Me: Nah, I’m just giving you shit. What time I should show up on Saturday?
Kit: Well, since this is a bit of an ambush, the earlier the better.
Kit: And I should probably go with you to smooth things over.
Me: I’m not gonna get shot by a gay rancher, am I?
Kit: Trip is bisexual.
Kit: And he wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Me: Then I’m happy to go see him. Can you give me Sam’s number so we can make a plan?
Kit sent over the number, and then said nothing else. No goodbye, nohave a good day. It didn’t feel rude, though, merely efficient. Something I liked a lot about him.
Shaking my head, I cleared my mind of any sneaky little daydreams of Kit ever truly doing something about the energy between us, then pulled up Sam Goodnight’s information.
Me: Hi there, this is Skylar Whitmore. Kit Baker gave me your number and said I would be plotting with you to work on your husband’s shoulder tomorrow.
The three little dots started jumping immediately.
Sam: Oh my God, yes. THANK YOU. Trip is being so bullheaded about his shoulder.
Me: I’m new to the area, but I’m already picking up a theme out in these here hills.
Sam: One of our dearest friends is a rodeo champion who knows a thing or two aboutfucked up shoulders . . . and he still won’t go to the doctor unless his husband forces him to.
Me: His husband? There’s another queer couple out here?
Sam: Oh, sweetheart. That doesn’t even scratch the surface. We’ve got queers crawling all over this place. Hope you’re comfy with the rainbow.
Me: Please. This is me at work and me at play.
Me:
Sam: Oooh, I love your style!
Sam: This is me on the ranch and me on a date with hubby.
Sam:
Me: Nice hat. And it’s good to know there’s queer-friendly places out here. Maybe I’ll find me a hot cowboy after all . . .
Sam: . . .
Me: ?
Sam: Sorry, maybe I was misreading things, but isn’t Kit your hot cowboy?
I choked on my own spit, not sure how to take his meaning.
Sam: Did I make it awkward? Are you two not together?
Me: As far as I know, Kit’s straight.
Sam: . . .
Me: . . .
