Page 45 of My Cowboy Freedom
“What’s the knife mean?”
“It means, ‘Don’t get stabbed in the back’.” If I twisted my head around just right, I could see the very top of the stylized dagger ’Nando inked on my right shoulder. I thought I was so badass when I got it. I’d gotten into a beef with one of ’Nando’s rivals and he’d fucked me up pretty bad. Later, ’Nando inked me to mark the occasion.Oh, hey. How long did a tetanus shot last?“It’s good advice.”
“Doesn’t look like you took it, though.” He pointed the neck of his guitar toward the nasty-looking scar on my lower back.
“I got that before ’Nando inked his little reminder.” Rock stopped playing again. The past was the past, but it was also right there between us, written directly on my skin. Words and pictures from another life. Inked by an old lover. I took another step away. “Anyhow, I’m going to see if I can get some sleep now.”
“Once he gets you up to speed, the boss’ll give you plenty to do. You’ll sleep like a country boy soon.”
“I’ll be glad for that. Good night, Rock.”
“Night.” He waved. “Sweet dreams.”
When I was about fifty feet up the trail, he started playing the old Roy Orbison tune, “Dream Baby.” I gave a soft laugh as I walked, hands shoved into my pockets. One of the dogs—I think Jason had called this one Digger—joined me. Looking for a handout, probably.
“I’m sorry little dude,” I said. “I got nothing.”
“He’s a big mooch anyway.” Julio materialized from the shadows and fell into step beside me. He gave me a curt nod, eyes on my shirtless condition. “You collecting mosquito bites?”
“I’m immune.” I glanced down at myself. How did I come to be out there half-dressed again? Oh yeah. Following the music like an idiot. “My mom used to hate that. She’d practically bathe in DEET and still get bitten to hell. Bugs just don’t dig me.”
“I’d say that’s pretty lucky.”
“Suits me.”
“You know what’s unlucky?” He tried drilling pilot holes into me with his gaze, tried seeing right into my brain. “Getting hit by lightning.”
“I’ll bet.” Or I could imagine anyway. “Boss told me about Rock. That’s a real unlucky break. He seems like a nice kid.”
“Yeah, well. He’s also twenty-three but he lost some growing-up time after the accident, so maybe he’s not the most mature kid, ever. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I was starting to. “I’m sure—”
“What would be even more unlucky is some ex-con coming into his life and confusing him about what he needs, or worse, turning his head away from what’s good for him.”
I glanced back toward the porch where Rock’s fingers were probably hovering over the strings while he listened to snatches of our conversation. Sounds carried out there in the ranch country. “I don’t know what you think that was about, but—”
“Most of us don’t go around half-dressed out of respect for Elena.”
I lowered my head. “Sorry, sir. I was just having trouble sleeping. It won’t happen again.”
“Good night.” He made the word a dismissal.
“Good night.”
Once I was back inside my room, I shucked my jeans and lay down again, listening to the faintest strains of Rock’s music on the wind.
Now every song choice had me wondering.Why is he singing that?
And on some deeper level, I wished I knew what he was thinking about.
Because I... I was thinking about him.
How he looked. How he smelled. How he laughed and smiled. I was thinking about his short wavy hair and those blue eyes I had to look way up to see.
And maybe it just made sense.
Maybe I’m the kind who needs someone to fixate on.
