Page 33 of Wild Eyes
Maybe it’s just today. Or maybe there’s something in the air. Maybe there’s a cosmic force in the stars I was just staring at that makes it so we’re constantly thrust into each other’s paths. Whatever it is, there’s an uncanny vibe about the whole thing. Serendipitous even.
With a smile, I say, “Yes, I came up here to spy on you because I could hear you belting out my song all the way from the bunkhouse.”
He chuckles now and turns his chin over his shoulder to glare at me. “You’re full of shit. I was notbelting. And even if I was, there’s no point in being embarrassed—we both know I sound good. And we both know you just came up for the show.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. But the apples of my cheeks hurt from the pressure of my smile.
West turns to face me. He has a welcoming quality about him and doesn’t make me feel like I’ve crossed some boundary or overstayed my welcome. “You were probably hoping I didn’t have my shirt on again. So you could check the quality of my shave,of course.”
I waggle a finger over the length of his body as I take a cautious step into the barn. “Never mind your shirt. It’s your jeans that are distracting.”
My sandals slide across the concrete as an expression of mock outrage morphs his features. “Skylar Stone, are you checking out my ass?”
I lick my lips quickly.
Are we flirting?
It feels like we’re flirting.
And I don’t have the good sense to put a stop to it.
“No. It’s your thighs.”
He peers down at where his muscular thighs do indeed fill out his jeans. “What about my thighs?”
I hold my hands up and make a squeezing motion with both. “They’re meaty.”
Now his jaw truly drops open. I might have caught him off guard with that one.
“Did you just motion squeezing my thighs?”
I shrug and twirl a piece of my hair around my finger as I search for something interesting to stare at. “More of a grope. And don’t judge me. City boys don’t have thighs like that.”
He barks out a laugh now, propping those distracting hands on his hips. “No, I suppose not. City boys don’t spend all day riding horses. I don’t believe you weren’t checking out my ass, though. I have a great ass.”
I shrug, still refusing to turn my head in his direction. Or to admit that I definitely was checking out his ass. And it definitely is great. “The right jeans can make any ass look good.”
I peek at him as one of his cheeks hikes up. The dimple there is borderline blinding. “Should I take them off so you can test that theory?”
I laugh, shaking my head and scooping my hair behind my ears. My ears that are suddenly warm from his blatant flirtation.
It’s freeing to exchange these quips with West. I don’t know if it’s because my parents wouldn’t approve of him or that I feel safe with him. It strikes me that even if I said the things I’m thinking, he’d roll with the punches and not get weird about it.
It’s like breaking the rules and knowing there will be no repercussions.
But as fun as this is, guys like West and girls like me don’t work. Not in the long run anyway.
“Well, am I losing the pants so you can keep gawking at me like a piece of meat? Or are you gonna get your fine ass in here and help me?”
I blink. “Help you?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, you can toss hay. It’s night check.”
“Toss hay?” I ask, not familiar with the term. “Is that what it’s called when you hold it in your arms and do a two-step?”
He chuckles roughly and shakes his head. “Yeah, you can do the tango with it first if that’s more your speed. But this thing here is a square bale.” He points at the rectangular bundle of hay in the wheelbarrow. “And if you do this”—West runs his hand over the prickly green hay and digs his fingers in where there appears to be a slight gap—“you can just pull it open right here.” He lifts a thin square piece of hay off the end of the bale that somehow sticks together. “And this right here is a flake.” He does a dramatic pirouette with the flake in his hands and hits me with a wink before heaving it into the feeder attached to the stall beside him.
I press my lips together, to keep from bursting out laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”
