Page 40 of For Cowgirls and Kings
When I ran into her at the Stock Show, the tension was a living breathing thing around us. So much so, I could tell even the student’s were picking up on it. And so instead of demanding we speak and potentially messing up her day withher students, I swallowed my tongue. I’d been so happy to see her, but she had acted anything but. A fact that still guts me.
She grumbles unintelligibly on the other side, and then hisses, “Why is that any of your fucking business, Mateo? You can’t just keep popping in and out of my life whenever it suits you. Friends don’t do that. And certainly not people who are more than—” She stops, like she can’t believe what she just said, and I hold my breath. “Don’t call unless you have something important to say.”
She hangs up before I can tell her, what?What can I even say?
“That went well.” My eyes snap up to McCrae’s humorless face, his eyes icy and piercing into me like he’s trying to read my thoughts.
I hate how much he sees.
“You’ll look into this person who was outside her house and let me know if you find anything out. In the meantime, you’ll check her camera often—like once an hour often. I’ll also keep an eye on them, just in case you miss something.” It’s not a question, but his brows still lift as if he’s confused.
“Don’t you have someone,lower,who can keep an eye on your girlfriend's camera, Boss?” I hate that he thinks he’s above any task I would give him, much less the one that might just be the most important one to me. Not bloody enough for him no doubt.
“Have something better to do, McCrae?” I challenge. Instead of arguing he sighs, shaking his shaggy blonde hair, and walks towards the door.
“Why doesn’t anyone just tell them how they feel instead of stalking them these days? I know you’re besties with Gus now, I keep tabs on my little brother just like I always have, but you’re crazy if you think this will end how it did for him. That girl is much darker than yours; had a far more traumatic, fucked upupbringing that clouded her ability to make good choices when it comes to her love life. Happy, sunny, untraumatized people don’t end up with people like us.”
He leaves, his presence settling like an icy blanket over the room. He’s right. Dale shouldn’t end up with someone who comes from a family like mine; who’s had to make choices like I have.
What if I could be different though?
FIFTEEN
MATEO
February 12th, 2025
Without saying as much,Dale’s made it clear she’s tired of the crossed wires, and confusing signals firing between us. Which,thank fuck,because so am I. I don’t know what we are, or where we’re going, but I do know one thing: I think about Dale every second of every day. And I want to show up for her, anyway she’ll let me.
She made it very clear two nights ago when we talked that I’m not welcome to pop in and out of her life when it suits me.
I just hope she’s ready for me to show up, and climb into a permanent spot. Because if she thought that would turn me away, she has another thing coming.
The truck rumbles to a stop beneath me, and I look up at the Texas spring sky, dark grey with rain laden clouds. Sucking in a breath, the smell of pizza coats my nostrils—weirdly sweet pizza because she likes it with pineapple.
You got this.
I roll my eyes. What am I? A lovesick teenager? I run a fucking million dollar ranch and casino conglomerate, with hundreds of employees. I think I can win over one woman.
One especially stubborn, reclusive, feisty woman who seesme as her friend and would like to keep it that way for safety's sake. But I’m jumping in, and I’m dragging her with me.
I open the door, a dinging filling the cab, when the hairs on my neck prickle, as if being watched. I look over my shoulder, heat crawling across my skin like snakes, and I shiver. There’s no one else out, the gloomy weather keeping most people inside this evening, and there’s no cars I don’t recognize.
I’ve become very familiar with all the cars lining her street, especially since the man was seen outside of her house two nights ago. That night, we found a silver Honda parked on the corner—it was beat up and extremely out of place with the others. But I haven’t seen it again, and I don’t see it now.
A door slams shut to my right and I jump, nearly dropping the pizza.
“Mateo?” Dale calls and I whirl to face her. My heart pounds like a drum in my throat, my senses still on high alert. But I don’t want her to know that—I don’t want her to be scared when I already have her well protected.
I plaster on a smile, slamming my truck door and saunter toward her, pizza in hand. Her eyes scour my face, searching for what, I don’t know.
My own drop to the ratty T-shirt covering her chest, draping off one shoulder. The same shirt I saw her—no, bad boy.If I get a hard on right now, she’ll definitely turn me away. This time her legs are covered in black leggings, her feet bare displaying bright purple toenails. She wriggles them, no doubt noticing me stare at them, and I look back up at her with a wink.
“Special delivery.”
She scowls, crossing her arms further. The motion pushes her breasts together beneath the fabric, making it painfully clear she’s not wearing a bra. My mouth goes dry at the sight. I remember what they looked like, how the nipples showed adeep purple color, and the swells were dusted in the perfect pattern of freckles.
She also remembers that I now know what they look like, and she shifts, adjusting her shirt to make their shape a little less obvious.
