Page 46 of Sexting the Cowboy
I slide the phone into my pocket. “Good, because there’s nothing to see.”
He pivots, tone easy. “If you ever want to run potential life choices past your friendly neighborhood nurse, my rates are very reasonable.”
“I’m paid up forever,” I say, aiming for breezy. But my stomach does that hollow drop like when a roller coaster pauses at the top.
He hesitates, then sits on the edge of the cot, hands on his knees. “Is it Reno? Is that why he’s been sniffing around? You know you can tell me. I don’t judge.”
“No,” I say, too fast and too sharp. I soften it because he doesn’t deserve the serrated version of me. “No. Definitely not Reno. Not now, not ever.”
“Okay.” He nods once, taking the answer as gospel and wisely not asking for footnotes. “Good. He’s…you know.”
“I know.” I let the two words hold all the old ache and the new hard line. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“Copy,” he says, instantly pivoting. “In that case, did you clock Blaze yesterday? Our favorite agent of chaos? She’s pretty cute.”
“She’s a little young for you, don’t you think?” The words come out before my inner critic shouts, “Hypocrite!” and I try to hide my wince.
“I’m not talking about marrying the girl. Just appreciating her brand of anarchy.”
“And by anarchy, you mean her ass?”
He snorts at that. “Among other attributes…”
I let him fill the tent with talk about Blaze because it gives my hands something to do—restocking gloves, counting ice packs, pretending to tidy the chart drawer.
He’s right. She is pretty. She’s also trouble in the way of people who know their own edges and don’t apologize for them. It makes sense that he noticed. It makes sense every man with a pulse notices her. It should make me think about the ethics of crushes, or the age difference, or a dozen other responsible things.
Instead, it makes me think about her father. Deep voice, steady hands, patience like a muscle. The way his mouth felt on mine, which is a thought I absolutely should not be having right now.
“Annie?” Jaden says, amused. “You left the building.”
“I’m here.” I’m not, but I am. “Keep talking. It’s soothing.”
He obliges, riffing on Blaze’s ribbon collection, the way she smiles like she’s planning a small heist, how she praised his water station yesterday like he’d reinvented hydration. I let him talk for both of us. Through all of it, my brain runs a second track underneath the first. One that involves rope.
I have never been this into someone so fast.
That’s the part that scares me. Not the wrongness that everyone else will point to first—the ex, the father, the tangled last names. Sure, that’s a consideration, but it’s not as bad as the speed of it all. The way a single reel of time can spool around your wrist and tug. I don’t trust fast.Fastturned me into a version of myself I didn’t like when I was twenty.Fastmade me forgive things I shouldn’t have forgiven.Fasttook the critical filter in my brain and set it down in the sink like a dish that could wait.
Buzz.
I resist this one for four seconds and then give in because if I don’t, Jaden will launch into an ode to gluten-free churros, and I’ll hurl a tongue depressor at his chest.
I miss your face looking bossy,the text says.
I snort.I’m always bossy. That’s my default.
I know,he writes.I like it.
I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t grin like a teenager. I text back,You concentrating over there, or are you going to get yourself bucked just to come in here for attention?
He replies,You wound me. I am a consummate professional. Also I might have “accidentally” cut my knuckle opening a gate.
I can’t help it. I chuckle out loud. Jaden glances over, eyebrow up.
“Memes,” I lie.
“Uh-huh,” he says, entirely unconvinced, and flips through the roster like it contains proof. He knows enough not to ask to see the meme. He’s a good egg.
