“Only if you’re drinking with me,” she says. It’s been a few years since I’ve done this, and apparently I’m way out of practice.
“Right. Sure. I can do that,” I say. She runs off to her group of friends to deliver the lemon drops, letting me know she’ll be back. I order us another round of whiskey sours, hoping she drinks that. I’m not creative enough to think up anything else at the moment. It’s been, shit, a good amount of years since I’ve done anything like this.
She walks back over to a table full of girls about her age and one guy. I look over just in time to see them all tip back their shots, Katie the first one. If it fazes her at all, she doesn’t show it. First drink, my ass.
She whispers something to her dark haired friend and they both look over at me before I can snap my head back to the drink I’ve been twirling in my hands. There’s no way they didn’t see me looking. I turn back to the bar with a deep sigh. I’m not made for this.
What am I doing? I’m a twenty-eight-year-old rancher from Wyoming who hasn’t been on a first date in ten years. She’s here with her friends for her twenty-first birthday. The last thing she needs is some older guy flirting with her. I shake my head, adjusting my ball cap.
Parker was wrong, I am definitely not ready for this. I’ll just give her this one drink for her birthday, and go back to the hotel. Download that taxi app thing Parker has. No reason to ruin his one night out in the city.
I feel around for my phone in my pockets before remembering I didn’t have it when I left the hotel room.
Shit. I’m screwed.
Katie startles me as she bounces back down onto the barstool next to me. “Alright, I’m ready, Autry. What are we drinking?” All thoughts of leaving fly out of my brain once I’m in her presence again. She called me Autry.
“Well, Mac,” I smile, “Figured I’d see if you’re a real cowgirl. Ordered a couple of whiskeys.” I nod to her legs, “I like your boots.”
“Thanks,” she laughs, grabbing her glass, “My best friend lives on a dude ranch. We ride a lot. I guess I’m just used to wearing them now.” I try not to watch her throat as her head tips back when she takes her first sip. “So what do you do?” she asks.
I clear my throat, running through any possible information about myself. It’s hard to focus when my heart is racing like this. “I’m a cattle rancher up in Wyoming. My ranch hand and I are here for a cattle auction.”
“Ah. One night only?” she giggles. Her laugh is like wind chimes in a summer breeze.
“Yep, just tonight. What about you?”
“Same. We just came to the city for my birthday. I live up in a small town called Juniper Ridge just barely inside of Idaho,” she explains, taking another drink. Her cheeks turn more pink with every sip. I feel my leg start bouncing under my stool.
“I think I’ve been through there,” I say, not wanting the conversation to end, “It’s pretty.”
In the next hour I find out she’s here with her best friend, who’s name is Hazel, and a few others from their small town. She just graduated college early, and started running her family’s vacation rental properties around Juniper Ridge’s Bear Lake. She loves it and wants to expand one day.
I tell her a bit about my family’s ranch. It’s an easy conversation, like we’ve known each other a while.
I can’t help but stare at her. The way she gets so animated when she talks, throwing her arms all over the place. How the sparkle in her eyes glows brighter when she talks about her town and her friends. The slight spackling of freckles trailing across her cheeks. Her giggles when I order us another round.
She’s like a magnet. I can’t pull away, just keep moving in closer and closer.
“You know,” she slurs, “Historically, I don’t date cowboys. Not my type. Too flighty, always covered in sweat and dust,” she makes a sort of ‘ick’ face before continuing. “But you… you’re different. You’re all smiley and kind and funny. And you smell like a cedar chest. I like you, Autry.” She jabs her pointer finger into my chest with each point she makes.
“I like you too, Mac,” I nod. She likes me? Why?
Two whiskey sours in, we are laughing hysterically at a joke I can’t remember and my arm is tingling where her hand rests. I’ve forgotten about our age difference completely. I’ve forgotten we are strangers. I take her by the hand and whisk her away from the bar, over to where the band is playing.
Three whiskey sours in, we are dancing with her friends to a song I’ve never heard before, lights blurring around us. Her hands are around my neck and I can count the stars in her eyes. The warmth from her body radiates into mine when we are this close. She’s like the sun. Warm and comfortable and keeping me close with a gravitational pull.
Four whiskey sours in, her soft lips finally meet mine and I feel the ember in my chest grow into a flame. I never want her to let go. Her fingers scratch on my five o’clock shadow, sending a shiver down my spine. I haven’t kissed very many girls in my life, but I already know this is the best kiss I’ve ever had.
After that, I just have pieces of memories, mixed with heightened emotions. Leaving with her. Kissing her forehead as we walk down the city sidewalk through the melody of her giggles. Trying way too hard to unlock her hotel room door, and probably waking up the whole floor in the process. Ridiculously thin dress straps falling down her shoulders. Soft cotton sheets around us with nothing in between us. Hearing her little gasps in the dark.
I want to brand them into my memory.
Feeling my heart beating so hard I’m sure she can hear it. The flame in my chest igniting into a burning fire I’ve never felt before.
When I wake up the next morning in a bed that is not mine, sunshine pouring in through the window, head pounding, ears ringing, it takes me a few minutes to realize where I am. Memories come back in patches, and I can’t help the grin that spreads along my face. I reach over to the other side of the bed to touch her again. I’m met with an empty pile of sheets. I panic, shooting up in the bed, cracking my eyes open to look around.
The room is completely empty. The fire in my chest extinguishes into a pile of smoking coals.
