t-shirt, I add brazenly while waggling my brows, “You like?”
Xander’s cheeks pinken as he allows his eyes to quickly roam down the front of my abdomen again before coming back up to my face. Clearing his throat, he nods. “I definitely like.”
“Knew you would.”
“Okay, listen up Cowboy Casanova,” Shooter cuts in, slapping a cold, wet hand on my shoulder. “While I love watching you flirt with your hottie neighbor, the line is getting longer, so can we get on with the show?”
Xander sniggers softly, eyes alternating between me and Shooter. “How much?” he asks, gaze settling on me.
I flash him a toothy grin. “It’s on the house.”
“Uh, it very much isnoton the house,” Shooter blurts out behind me. His presence is suddenly annoying me, but it only makes Xander laugh harder. “This is for the high school’s rodeo club. That’ll be ten bucks, Xan-man. Will that be cash or card?”
Shooter all but shoves me out of the way as he takes the money from Xander, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to smack the shit out of Shooter as much as I do right now. An idea coming to mind, I grin as I twist up the wet rag in my hand before snapping at Shooter’s shirtless back.
He jumps up and spins around, eyes narrowed on me. “Ow, you cocksucker,” he grunts. “The fuck was that for?”
I lift my hands, shrugging innocently as I take a step back. He flips me off before returning his attention to Xander. Once he’s finished giving him his change, Shooter steals the hose from my grip, spraying the Subaru. Scowling at him, I reach into the bucket and grab the sponge, wringing it out. Before I evenhave a chance to wash anything, Shooter turns the hose on me, drenching me from head to toe in three seconds flat.
“What the fuck, man?” I balk at him.
Smug look on his face, he tilts his head toward Xander. “Thank me later.”
