Jameson makes me take a nap in the afternoon and then I’m spending the night in the barn again. This time, Betsy has her calf. The excitement of it keeps me away from my phone, which chimes with a notification that Austin has canceled another show. In the few weeks that I’d subscribed to her, she’d cammed almost every single night, so canceling shows back to back like this had me convinced something was wrong.
I spend the rest of the night stressing over the new calf and how I’m going to get Austin’s number from Kenny in equal measure. I figure the calf can be my excuse for why I need to speak to her best friend. I just don’t know how I’ll get past Kenny offering to tell Austin about the calf herself instead, or Kenny questioning why Austin would care enough about the cow to warrant a special message to begin with. I’m assuming Austin didn’t tell Kenny she slept in the barn next to me last night.
“I’ll text it to you,” she says without preamble when I ask, rushing to her pickup. It’s muffled, because she has a piece of toast sticking out of her mouth, obviously late.
“Oh. Okay. Thanks,” I reply with a blink. After worrying myself all night about how I’d word my request, her quick agreement surprises me.
“I love you, but move your ass. I’m late as hell.” She tries to shove me away from the door when I go to open it for her, no time for my chivalry, apparently.
Normally, I’d try to make her slow down, piss her off to make her later. It’s not like Theo will give a fuck if she gets there a few minutes past eight, but Kenny is obsessed with maintaining a good impression.
An hour later, Austin’s number comes through, along with a warning from my sister that has me rolling my eyes.
Kendall
I don’t know what you plan to do with this, but if you’re mean to my best friend, I’ll kill you, Maddie.
I can’t really tell my sister I plan to ask Austin why she canceled her show on a porn site that I only knew about because I was a subscriber, so I don’t reply at all.
Maddox
Hey.
Smooth.
She doesn’t answer and I spend the day with my attention on Austin when it should be on the ranch. I keep thinking I’m feeling my phone vibrate, only, every time I drop whatever I’m doing and pull it out of my jeans, there aren’t any notifications whatsoever.
“Hey, does your phone ever vibrate and then not have any messages or anything on it?” I ask Jameson as I thumb through the different pages of apps, trying to find a red circle showing the reason for the vibration so I don’t have to admit that I’m just losing my goddamn mind.
He doesn’t answer right away and when I look up at him, he’s holding the other end of the long log that I’d dropped to pull my phone out, glaring at me pointedly.
“Shit, sorry.” I shove the phone back in my pocket and bend down to pick my end back up, walking it over to the fire pit together. Mama has decided she wants logs as seating. I really feel like we could’ve at least waited until the snow melted so we could use a tractor, or maybe put this task at the end of the list so we could focus on more important chores. I guess that’s what ranch hands are for though.
“Phantom vibrations. Usually happens when you’re excited for a message to come through,” Jameson says when we drop the log again—intentionally, this time. “Are you waiting to hear from a hat honey or something?”
“What the fuck is a hat honey?”
“A woman who likes dating cowboys.”
“That’s a buckle bunny.”
“No, that’s a woman who likes dating rodeo stars. They’re different.”
I pause for a second to get a read on his face, to see if he’s making a joke I just don’t understand, but he looks serious. “You make that up?”
“Yeah.”
He looks too damn proud of himself. I take my hat off and try to find a relatively clean part of my tee shirt to wipe my face, figuring out how to say what I wanna say nicely. “Why?” is what I land on.
Jameson’s far too used to my bluntness to take offense. “Why should Colt be the only one who gets to have the cool name for his chicks?”
“He isn’t. Hockey players do, too. And cleat-wearing athletes, I think.” I put my hat back on and stand with my hands on my hips. I’m too old for this conversation and so is he. “And actually, I don’t think we’re supposed to call women by thingslike that. I’m pretty sure Kenny nearly ripped Colt’s throat out for it during Christmas.”
Jamie wipes his face with his shirt as well, considering that. “Well, hell.”
“Well, hell,” I agree.
FIFTEEN
