Page 4 of Big Rowdy Cowboy

He tries to fight a yawn and loses. I could tell on the drive over here he was getting sleepy. “You have to call my mom. She’ll want to be there.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’d love to meet me,” I mutter as I fluff the covers on the messy bed. It looks like he tossed and turned last night, probably from the pain of the stage fall. Taking the medication must be why he was wandering around in a field instead of on the mountain helping the rest of his family. “Now, climb in.”

He flops onto the bed, and I cringe. That’s probably going to hurt again in the morning. But at least for now, he should be able to get some good sleep. Well, as much good sleep as he can get, figuring that I’ll be waking him.

“Lie down and close your eyes for a minute,” I encourage, pushing on his very big, very broad shoulder. I shouldn’t have the strength to move him at all, but he relaxes under my touch and puts his head on the pillow. He doesn’t close his eyes.

“You can only keep them closed for a minute then you have to open them and look at me again,” I remind him. I explained all of this earlier but given how spaced out he is, I figure another reminder can’t hurt.

He nods solemnly but still doesn’t shut his eyelids.

“OK, try really hard to squeeze them shut.” I tug the blankets up and over his large frame, wondering what it would feel like to crawl into bed beside him. He’s big all over, and I imagine him wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close.

“But then you’ll disappear.” He pouts, sticking his lip out like a kid. Martha said to expect odd behavior or statements since he’s on the medication.

Even though I shouldn’t, I reach forward and smooth the lines of his forehead. “No, I’ll still be here when you wake up, I promise.”

He sighs happily and finally closes his eyes. “Feels good,” he slurs.

I hum a soft tune under my breath as I continue touching his forehead, moving my hand back and forth across his warm skin. He’s so relaxed right now, not like the chaotic force of energy he usually is on stage.

I stay with Zac until his breathing is soft and even, then I turn out his lights.

I know I shouldn’t snoop through other people’s things, but I’m in Zac freakin’ Maple’s house. If there were ever a time to lean into my journalistic curiosity, it’s definitely now. I won’t write about anything I find, I’m not a total jerk. But I have a million questions about the hot country singer. Where does he get the ideas for all of those slow love ballads? What type of jam does he like with his toast?

“Huh, blackberry, just like me,” I mutter to myself as I spin around the jam jar in his fridge. Hardly breaking news.

He has an open-concept floor plan so I can see everything at once. His gleaming kitchen with marble countertops and stainless-steel appliances is a chef’s dream. Next to the kitchen is a formal dining room with a big oak table and six chairs.

His living room is a typical bachelor pad with a big-screen TV and leather recliners. On his coffee table is his guitar and a handful of sticky notes, all with various phrases scratched on them.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me. I look around guiltily for Zac, relieved when he’s not nearby. I already have astring of alarms set two hours apart on my phone to wake him. It means I won’t sleep too much, but seeing as his head injury is my fault in the first place, I can’t complain. The text message is from my best friend, Sadie. She’s also on the mountain, helping with the storm cleanup.

Sadie:Checking in. Did you find Betsy?

Dotty:…Not quite.

Sadie:Ooh, did you find a better story?

I pause and hesitate. Sadie is dating Barrett, one of Zac’s older brothers. They’ll be worried if they hear that he’s been hit by a car. At least, I think families are supposed to be that way. Mine isn’t that great, but I know from what Sadie’s said that the Maple siblings are all close. They really seem to love each other.

Finally, I settle on a simple text.

Dotty:Something like that. I’ll tell you at book club. How are you doing?

Sadie: We’re tired but good. Reception is spotty. Should be back soon.

Dotty:Can’t wait to see you. *kiss emoji*

I wait for a few minutes, but I don’t get any more text messages from Sadie. I continue to search through Zac’s living room and eventually, his music room. While he seems to have a serious habit of scrawling ideas on sticky notes, there’s no deep, dark secret here.

“You’re the most boring celebrity I’ve ever met,” I mutter to myself as I slip into one of his flannel shirts. I wish I had my comfortable pajamas, but this will have to do. Not that I mind this. It’s soft and smells like Zac.

Despite the fact that I’m a big girl, the material drapes down to my mid-thigh. It’s decent so I skip the sweatpants of his I grabbed and opt for the shirt.

I roll up the sleeves and make his couch with a couple of extra blankets. I snagged them from his linen closet. Finally, I settle onto my makeshift bed and drift into a dreamless sleep.

I’m woken what feels like only minutes later by the alarm on my phone. I rouse Zac, making sure he knows who and where he is. I hope that’s good enough, especially because I’m so tired.

---