Page 128 of My Cowboy Freedom
I couldn’t tell him I had to leave. How could I? “What I need is you. I need this night with you.”
“That’s almost too easy.” He smiled, pulling his phone from one of the pockets to check the time. “Sun won’t come up for another hour and a half yet. I am all yours ’til then.”
“I talked to Foz. He, um”—I downed the rest of my Coke—“he said you’re free to sleep in until after the hands eat lunch. We’re expecting thunderstorms, so the hands have to ride out and make sure the herd keeps to higher ground. We get some real gully washers in the summer, so we need to check on ’em regularly.”
“So I can stay here with you for now?” He crushed his empty Coke can and tossed it into a bin before lying back. “I get to sleep in? Being your ass slut is going to have an upside?”
“I’ll show you upside.” I captured the moment in my memory, but it wasn’t enough. I pulled my phone from my backpack. “Let me get a picture.”
He covered his dick with both hands. “I’m shocked you’d even suggest such a thing, mister. I didn’t know you were some kind of perv.”
“I’m only taking the half that eats. Smile.” The flash went off, blinding both of us.
As I took a second picture, his grin reached its full power and stopped my heart. My next picture was all blurry because my hands trembled.
“Christ, you’re beautiful.”
He covered his flushed face with both hands and I captured that too.
“C’mon. Gimme that pretty pout again.”
“Fuck you.” He flipped me off.Snick.Frowned.Snick.Glared.Snick.
Since I’d made him self-conscious, I had to capture him every way I could think of—take his picture until happiness lit his eyes again.
At one point, I snapped him looking over his shoulder. He winced and rubbed the muscle.
“Sore?” I asked.
“Little bit. This cowboy shit’s hard work.”
“Let me.” While I rubbed the muscle, he rocked his head from side to side, unwinding. Knots eased. His shoulders came up, effectively pushing my hands away.
“This feels all wrong.”
“How come?” Wasn’t I doing it right? Wrong pressure? Wrong spot?
He smiled shyly. “It’s me who should take care of you.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of.” His words lit the fuse on my temper. “I’m not some helpless—”
“Never said—”
“Don’t you start coddling me too. I can’t stand that.”
I turned away. Shoved my phone back into my pack.
The mood was tanking, even though I wanted nothing more than to stop the world and stay cocooned there with him, forever.
“I wouldn’t evercoddleyou.” His face had lost its color, somewhere.
“I don’t need taking care of.” I felt awful but it had to be said.“I’m not a child or a sick person. I’m not mentally deficient.”
“’Course not. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m a grown man.”
“I heard you.” He pulled his hand away to tear a strip off one of his nails with his teeth.
