As they pulled away, windows down, I heard Cassie’s delighted cackle float back on the dust.
“Oh my God, girl. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive. Spill. Everything.”
I stood there, half-naked and wholly wrecked, watching the truck disappear down the road.
It was going to be a long, lonely, handsy night.
WINNIE
Girls night
Pawhuska, Oklahoma
22H
"GIRLS just wanna have fun”
***
Cassie’s place was a sanctuary—a small cottage painted soft blue, smelling like lavender, cinnamon, and a hint of old takeout she pretended wasn’t there. The moment the door shut behind us, the tension from the barn slid off my shoulders. For one night, I wasn’t ranch manager or “Beau’s mystery barrel racer.” I was just Winnie, at my best friend’s house, in soft shorts and borrowed socks.
Cassie tossed her keys and her giant tote onto the counter with a clatter. “Ground rules,” she said, already in full general mode. “One, no talk about manure, fences, or Pops’ never-ending list. Two, no stressing about regionals. Three, we can talk about your feelings for exactly five minutes total. After that, we only talk about his dick and my commitment issues.”
She yanked a tub of cookie dough ice cream from the freezer and handed me a spoon. No bowls—girls’ night was feral.
She flopped onto the patchwork couch and pointed the spoon at me like a mic. “All right, Jameson. Important questions first. Does Beau have a huge dick?”
I almost inhaled a chunk of cookie dough. “Cassie!”
“What?” She grinned, eyes wicked. “I saw you stumble out of that barn looking like you’d seen the face of God. Don’t you dare pretend that man is packing ‘respectable average.’ I require measurements. For science. For my fragile emotional investment.”
I pressed my spoon to my lips, trying not to smile. Failed. “I am not giving you measurements.”
“So yes,” she decided. “Got it. How ‘holy shit’ are we talking? ‘This is fine, I can still walk’ or ‘schedule a chiropractor’?”
I grabbed the nearest throw pillow and buried my face in it. My voice came out muffled. “Through his jeans, Cass. And I still thought, ‘holy shit.’”
She let out a whoop that rattled the picture frames. “Knew it. That much repressed energy had to be attached to serious hardware. And the way he was looking at you at the Spur? That is not ‘respectable average’ behavior. That is ‘I will ruin your life and your pelvis’ energy.”
I peeked over the pillow, laughing. “You’re disgusting.”
“Correct. Now, follow-up. Has the dick been… deployed? Full penetration, balls in play, choir of angels?”
“No!” I threw the pillow at her. “We haven’t… we almost… in the barn… and in the hallway before that. But no actual sex yet.”
“But he’s seen you naked,” she sing-songed.
“Technically towel-naked.”
“Please, that towel was holding on by hope and surface tension.” She leaned forward. “Okay, walk me through the barn. Slow. Use adjectives.”
I felt my face heat, but the wine cooler in my hand and the smell of cinnamon candles made it easier to talk. “He had me pinned against the post. One hand under my shirt. His hands are rough from work now—you can feel every callus—but he was so gentle at first. Then he squeezed my boob and I just… short-circuited. And when he put his hand over my shorts… Cass, I swear, one more minute and I was going to come fully clothed in front of a bale of hay.”
Cassie made a low appreciative sound. “I’m happy for you, but also offended you didn’t FaceTime me so I could applaud live.”
“Yeah, hi, poor connection in the orgasm aisle.”
She snorted. “God, Win. He’s ruining you for the rest of the local dating pool and he hasn’t even gotten his dick out yet. Meanwhile, I’m over here ghosting perfectly decent men because they use too many emojis.”
