Page 35 of My Cowboy Freedom
She was never going to understand how easily the cowboys could pull Sky into their circle—and how soon he would forget I existed after that.
“Never mind,” I said.
Skyler was a good-looking guy. And he had a badass quality that turned my crank real hard. Usually, the Skyler Brodys of this world weren’t queer—or they were queer, but they didn’t hang around with guys like me. I don’t know why I hoped this time might be different.
My dog had a better chance with Skyler Brody than I did.
I said, “He’s just another cowboy anyway.”
“You’ve got plenty of time to get to know him. Boss just wants to make sure he’s a good guy first.”
“Why would the boss even hire him if he’s not?”
“The boss is giving Skyler a fresh start. But not everyone makes that work, you know?”
“I know.”
“So let him get acclimated.” She gave me a shove I barely felt. “You’re always in such a rush.”
But of course I am in a rush!My life was never, ever going to even start, if all the people trying to protect me had their way.
I kicked at a pinecone, sending Maisy skittering after it.
We walked in silence while Maisy discovered one amazing thing after another. It seemed like I did too, when I finally took a real good look at Elena.
The force of nature who called herself my godmother was also single and maybe she was lonely. If she was, she hardly ever let it show. She had dark silky hair she wore in a single braid that fell like a chocolate-brown river over one shoulder and brown eyes that sparkled with kindness and genuine good humor.
She’d been just a little more animated lately. And she’d started dressing nicer. She was wearing lipstick too, even when she wasn’t planning to go into town. And suddenly, it all came together for me: This was all about Foster Splint, the foreman who stopped by the ranch house to clarify something with the boss almost every evening, and always stayed for coffee afterward.
Foster who sat at the kitchen table, eating dessert or talking with Elena and me while we tidied everything up for the night.
Foster, who was sweet on my Madrina.
Elena was still young. Still pretty, in the way of earth women and minor goddesses. And Foster was gentle and good—the type of guy you’d hope a woman you liked very much would end up with.
They were perfect for each other.
So why didn’t I feel better about it?
Because you’re sucking on some really sour grapes. That’s why.
When is it going to be my turn?
“So...” I shot her the side-eye. “Foster Splint?”
“Is none of your beeswax.” She turned primly and picked up her pace, asking sharply, “But what’s wrong with Foster?”
“Nothing. I like him.”
“So you don’t think a guy like that could be a good fit for me?”
“No. I said I liked—”
“Maybe you’re right.” She shook her head. “I should just forget it. God, it’s so stupid.”
“Why?” I couldn’t believe how quickly she’d gone from hot to cold.
“Because he’s younger than me. He’s only forty-two, you know? He’s never been married and he doesn’t have kids. He’s even tight with his folks. What will they think? I’ve got no business dating a guy like him.”
