Page 37 of For Cowgirls and Kings
Her back’s turned now, hands crossed in front of her. From her rigid stance, I get the impression it isn’t a positive conversation. Lifting my eyes, my eyebrows shoot to my hairline.
Nathan?
I guess it makes sense. His family also runs in the angus breeding world. Not nearly as prevalent and powerful as Faith’s family, but there all the same. His family is practically royalty in Moztecha, with their hands in all kinds of pots: angus breeding, a used car dealership, the sale barn, some old oil money.
I’m not wealthy, I don’t even think it should play a big role in someone’s character, but I knew Stetson needed help with her ranch. Which is why I had pushed Nathan on her so strongly in the beginning, even if he did come off as a total prick. I went to school with Nathan, but he was always too popular for the likes of me. Which means I knew who he was, but notwhohe was. I could tell he was never really interested in Stetson when I set them up, but I had hoped.
I just wanted to help.
Mateo leans in again, his starched jeans rubbing against my own, unpressed pair, and I stare down at the two starkly different finishes. They’re just jeans, and yet,they’re not.
It’s a perfect representation of just how different we really are.
Mine are old and worn, fading in spots, the hem around the ankle frayed completely, unpressed with a mysterious stain on one knee. His are dark, no tatters or tears like this is their first trip out, perfectly creased into a hard line down the front.
Pressed and perfect, just like the man who wears them.
Talk about wealth.
“Dale?” Mateo asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Sorry, I think it’s Nathan Swith. He lives in Moztecha. We went to school with him. I’m surprised you don’t recognize him. He was more in your—” I pause mid sentence. What can I even say?Your class?That sounds fucking snobby as shit. But he huffs, telling me he already knows what I meant, and I just shrug, my eyes zeroing back in on the glaring difference between our jeans,and our lives.
“Looks like it’s getting heated,” he states, and I look up just in time to see Faith throw up her hands, stomping away from the ring.
What the hell was that about?
“I don’t know. I didn’t even think they really knew each other.” But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense that they would. Nathan grew up the golden boy—the town's favorite, shrouded in his family's golden shadow. And Faith, the porcelain doll her parents always wanted her to be—the perfect example of old money and the divine righteousness that brings.
There’s no two people who are probably better matched, on paper, than Nathan and Faith.
But why hasn’t she ever brought him up?
Faith always went to private schools,or maybe homeschool,I don’t even know. Another selfish mishap in our friendship.
“I’ll have to ask her next time I see her,” I say, my mind running over the possibilities.
He nods, shifting away and I look up. His smile’s softer, a sense of sadness falling over him somehow.
“Well it was good to see you. I have some work I need to get to, but—” His words drop off. He’s barely been here five minutes, and the unspoken words dangle between us. There’s so much I want to say, to ask, but now’s not the time or place.
Especially with an entourage of eager and nosy teenage ears.
Asking him why he sent me a dildo for Christmas would no doubt end my career. The corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile spreads wider—always reading my mind—and winks, the motion sending a fresh wave of electricity to race through me.
Fucking hell.I need to get it together.
“I’ll see you soon, Ms. Mendes?” It’s a question, and yet I have no answer.
I still don’t understand what’s happening between us.
“If you’re good,” I say, meaning it more as a joke, hoping to lighten the mood. But his eyes darken telling me it was not received as such.
His gaze doesn’t waver from my own as he stands, towering over me. I continue to stare back at him, sucked into the void that’s been yawning between us for months now.
Where are we going? What’s happening?
“See you guys, be good for your teacher,” he states, his eyes still boring into my own. A wave of heat washes over me, and I shift my position, pressing my legs together slightly. Mumbling filters up from behind me, and then Mateo turns striding away, confidence and dominance pouring off him in waves.
