Page 79 of Sexting the Cowboy
In the deepest parts of my heart, I do. I want that. I want this, with him.
The fairgrounds feel too bright for what I’m carrying. Everything is loud and sun-slick. I cut through the lane behind the medic tent, where the light is thinner and cooler, like the breeze has decided to be merciful in narrow places.
I’m almost to the trailer rows when Mac steps out from behind a vendor cart and falls into my pace without asking. She’s got her camera slung across her body, a coil of spare cables bouncing against her hip, and an iced coffee so sweaty it’s dripping down her wrist. “Dr. Pearl,” she says, too cheerful. “Are you speed-walking to perform an emergency tonsillectomy?”
“Wrong department,” I say, but my smile feels stapled on. “Shouldn’t you be filming pre-show B-roll of kids spilling nacho cheese on their chaps?”
“Already got that. Twice.” She matches my stride like she trained for it. “What about you? You look like you’re about to run laps for your mental health.”
“Something like that.”
She narrows her eyes. “What’s going on? And don’t saynothing. You’re doing the thing with your mouth.”
“What thing?”
“The little half frown that says you swallowed a whole thought, and it went down sideways.”
I take a breath that doesn’t do what it’s supposed to. “What’s up with you?”
“Look at you,” she says, bumping my shoulder. “Classic distraction technique. Fine, I’ll go first.” She makes a face that’s half-giddy, half-despairing. “I think I’m having trouble with my girl.”
It takes me a second to shift gears. “Trouble as in…?”
“As in, she was weirdly distant last night. Like she was distracted.” Mac pushes her hair off her forehead with the backof her wrist, then takes a sip through the straw. “We hooked up, and it was good—like, so good I might have to recalibrate whatgoodmeans—but then…she just went blank, almost. Not in a scary way. Just…far away. I don’t know. Maybe it’s her way of not getting wrapped up in a fling. She did say it was no big deal.”
I make a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough. My chest tightens with an irony heavy enough to bend steel. “Could be that,” I say carefully. “Or maybe she has something else on her mind. She’s riding well?”
Mac shrugs. “I think so? I haven’t been able to watch all her rides. I’m working, you know? And when I’m not, I’m trying not to act like a stalker. I like to think I’m classy.”
“You are not,” I say, automatic and fond. My heart keeps beating loud for a different reason. “Ask her.”
“What, like a girlfriend?” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know. That sounds like relationship behavior. And this is just a hookup.”
“If it’s just a hookup,” I say, stepping around a coil of hose some volunteer left like a trap, “what are you so bent out of shape over?”
She huffs, then makes a face at herself. “Huh. I guess you’re right. It’s just—” Her mouth twists. “It’s different with girls usually. They like to talk. With guys, all you have to do is show up and say yes.”
“And?”
“With her, it’s like all I have to do is show up and say yes.” Mac’s cheeks color. She looks past my shoulder. “We don’t talk about much of anything. It’s just sex.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” I ask, which might be the most hypocritical line I’ve said this week.
“No. It’s perfect.”
We’ve reached the break in the trailers where the sun slices in a hard, narrow beam and every dust mote glows like it’s auditioning for a miracle. I stop and put my hands on her shoulders because she’s about to spiral into self-argument, and I don’t have the mental energy to play defense.
“Then what are you complaining about?” I say, looking her directly in the eyes. I mean it as a kindness. I mean it as a shove. Both can be true.
She opens her mouth to argue and finds nothing. The silence lands on her with a thump, and she smiles despite herself, small and abashed. “Nothing, I guess.”
“Good.” I give her shoulders a squeeze and step back into motion before I come apart. “I have to go check up on a patient.”
“Oh.” Her expression rearranges itself into an apology. “I’m sorry. You should have said something. Don’t let me stop you.”
“You’re not.” I try for a smile. “Say hi to your rider and ask how her day was. It won’t kill you.”
She makes a face. “That’s girlfriend stuff.”
