Page 8 of Sexting the Cowboy
I hand the drunk a paper cup of water. “Sip, not chug. You’ll thank me later.” Then I dig through the cabinet for the little prepack I keep for nights like this—two naproxen, a cold pack, a single-dose eye drop sample. I hand it all over with a stern smile. “When you sober up, use the drops every few hours to keep the swelling down. Don’t rub it. Don’t touch it. Don’t pick fights with strangers.”
He nods, half-conscious. “You’re nice.”
“Professional,” I say.
Reno smirks again. “She was never nice.”
The drunk man mutters something about needing air. Reno helps him up, slow and careful, and for a moment, I see the fainttremor in Reno’s leg when he shifts his weight. He hides it fast, but I catch it anyway.
“You could’ve called security,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Why play the hero?”
He shrugs. “Guy was being stupid, not dangerous. He reminded me of someone.”
I know exactly who he means. He sees himself in the drunk. He always did—any man who used anger as armor, any man who thought liquor could quiet the noise in his head. Any man who was a mirror to him.
He glances around the tent, taking in the setup, the cots, the supplies. “You always hated the rodeo. Too much blood, you said.”
“It pays.”
His eyes flick back to mine, something softer there now. “Good to see you working, though. You were always the smart one.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. “That’s new. You giving compliments?”
He laughs again, quieter this time. “Don’t get used to it.”
The drunk sways between us. Reno catches him easily, his hand steady on the man’s shoulder. I remember those hands—the way they used to feel, calloused and sure, the way they once trembled when he realized what he’d lost.
I clear my throat. “He’s fine. Just keep him out of the sun.”
Reno nods, but he doesn’t move yet. “You look good, Annie.”
I keep my focus on the chart I’m pretending to fill out. “You look…vertical. That’s progress.”
He grins at that, but there’s a flicker of something behind it. “Still funny.”
“Still stubborn.” I shake my head and hand him the packet of naproxen for the drunk. “He can take these once he’s sober. You can take him now.”
Reno’s smile fades into something tired. “Yeah. Okay.” He helps the man to his feet, steadying him again before turning back to me. “It’s good seeing you.”
I didn’t expect that. Not after the bite in his voice, the teasing. For a second, I almost believe he means it. “You too,” I manage. “Enjoy the rodeo.”
He mumbles something I can’t make out, then ducks out of the tent with the drunk in tow. Sunlight spills through the flap before it falls shut behind him.
The air feels heavier once he’s gone. I’m left standing with the clipboard and the echo of a voice I haven’t heard in years.
I try to focus on paperwork. Jaden finishes with his patient and glances over. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Something like that.”
He studies me a beat longer but decides not to push. “I’m getting more gauze from the supply truck. You want anything?”
“Water,” I say automatically.
He nods and heads out.
