Page 12 of Fake Christmas Date Cowboy

“No.”

“You drunk texted me.”

“This morning?” She didn’t feel on top of her game, but she definitely wasn’t under the influence.

“Last night, Belle. You don’t even remember texting me, do you?”

They’d been friends since kindergarten when Belle defended Sarah against a bully on the playground. At that moment, they clasped hands and skipped off to tell the teacher what the mean kid had done to Sarah, and they’d been inseparable ever since. Except Sarah decided to send Belle to a charity event all alone.

Her friend continued, “That text last night was too garbled to make out. I’m not used to drunk texts from you. Other people? Yes.”

She sighed. “I might have mixed alcohols.”

“Oh no. Tell me you didn’t do that. You know that you can’t mix drinks.”

“I remember now.” The dull throb in her head wasn’t getting any better from this conversation.

“You know I bought that ticket for you so you can get out of your rut,” Sarah went on.

“Yes, you wanted me to have a roll in the hay with a cowboy.” Memories of Declan’s hands roaming all over her—his tongue too—hit her brain and chased off any stray wisps of fog lingering there.

“That’s right, girl. A romp with a cowboy is exactly what you need to make you forget all about that idiot ex of yours.”

“I have something to tell you.” Two things, actually, but at the moment, one was more important.

“I’m listening, Belle.”

“There was no hay.”

The squeal in her ear made her tear the phone away from her head. Wincing, she sat up and swung her legs off the low bunk she’d fallen into after the slightly buzzed walk of shame from the garden last night.

“Who was he? Tell me all about him! Please tell me he’s hung like a horse!”

“I’m ending this call now, Sarah. I’m going to breakfast before that group trail ride.” She huffed. “What is so exciting about being on a horse at nine a.m.?”

“Um…I’m pretty sure the itinerary says breakfast is at seven-thirty. That means you’re late.”

If she could flip her friend the bird, she would.

“Who eats this early?”

“People who don’t drink and spend time in the fresh air?”

“Then they shouldn’t be serving alcohol.”

“Go ride a horse, Belle.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But you know you can save a horse by riding a cowboy.”

“I’m really getting off the phone now. Bye, Sarah.”

“Keep me updated on that cowboy! Love you, bye!”

This time she couldn’t muffle the groan. She rummaged through her weekend bag and located riding pants, an insulated top and some thick socks. Then she quickly showered and dressed. Before walking out of the bunkhouse, she added the warm jacket she’d need for a winter wonderland ride.

The sun on the heavy snow was blinding, making her wish she’d packed dark glasses. No such luck. She’d just have to live with her mistake.

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