Page 64 of The Texas Sterling Collection
I looked at the knife, the can, the knife, the can. A puzzle I couldn’t figure out. I gazed at Wyl. “How?”
Wyl shook his head and took both from me. “Pay attention to me so you can do this next time.” With a can in his left hand and knife in his right, he placed the hook under the lip and raised the metal opener to push the blade into the edge of the top, sliding it around the rim with each press. “Easy.”
“The blade looks like a beer bottle opener.”
“And how many beer bottles did we open?” Wyl grinned.
“Okay, smart ass.” I placed my can in the embers next to his.
“I told you I would make a cowboy out of you.” Wyl stuck out his tongue to lick the blade clean before closing the pocketknife and shoving it back into his pocket.
“Ewwww…you kissed me with that tongue.” I scowled.
“Cowboy up, babe. I won’t die from a little bean juice on a knife blade. Later, I’ll show you a few more things I can do with my tongue.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Uh-huh. Tent. You. Me. Naked.”
I grinned. “I think I’m gonna like being your cowboy.”
The beans steamed, and Wyl handed me a spoon. We each put on one of our leather riding gloves, grabbed a hot can, and dug in.
“What do you think of horseback riding?” Wyl asked, a spoonful of beans poised for his mouth.
“I love horseback riding, except my thighs ache.” I talked while chewing the beans.
“You’ll be sore tomorrow, but the soreness goes away the more you ride.”
“The solution is you take me riding a lot.” I nudged Wyl’s shoulder. “Especially if we're naked and a tent is involved.” My spoon clanked against the empty can as I scraped the last few beans.
“I’ll take you riding all you want.” Wyl finished his own beans. “But sometimes we’ll end up in our bed instead of a tent.”
“Our bed. Sounds wonderful.”
“To me, too.” Wyl tossed his spoon into his can. “Let’s wash out these cans and the spoons before I massage out your soreness.”
“Why wash out the cans?”
“Two reasons.” Wyl held up a finger. “One, insects.” Another finger. “Two, we don’t leave litter at the campsite. We take our trash with us. Clean trash is better than dirty trash.”
“Makes sense,” I said. “Now, back to this massage thing. Do all cowboys enjoy a massage to work out the soreness?” An eyebrow arched.
“Uh…no. Only special cowboys who are soulmates.” Wyl leaned over to peck my lips.
We finished washing, and Wyl took the cans and spoons and stowed them in the saddlebag.
I stretched, yawned, and crawled into the tent to undress for bed. “Where’s my sleeping bag?”
“I zipped the two sleeping bags together, making a double to snuggle.” Wyl edged into the tent.
“I like the way you think.”
“Strip naked, cowboy. I want to wrap my arms around your sexy body.”
“Yee-haa!”
Naked, we crawled into the double sleeping bag and wrapped our arms around each other. The fire crackled. The water in the spring gurgled. A few crickets sang their evening songs. I lay my head on Wyl’s arm. The glow of the fire dimly lit the inside of the tent. I caressed Wyl’s face with my fingertips, and as the fire popped again, Wyl flinched.
