It was like she took up all the space.
“Nice,” he said, patting the animal on the flank.
“Thanks. Cinderella has a thing for cowboys that are too charming for their boots.”
“I take it her owner does not.”
“No, she doesn’t. Like I said. Taillights. I’m familiar. With cowboys. Do you know what they’re good for?”
“What?”
“Leaving.”
That made him want to do something. Surprise her. Climb a mountain.
Stay.
“That is true. We are very good at that.”
Except, he didn’t leave. Neither did she. Neither of them pointed that out. They just stood there and marinated in the irony.
“You want to get a drink?” he asked.
Her lips twitched, like she was pondering that. “Sure. I’m not having sex with you. To be clear.”
The way she said it was a gut punch. And good thing she wasn’t his type, or his mind might have wandered somewhere it shouldn’t.
“I’m not asking,” he said. “To be clear.”
Her face went scarlet. Well. He’d succeeded in getting something other than a cool, snarky reaction out of her.
Though, he had no idea why he was asking her for a drink. Except they were standing there, right near the gates, cluttering up the space, taking up too much room.
So, obviously they needed to move to another venue. It was the last night in this particular stop on the rodeo tour, and he didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed her before. He didn’t really stand around watching all the other events. He had once, when he’d been new to the game. When things had been shiny and bright and he’d been excited.
At least, in his memory he was excited. It was entirely possible that he was painting the whole thing with a varnish that had never actually been there.
Always easier to look back on the glory days.
Mostly, he had been young and angry, and the adrenaline had felt good.
Now he was old and angry, and the adrenaline made his muscles hurt.
Okay. He wasn’t old. He was thirty-four, but that was getting on in rodeo years. And that was a fact.
Especially when you’d been doing it since you were eighteen years old. It was a lot of years of abuse. More than not.
“Are you old enough to drink?”
Her face went red. “Yes.”
“Okay. I don’t want to be out there buying alcohol for a minor. I don’t have a criminal record, which is a miracle to be honest. So I’d rather not get one now.”
“That’s kind of a surprise. I thought all you guys had a slew of DUIs.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Well. I’m happy to be surprised. I didn’t think your kind could surprise me.”
“What exactly is my kind, Tansey?” He started to follow her out of the arena area and toward the stalls where the horses would be kept until they were ready to load up and head to the next event.
“Smooth talker. Probably never met a woman you couldn’t con out of her clothes.”
“Now, that sounds vaguely predatory. This here being the modern era, I am a huge fan of consent. I don’t con anyone out of anything. Now, if they get a look at me and decide they’d like to take their clothes off, that is another story altogether.”
“Good to know. A respectful womanizer. But a womanizer nonetheless.”
“You do have my number. But then, I don’t go around claiming to be anything other than a bad bet. I assume your daddy did.”
“He thought he’d try to be a family man for a little bit. Didn’t work out.”
“Well. There’s a difference between me and your father, right off the bat. I’m never going to pretend to be a family man.”
“Well, I suppose that’s something.”
He watched as she took all the tack off of her horse—he didn’t figure she was going to accept any help from him. She probably had a million reasons for it too. Something about being independent, he was sure. And while it would be fun, maybe, to engage in that banter, he figured he would keep going in the direction of the unexpected banter. Because he liked it.
He liked talking to her.
