Page 78 of My Cowboy Freedom
Elena’s eyes flicked to the rearview. Jesus.
Rock leaned forward and said something to her. She turned the radio on to give us the illusion of privacy. Next to my ear, he whispered, “I dreamed you were riding an ostrich. Have you ever ridden an ostrich?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
He took a swig of tea and then capped it. “It’d be pretty bouncy, I’ll bet.”
Just imagining it hurt my balls. “Probably.”
“Why do you suppose I dreamed that?”
“I”—I wiped my hands and mouth with a napkin—“got nothing.”
Rock shot me a goofy smile and that’s when I noticed his eyelashes were longer than a girl’s.
Every so often he’d look at me and start laughing and then I’d laugh too. It was so motherfucking undignified. I could only imagine ’Nando’s reaction to my new life at the Rocking C. He’d tell me to sack up and keep my eyes wide open.
You gotta use your big head, Gorrión. You gotta look out for number one, because nobody else will.
We chased the food with iced tea and ate homemade chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Again, ’Nando’s words came loud and clear.
Anything that seems too good to be true probably is.
“Why do you suppose Elena’s doing this?” I whispered.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Every single person at the Rocking C warned me to stay away from you. Now we’re on some kind of date, and you don’t think it’s weird?”
“It’s not a date.” He laughed. “If we ever go on a date, it won’t be to Bitterroot. Do you have a driver’s license?”
“Sorry. I had one, but it’s expired.”
“No problem. You can get one, though, right?” he asked.
“I need to get either a driver’s license or an ID within thirty days of my release. I was going to talk to the boss about getting a ride into the DPS.”
“Then maybe, if we ever go on a real date, you can drive.”
“I guess I could.”
I didn’t have a car, of course, but we were dreaming there. Making plans the way kids do: Wouldn’t it be cool if...
Nobody ever expects those dreams to come true.
Rock packed the rest of the food away. When he leaned forward to put the basket on the front seat I got a noseful of his aftershave. It was clean and citrusy, and along with the mouthwatering male scent of his skin was starting to drive me crazy.
“You’re staring at me.”
I teased him. “You’re pretty.”
“That’s what’s on your mind. Really?”
His words made me squirm.
“I feel like a dumbass, doing this.” I leaned back into my own space. “Look. I did a terrible thing and I served time for it. I’m not proud of that. What prison does—”
“Tell me.” He forced the answers he wanted with blunt clarity. “Tell me what prison did to you.”
