Even with the crowds gathering on the street for the cattle drive, I feel relatively safe we’ll be undiscovered. No one would ever suspect Easton Crowne to be wearing a ten-gallon cowboy hat with the wide brim pulled down just above his Ray-Bans. Not only that, he covered his T-shirt with a western embroidered shirt and finished his look off with black, metal-tipped cowboy boots.
“Your disguise is ridiculous,” I taunt, sipping from my schooner. Easton gives me a pointed look as the fringe hanging from my Dallas Cowboys cheerleader vest dances across the top of the salsa. The traditional long-sleeved colt blue shirt tied just beneath my breasts bares every inch of my midriff down to my low riding jeans, and I find myself thankful for the thousand Easton-induced crunches that fueled my recent workouts.
Adjusting my solid white Stetson, I stretch out my legs to admire my new boots. Boots that cost a pretty penny and won’t go to waste.
The feeling in the air between Easton and me has been breezy since we managed to make it out of Dallas in one piece. With sound check and set up out of the way, we find ourselves with a day’s worth of hours to just be together without the threat of any other outside worries. It’s here we find our groove, with no pressure to define our relationship. My guard is comfortably lowered, even though every passing minute with Easton continues to threaten said guard’s existence.
“Aren’t you going to tell me I look ridiculous?” I ask, gripping the top of the solid white hat currently covering my frizzy ringlets and dipping the brim toward him in proper cowgirl etiquette.
“No,” his grin disappears into his beer as he sips it.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t.”
“Seriously?” I push back my chair and stand, waving a hand over myself with exaggeration. “There’s being nice, and then there’s charity. I spent a fortune on this shit, and I’ll never wear it again. Well, aside from the boots.”
“I would have paid for them, Natalie.”
“But we settled that argument…quick,” I draw imaginary six-shooters from my hips and blow them out, “fast…” I flip and holster my fake guns back at my hips, “and in a hurry, didn’t we there, partner?”
His nostrils flare in response, and I’m pretty sure if he lowered his glasses, I would be on the receiving end of a dead hazel stare. I must admit, it’s so fucking sexy to see him riled up, despite his overall look being completely foreign in nature. Unsurprisingly, it works on him. Then again, the man could decide to wear nothing but a banana leaf to hide his junk and would still look mouthwatering.
“Natalie?” Easton prompts.
“Yup?” I check out briefly, the summoned image of naked Easton and his banana leaf disappearing as I focus on him.
“Worth it?” He asks, his tone full of smug assumption. I blame the heat. Heat makes people crazy. Case in point, I’m parading around like an idiot in downtown Fort Worth playing cowgirl, waiting to see a parade of cows.
“Worth it?” Easton repeats.
“I already decided it was.” I take another sip of my beer. “Oh, I know. I could wear this again role-playing with my future husband, who will be a Dallas Cowboys’ fan.”
He chuckles. “Good luck finding one of those.”
“You better have meant a Cowboys’ fan, not a husband, and blasphemy, sir. That’s America’s team you’re talking about.”
“Only claimed by Cowboys’ fans.”
“I’ll bet you they win the Super Bowl this year.”
“I’ll take you up on that bet.”
“So, you do know football?”
“I’ve observed enough to know that most people love or loathe the Cowboys, more the latter.”
“Whatever. Cowboys aside, not being a Longhorns’ fan, that would be the true nonstarter. Wha, wha, whaaaa,” I mock in my best game show buzzer impersonation.
“That’s a real tall order, Butler,” he mutters dryly. “Don’t sell yourself short or anything.”
“Hey, grumpy, take a drink. The heat is making you irritable.”
“Or maybe it’s the annoying-as-hell, buzzing, blue bee that can’t seem to sit still.”
“Fine,” I sigh, “The show’s over, but just know you missed the grand finale,” I tease, reclaiming my seat and discarding my hat. “Today is a good day.” I take another sip of my beer, the light buzz filtering through me as I soak in an authentic Texas experience with my favorite rock star. “Though, I don’t get the appeal of this lifestyle.” I glance through the iron bars, which sit just below lined planters full of thick green ivy, and spot two cowboys mounting thoroughbreds across the street dressed in full riding gear, chaps included.