Page 7 of For Cowgirls and Kings
“Are you going to order it or do you need me to?” I settle further into the chair, a motion Mateo doesn’t miss. And his shoulders fall, whatever fight leaving his body.
“Do I just call the bar or what?” He’s actually confused and that makes me smile.
“Fine, I’ll do it.” I wink at him, “What would you like on your pizza, your highness?”
“Fucking smartass.” But he’s smiling at me, and I hate that I’m already thinking of more ways to keep that smile on his face.
“Tell you what, you win at a dance battle and I’ll order whatever you want on the pizza. If I win, you’ll not only have tofumble ordering the thing, but you’ll order what I want on it, and you’ll have to talk in a British accent.”
His eyebrows raise so high they disappear into his hair. “I think I’m being fucked either way.”
I climb out of the chair, my hair falling over my face, because picturing him“getting fucked”, especially if I was the one doing it, makes my face burn.
“Come on, your highness.” I bow, folding at the waist in front of him, and he snorts.
“Stop calling me that.”
I stand up, and cock a brow. “Your kingliness?”
“You should be curtsying anyways. Girls don’t bow.”
I slap at his knee. “Oh my apologies, your high kingliness.” He groans, swiping a giant hand over his face, and I turn around, sauntering back to my phone sitting on the arm rest.
“What are you making me dance to?”
“Weighing your options?” I scroll through a playlist until I find the song I’m looking for, and then giggle. This is one of the more ridiculous ideas I’ve ever had, but now that it’s formed, I have to see it through. Iwillsee Mateo dance to this song, and it will be the greatest day of my life.
“Contemplating if a bullet to the brain would be better.”
“Come on—” I hit play, and turn to him, already nodding my head to the classical beginning chords of my favorite song. The start is slow, and I can see the wheels turning in Mateo’s beautiful brain. Before the song has had a chance to build, he’s up, shuffling toward me, a mix of discomfort, disbelief, and something akin to giddiness on his face. And then the chorus breaks—I begin singing the lyrics, twirling, my long hair swishing like a black cape around us. Chappell Roans famous lyrics about pink ponies and dancing fill the tiny space, and I laugh at the sheer oddity of it all.
Mateo remains frozen, and I dance aroundhis stoak figure, belting the words above Chappell’s incredible voice, the lyrics like scripture in my heart. I could sing it in my sleep, but it’s not your traditional song, and I know I’ve caught Mateo even more off guard. I laugh, the sound so full of joy it makes my own heart ache.
How long has it been since I’ve allowed myself to be this silly? To let my guard down enough to feel this safe with another person?
I grab his hands, swaying my body and bouncing around him. I laugh again, tipping my head back and when I look up at him, his face is split into the most breathtaking smile. He shakes his head, andthen shocking the actual fuck out of me,he starts to tug back and forth on my arms, slightly twisting his hips—a more refined version of my chaos, but dancing with me all the same.
I don’t spend another second thinking about it. I let myself enjoy it, enjoy him and his smile, and his giant body, rippling with muscles as he shakes his hips.
Chappell Roan—you delicious devil, you—you can make even a king smile with your lyrics.
THREE
MATEO
July 19th, 2024
“Hey Boss, you dropped this.”
I lean over Sven, running my fingers through his silver mane and over the bulging muscles of his neck. His eyes swivel as his chest presses in and out against my thighs, evidence that even for him it’s fucking hot out.
I face Jonah, one of my more eager stable boys, shading my face to get a better look at the item in question. He holds my grey shirt in his fist, waving it around like a flag.
A flag that all but announces“the boss”is currently shirtless.
“Leave it,” I grumble, urging Sven’s enormous hooves toward the gate. Cows ball in the distance, a welcome sound in the turbulent voices swirling in my head. Every thought starting with miles of long onyx hair, and ending with purple lipstick and a smile meant to tempt the devil.
“What happens if the ladies see you?” he teases, flinging the shirt over the rails as he leans against it watching me.
