I picked up the last shot and handed it to him, watching as he knocked it back without complaint, banging the table with his fist as it went down, laughing.
‘Holy fucking hell, woman,’ he cried, shaking his head. ‘You know something? You’re just the kinda crazy I could get to love.’
There was a hesitation between us, a sliver of reality entering a surreal situation.
Time to leave.
I stood up, the room swirling like the rope in Jesse’s hands at the rodeo.
‘Whoa there, cowgirl . . .’ Cole’s voice. He appeared at my side, strong hands holding me up as the room began to tilt.
‘Don’t tell me you two have had that whole fucking rack of shots between you?’ Lottie scolded. ‘I told you leaving them alone together was a mistake,’ she said to Cole, taking my other side, tucking my arm into hers.
‘He started it,’ I said, my words now blurring together freely, trying to point in Jesse’s direction, and frowning when I realized he’d gone.
‘And you finished me off,’ Jesse said, appearing as if from nowhere behind me. ‘Just like you always do.’
‘Dear fucking God,’ Lottie groaned. ‘Right, we’re going home before this escalates.’
Jesse and I giggled together as we were escorted out of the bar, a pair of naughty schoolkids next to Cole and Lottie’s barely concealed amusement.
‘. . . dread to think where these two could end up if left to it,’ I heard Lottie say. And as I was about to object, I had a vague sense I’d just done something particularly stupid, even by my own standards.
But, for the life of me, my body and brain wholly engulfed in one giant fireball, I couldn’t remember what the fuck that was.
CHAPTER5
HESTIA
The progress on Lottie’s new cabin by the lake was startling. Despite a batch of guests arriving the day after the rodeo, the ranch now at capacity and Lottie in full-on manager mode, Cole and a couple of hired hands had maintained a determined pace. Even in the almost three weeks I’d been here, it’d gone from a bare frame to a full, watertight cabin, roof on and windows in.
Lottie was desperate for them to have a space together, the intensity of their feelings shining through, growing brighter daily. I felt more than a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving them and the ranch, with my flight now coming up in just four days. The only consolation was knowing Lottie was the happiest I’d ever seen her, and that she was surrounded by great people.
Averting my eyes from Cole’s topless form sitting astride the roof in just jeans, boots and his hat, I felt thankful Jesse was nowhere in sight. The temptation of him in the same position would’ve been enough to make me either scale that house like Spider-Man, or wade into the lake – clothes on.
I had no memory of the other night, only a vague sense of unease. I’d put it down to seeing Bailey doing her damnedest to cope with the guilt she felt about Dunkin’s accident, the sense of loss and disappointment almost palpable. I didn’t know how else to help her, given my previous suggested distraction had backfired and landed me with a two-day headache. Come to think of it, I didn’t have many suggestions that didn’t involve alcohol and hangovers, a fact some overpaid, smug therapist had deigned to point out to me once.
I’d left uni not long after. The thought of a career spent pointing out the bleeding fucking obvious for obscene fees somehow grated against my moral code. The irony was, I had since become a de facto therapist for many of my clients, inking their problems, solutions and scars right into their skin.
Returning to my latest sketch, legs tucked up on the outdoor sofa in the cookout area overlooking the lake, I picked up my phone as the screen lit up.
Your drawing is FIRE!
I smiled, opening it and navigating into Messages. I’d taken the plunge and called Dee yesterday, getting her mobile number and sharing a couple of the cow skull sketches I’d made.
Is there any way you’d sell it to me? It would look SO good on a tee.
I paused, looking up as I heard footsteps. Bailey.
Yeah, it’s yours if you want it. But no payment. It’s a present for not forcing me into blue denim in your store.
‘Hey, cowpoke,’ Bailey said, trying a small smile as she approached.
‘Hey,’ I replied, gathering myself up and standing. ‘You okay? How’s Dunkin doing?’
She nodded, and as her smile broadened, I felt a surge of relief. Bailey cared so much for Dunkin, and it’d hit me harder than I’d thought possible to see them both hurt. I liked her a lot – her honesty, the sincerity in her ambition, the obvious love she had for the animals and people here.
‘She’s healing up real well, no lasting damage according to the vet, thank the good lord. But it’s the championships. They’ve given me a wildcard entry, as I didn’t qualify . . . but it means I need another horse. Like, now.’
