Page 12 of 11 Cowboys
***
Back at the barn, I try to wipe the dirt off my jeans with my filthy hands, smearing even more dirt. Pointless. My hair’s frizzing, my face is flushed, and I’m one awkward comment away from collapsing.
“Why do peoplechoosethis life?” I mutter.
Cody hands me a bottle of water. “Because it’s ours. No boss breathing down our necks. No uncomfortable deskchair, boring meeting, or soulless commute to a job we hate. Everything you look at…” he sweeps his arm almost full circle, “is ours.”
I twist off the cap and drink. It’s warm, metallic, and somehow the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
“It’s hard work,” Nash says quietly, leaning against the barn wall. “But it’s honest.”
I look between them at the sunlight behind their shoulders, the dust on their skin, and the calm satisfaction in their eyes.
These men are the realest thing I’ve met in years.
And that’s kind of terrifying.
Becauserealis dangerous. Real doesn’t come with warning labels or escape clauses. Real makes you feel things when you’ve spent years numbing yourself with the next project, the next night out, the next forgettable man.
I wipe a smear of sweat off my temple and force a half-smile. “So, where’s the spa?”
Cody grins. “You passed it. It’s the trough we walked by with the algae in it.”
Nash adds, totally deadpan, “You can book a mud wrap. Fall down, and we’ll leave you there.”
I laugh more than I mean to, and it surprises all three of us.
The barn behind us groans with heat. Somewhere nearby, a horse snorts and kicks at the ground. The sun’s climbing, but the air still feels soft out here. I want to ask them why they’re really doing this. The ad. The woman. The arrangement feels more like fantasy than reality.
Instead, I ask, “So what do you guys do for fun? Or is all this fencing an elaborate foreplay ritual?”
Cody snorts. “Don’t knock it. We’ve had proposals come in from women who said barbed wire’s their kink.”
I snort, seriously wondering if he’s telling the truth and if he’ll share the responses they’ve had for research purposes, of course. I’m nosy and feel like assessing the competition. Nash smiles. That quiet, unreadable kind thatmakes me want to peel up his edges and peek at the secrets beneath.
I flush at that intrusive thought that I’m vying for these men in any way. What the hell is going on with me today?
Cody glances at me. “You ever been on a horse?”
“Only in heels at a bachelorette party. Pretty sure it was traumatized.”
He laughs. “Then you’re overdue for a proper introduction. We’ll fix that.”
“Great,” I say flatly. “Looking forward to straddling livestock with no control over my lower body.”
“Hell of a way to bond,” Nash murmurs, then pushes off the barn wall. “Come on. Let’s get you cooled off before you melt into the hay.”
“Can I take a couple of pictures first?”
Cody grins, and Nash stares at my phone like it might turn him to stone. They lean against the barn wall, with arms folded like hunky bookends. I check the photos for quality and flush hot at the sexiness captured in small format. Wow! The readers are going to devour these men. This article is going to find them a wife overnight with this level of man-candy on offer. A ripple of jealousy snakes through me, but I squash it down hard, following them toward the house, my legs aching and my pride a little bruised. On the way, a dog barrels across the yard, heading in our direction.
“Easy, Beau,” Nash says, laughing.
He holds out his hand, but Beau doesn’t stop. Instead, he trots up like he owns the place and intends to size me up. Big, black, golden, and grinning, his tail wagging in wide, lazy arcs, he pauses a foot from me, his head tilted, his amber eyes curious. Then, without warning, he nudges my hand with his wet nose and lets out a low, approvingwoof. I laugh, surprised by the sudden warmth in my chest. He leans into my legs like he’s known me forever. Like I already belong here.
“Well, what do you know?” Nash shakes his head, grinning broader than I’ve seen all day. “You’ve gottenBeau’s approval. After that, the rest of us fall in line.”
I pet Beau’s warm side, thinking this isn’t the story I thought I’d be writing.
