Page 33 of Butter My Biscuit

I lick my lips, meeting her eyes. Maybe I have perfected the female gaze over the years. “Guess.”

She takes a step back and places her hand on her chin, like she’s trying to unravel life’s mysteries. “Are you a lawyer?”

“Hell no. It takes a certain kind of person to do that work.” I laugh and immediately think about Stephanie.

“You’re a financial adviser.”

I shake my head. “You’re ice cold, River. Maybe I’m a bartender, like you?”

“Bartender?” She laughs. “Babe, Iownthis place.”

“Shit, girl. You’re a boss babe?”

“Better believe it. This was my dream.”

“Ahh. Whiskey River makes a lot more sense now. But, wow, that’s … incredible. I’m impressed.”

“What about you? A rodeo clown?”

This makes me snort. “While that would be a fun-ass job, I’m a horse trainer with my older brother. In West Texas. A little place called Valentine, about twelve hours that way.” I point behind me.

She narrows her eyes. “Wait.No.”

“What?”

“Are you that guy who went viral, like millions and millions of views?”

I give her a puzzled look, even though I know exactly what she’s talking about.

“There was this video of this guy who was teaching this influencer how to ride a horse, and she totally made him into a thirst trap. Wait a second.”

She opens her phone, scrolls, and then she opens the video. I hear my voice, and her eyes widen.

“Itisyou!”

I shrug. “I guess it is.”

“I’m shook right now,” she says. “One night, I stayed up and read the comments on that post. Nearly pissed myself. Did all that exposure change your life?”

“Business ain’teverbeen better.” I give her a shrug and down the rest of my whiskey. “I had a few talent agents contact me, but bein’ a cowboy isn’t a costume to me; it’s a way of life.”

“Wow. I cannot believe we have a celebrity in here right now. Can I take a picture with you?”

“Sure.”

River pulls out her phone and takes a few pics, then turns it around to let me see. “I can’t wait to show my sister.”

“Oh, stop. You’re gonna make me blush.” My tone drops as she hands me her phone.

She wroteHarrison, the Cowboyfor my contact, and the cursor is in the space where I need to put my number.

I meet her eyes. “Distance ain’t an issue for you?”

“Nope.” She tucks her lips into her mouth.

I program it in and hand it back. She immediately texts me.

“Got you,” I tell her.

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