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I turn toward the table Shae is sitting at and plop down beside her, pulling out my phone to give Chace a piece of my mind when Cowboy Casanova flashes across the screen.
“Cowboy Casanova?” Shae is apparently much closer than I realized, peering down at my phone over my shoulder. She wrinkles her nose in mock disgust. “Gross, Addie. Like that man’s ego needs any more stroking.”
Heat immediately crawls up my neck. I never updated the contact name after Chace changed it all those weeks ago. And of course Shae had to see it. I’m going to kill him. “Shut up and mind your own business,” I mutter, angling the phone away from her before she can make it worse.
“Touchy,” she laughs.
I ignore her and open the message.
Cowboy Casanova: You look good enough to eat, Sunshine.
No. He does not get to ignore me for twenty-four hours, waltz in here looking sexy-as-fuck, and then pretend as if nothing happened. So I do the most mature thing possible.
Me: fuck off!
His reply comes almost immediately.
Cowboy Casanova: I love it when you talk dirty to me, baby.
I press my lips together, refusing to give in to his nonsense—I’m supposed to be angry with him. I can practically picture the smug little grin on his face, and God help me, it does something to my insides. I toss my phone facedown on the table and stand.
Asshole.
He doesn’t text me again, but when I get back to the table, there’s a small grease-stained paper bag sitting in front of my seat that definitely wasn’t there before. My name is scribbled across the front, followed by Congratulations, I owe you a milkshake.
I open the bag and find a cheeseburger and fries tucked inside. They’re cold now, but somehow that doesn’t matter. A smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it, and the irritation I’ve been holding onto all day disappears. I glance around the room, looking for him, but Chace is nowhere in sight.
I’m still standing there with the crumpled bag in my hands, feeling entirely too sentimental over a cold cheeseburger, when someone taps me on the shoulder.
“Hey, Addie.”
I spin around, thinking it’s him, but instead I find Kenny Wilt standing in front of me. He’s thirteen, all elbows and knees. He takes riding lessons at Clark Ranch. He looks so painfully serious that I have to bite back a smile.
“I was wondering if you would maybe like to dance.”
The poor kid looks like asking me might be the scariest thing he’s done all year. There’s no way I’m saying no. “Of course.” I smile and hold out my hand. “It would be my pleasure.”
His entire face lights up, and just like that, I’m being led toward the dance floor by the sweetest, most nervous cowboy in the room.
The poor kid is so petrified I almost feel bad for him. He holds himself stiff as a board, one hand barely resting at my waist while the other grips mine like he’s afraid he might accidentally hurt me. I let him suffer through it for a few seconds before asking about the horse he’s been working with. That does the trick. His shoulders loosen almost immediately, and by the time he starts telling me how much progress they’ve made, he looks a little less like he’s facing a firing squad.
I smile and let him talk, doing my best to give him my full attention, but every so often my eyes drift over his shoulder and scan the room anyway.
Another song starts up before Kenny has fully let go of my hand, and he looks like he’s working up the nerve to ask me for one more dance when a body steps in behind me, and I instantly know it’s Chace.
“I think I’ll take her from here, kid.”
I only catch the brief flash of disappointment on Kenny’s face before Chace takes my hand and slides his other to my waist, smoothly pulling me into the next dance.
“You just broke that kid’s heart.” I smack his chest.
“That’s what he gets for trying to move in on what’s mine.” He laughs, guiding me around another couple as the song picks up around us.
“Are you seriously jealous of a kid with a crush?” I let him turn me beneath our joined hands before stepping back into rhythm with him. “How mature of you, Cowboy.”
“That’s rich coming from someone who just me to fuck off in a text message.”
“You’ve been ignoring me.” The words come out sharper than I intended.
