We sit, and the stench from his boots makes me gag. “Yeah, we did, but it was a bit difficult. That calf did not want to come out.”
He spits into the cup before taking a drink of his coffee. Totally gross. I now understand why this detail rarely comes up in the cowboy romances I read. It’s disgusting to see the brownish-black spit dribble into the cup.
“Do you work on a ranch?”
“I own it.”
He looks offended, and I almost hold my hands up in surrender. “Sorry, I was just… It must be a lot of hard work.”
“Well, I don’t have office hands, that’s for sure. Or nice, clean clothes like the coffee man back there.”
“So… yes.”
His nose crinkles. “My store-bought coffee grounds taste better than this burned water. I can’t believe it cost me seven dollars.”
“You, uh, picked the place to meet,” I remind him. “Did you want to go somewhere else?”
“No, this is fine. I figured a city girl like you would call this place your second home.”
“It’s my first time here, actually. I think the lattes are good.”
Preston rolls his eyes, and I can’t quite make out if they’re hazel or light brown. Either way, they’re dull. “Hiding the taste of coffee. Probably not a bad idea. I bet you like mixed drinks, too. Not straight whiskey.”
“Oh, I like certain whiskeys straight. Depends on the brand—”
“My buddy makes his own whiskey. Better than the most expensive stuff on the shelves.”
I’m getting the feeling he thinks anything he has is better than whatever we’re consuming.
“I should’ve brought you some. Didn’t peg you for a whiskey girl.”
You could’ve showered. I would’ve been fine with that. Or at least changed your boots.“Do you have horses?”
He laughs, a bit of brown spit dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. “Oh, you’re serious?”
“Yes?”
“I have a lot of horses. We need them to herd the cattle. I would’ve thought you’d know a little about ranching from that showYellowstoneeveryone’s always talking about.”
I shake my head. “Never got into it. The first episode where Kevin Costner’s character has to shoot a horse kind of turned me off.”
“It’s never easy, but it’s merciful. Some injuries are just impossible for them to recover from.”
He goes into graphic detail about helping birth a calf, and I realize his jeans are stained with remnants of birth. Mixed with the cow shit on his boots, I don’t even want to think about hugging him goodbye.
“How about dinner tomorrow?” Preston asks after talking at me for at least thirty minutes about his life on the ranch.
I’ve been thinking about a project I have to focus on at work tomorrow and almost miss the question. “Dinner?”
“I clean up nice, I promise. I just didn’t want to stand you up, so I came like this. There’s a great steakhouse about twenty minutes away. What do you say?”
I feel cornered. As much as I don’t want to, saying no feels rude. I’d expected this conversation to happen on the app where I could carefully craft my decline. But he didn’t cancel, and he’s not the worst date I’ve had so far.
The bar is set pretty low, here.
“Uh, sure. Dinner sounds… good. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t attempt to hug me, seemingly aware of his current state, and leaves with a wink.
