I didn’t think for one second that riding a horse would change my life, or that I would suddenly find a new path for myself. But I did feel slightly bad about still living with Krista when she was married to the love of her life.
I just didn’t want to go back to that damn mobile house.
“Come outside when you’re ready,” Michael grumbled, walking out.
Holding open the belt, I slid my leg inside, grimacing when my jeans got stuck on the leather. Removing my leg, I tucked my jeans into my sock, hoping that would hold them in place.
Again, I slid my leg through the opening, grimacing when the jeans eventually pulled out of my sock and started riding up my calf, pushing the jeans up into my junk. This was fucking ridiculous. How did guys do this?
Walking out into the living area, I scoured the place for anything that would hold my jeans in place, but the only thing I found was a clothespin, and I highly doubted that would do a fucking thing to solve my problem.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Rob asked.
“Trying to get in the damn chaps,” I muttered.
Strolling over, he cocked his head to the side as he studied the leather wrapped around my leg. “Well, this is easy enough to fix. I’ll hold your jeans while you pull them up.”
That sounded simple enough, but was that really how cowboys did this sort of thing? It seemed way too complicated.
Snaking his hand up the chaps, he felt around until he found my jeans nearly halfway up my calf.
“Got it. Alright, pull on three.”
“Or you could just pull right now,” I muttered.
“Hey, I’m trying to work as a team. If you want, I can just get my breakfast and leave you to figure this out on your own.”
Rolling my eyes, I nodded. “Fine. On three. One, two, three!”
We both pulled, and my pants were now comfortably in place.
Aside from one small issue.
Rob scratched his jaw, staring at the other leg. “Do you think we should have done them at the same time?”
“Probably would have been smart.”
“Alright, I’ve got an idea. Remember in the 80s how they used to fold over the bottom of their jeans and then roll them?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Well, if you do that, they should stay more toward your ankles. Then I’ll undo them after I pull your jeans down.”
It sounded like a better plan than him reaching up into my chaps and feeling up my leg, so I rolled my pants and shoved my leg through. After tugging the chaps up just enough, he got a good grip on the jeans.
Nodding, he wiggled into a good stance. “Alright, on three.”
“Wait, we should probably get them all the way into position this time.”
“Right. So, lay on your back, and I’ll tug both legs at the same time.”
Again, way too fucking complicated, but I laid down on the ground and raised my legs in the air. He grabbed the pant legs as I grabbed the belt loop.
“On three.”
“One, two?—”
I heaved with all my might as he tugged my pants in the other direction. My pants came down just a little, but the chaps were perfectly in place.
