I don’t know how old she is, but after some of her answers and getting to know her little by little, I’d guess in the twenty-five to thirty range.
Poison Ivy Girl: Yours wasn’t embarrassing! But fine…
She sends a melting-face emoji, and I chuckle.
Poison Ivy Girl: Dancing at sunset in front of headlights. I saw it in a movie once and it looked so sweet and romantic.
Waylon: I love that! And then your favorite music plays on the radio, and if you’re lucky, it starts to rain in the middle of the song.
Poison Ivy Girl: Wait a minute…are you a closet romantic?
I snort.
Waylon: Maybe. But truthfully, it’s been a while since my last girlfriend, so who knows if I even have it in me anymore.
“Dude, pay attention.” Wilder snaps his fingers between my phone screen and my face.
I snap my gaze to his.
Furrowing my brows, I lock my phone. “What?”
“Why’re you so glued to your phone lately?” Landen asks, nudging me before I walk into something. The airport is packed with hundreds of people leaving after the NFR. “Especially at seven in the morning.”
“None of your business.”
He rolls his eyes. “C’mon, I tell you everything, so share with the class.”
“Yeah,” Wilder agrees, though he’s still drunk from the night before, so I doubt he cares.
Wilder and I flew into Vegas three days ago to watch Ellie crush the barrel racing competition. Landen’s been here for nearly two weeks since the event is ten days long, but he’s flyinghome with us since Ellie’s driving the horse trailer back with Noah and Fisher.
Even being away from the ranch for a few days feels foreign. Once we’re back, we’ll be working even longer days to catch up. But it was worth it to see her win the championship and get away from the ranch for a bit.
When the three of us make it to our gate, there’s already a line for boarding.
“It’s a chick, ain’t it?” Wilder continues.
“Technically, it’s a group chat. But there’s one in here who always flirts with me,” I admit, except I leave out the part where we’ve been texting each other separately for weeks. On Friday nights, we stay up and text until one of us passes out. But I’m not adding more fuel to their nosiness by giving them any extra information.
“What kind of group chat?” Landen asks.
“My friend Jake added me to this horse club he’s in. They mostly talk about random shit, horses, and some rodeo stuff.”
“A horseclub? Are you sure that ain’t code for something else…” Wilder taunts, waggling his brows.
I punch his arm and he snickers.
“Sounds suspicious to me…” Landen adds.
I scoff. “Fuck off, it’s not.”
“Do y’all have a code word?” Wilder asks. “Big Donkey Schlong or Monster Horse Dick.”
Landen elbows Wilder, fighting back laughter. He knows he’s purposely annoying me.
“What would you know about big dicks anyway?” I muse, and Landen cracks up.
Wilder puffs out his chest. “I dunno…why don’t you ask your ex-girlfriend? She’s seen it…”
