Her heart is as big as Texas, and I can’t believe the men in her life have taken advantage of her because of it. It makes me want to knee them directly in the balls, and maybe do something immature and stupid like slash their tires or key their truck.
“That’s how it starts. Next thing you know, you’ll be making him dinner every night and ditching girls’ nights because he doesn’t trust you to go out without him,” I whine.
“I promise not to cancel a single girls’ night because of him.”
“Mm-hmm,” I reply, unconvinced.
“This conversation took a turn. We were supposed to be talking about you and Wes,” she says, trying to steer the conversation away from her own dating problems.
“That is not what we were supposed to be talking about. That’s just what you’ve fixated on this entire conversation,” I point out, covering my face with my arm to block out the light filtering into my room from the hallway.
“Wes is a good guy,” she says.
I put my tongue between my lips and blow a raspberry in response to her take on Wes Dawson.
“You might not agree with him wanting Pops to sell the ranch, but he’s not a bad person. You know Tripp wouldn’t put up with him if he was. Speaking of which, under no circumstances are you to tell Tripp that I’m still hooking up with Chase.”
“What do I get for keeping my mouth shut?”
“My eternal friendship and undying gratitude.”
“Ha! I already have that. Try again,” I press.
“Fine. I’ll leave you alone about Wes.”
“Deal!”
I don’t need Allie putting silly ideas in my head about Wes Dawson and no-strings-attached fun. I didn’t have time to worry about sex.
Or the lack thereof.
There were a million things I needed to get done, and the way my body felt like I’d been hit by a truck after a day in the saddle, made me think there was a flare-up coming and who knew how long that would keep me away from working with the horses the way I needed to?
I’d get as much done tomorrow as I could. Until my muscles were weak and every bone in my body ached and I was too exhausted to think about Wes Dawson and how he’d looked in that damn Stetson and those Levi’s today.
Stubborn Old Man
Wes
Sawyer left once we got the herd in the pens and let Pops, Tripp, and I worry about getting them in the chutes and vaccinating them. She came back showered with her hair braided and smelling of lavender with a meal fit for kings as the sun made its way toward the horizon. At least that’s how it felt at the time, eating marinated chicken and potatoes out of tin foil while sitting around the fire pit. Pops had only complained minimally that it wasn’t steak, which—Sawyer reminded him—wasn’t good for his heart.
After we’d finished the food, Sawyer and Tripp left to tend to things at their own houses, and now I’m resting on the porch, enjoying kicking up my feet after a long day of physical labor. My shoulders and arms are sore as hell, and I know they’ll feel worse tomorrow. My back aches from being in the saddle, but it feels like I accomplished something today.
Pops hands me one of the beers he’s holding and sits in the rocker next to me on the old front porch with a groan. “It sure was nice havin’ an extra set of hands here.”
I ease back in my own wicker chair and take a pull from the bottle. “Glad I could help out.”
There’s not a single cloud tonight and there’s a million stars lighting up the sky. A bullfrog croaks from the small pond nearby and the cattle aren’t exactly quiet, but it’s peaceful—more restful than the city—and as exhausted as I am, I can’t quite make myself hate this place as much as I thought I did. On nights like this, sitting on the porch with Pops drinking a beer after a day of hard work, it’s damn near pleasant.
“You should come more often. Get some more practice in so you don’t get rusty.” He peers at me out of the corner of his eye like I’m a bomb that might go off at any second.
I grunt, thinking about all the words resting on my tongue, waiting to be said. They taste bitter there, but if I want to get home, I need to say them.
“Alright, Wes. Why don’t you come on out with it, then? I know you’ve got somethin’ to say, so say it.”
I glance at Pops, hat pulled down low so I can’t see his eyes, but his mouth is turned down in a disapproving frown. I can feel the disappointment rolling off him in waves, and it makes my hackles rise enough for me to get the words out, my tone biting.
“I know you fancy yourself indestructible, but you’re not. That heart attack proved it. You shouldn’t be out here by yourself, and the hospitals in the city are much better than the one out here in the middle of nowhere. You should sell this place.”
