“Why?” Easton prompts. “Why don’t you get the appeal?”
“For one, it looks…uncomfortable. Covered in dirt all the time, working in extreme heat only to stare at cows’ asses. Struggling through half the day to get a whiff of fresh air instead of inhaling the stench of their shit, bleh. No thanks.”
Laughter bursts from Easton as I look over and smile at him sitting next to me, his own boots propped and crossed at the ankles on top of the dark blue and red-tiled table.
“Where’s the reward? Starry nights of solitude playing “Home on the Range,” next to a campfire with a harmonica?” I shrug. “Seems like a lonely life.”
“Only if you base a cowboy’s life on the few Western movies you’ve seen.”
“First of all, if I’ve ever seen a Western, it was completely by accident—I promise you that. And I mean, hey, I know there’s a lot more to it. Just seems like a lot of work for little-to-no payoff. Some of the folklore surrounding it has got to be true, or it wouldn’t be the standard. Bet you’d dig it, ya loner.”
His smile fades when I reach for my schooner, and he grabs it and sets it next to him on the table, just out of reach. “How about you hold off on that for a second.”
“I’ve only had one,” I defend. “You made me drink four waters between that and this one.”
“For good reason. Just for a minute,” he adds. “Okay?”
“Okay.” I bite my lip as he bends and pulls my chair closer to his, the stifling summer air instantly charging as I run my sweaty palms down my jeans, more sweat trickling down the nape of my neck. “Are you about to start a fight?”
“Is the road anything like you thought it would be?” He asks, dodging my question.
“In a way, but I know there’s a lot more to it.” I saw the warning looks he gave to Tack last night when he relayed a few road stories. Honestly, I’m too terrified to know if Easton has his own to tell yet.
“Okay,” he accepts easily, too easily, as I follow the drop of sweat gliding down his Adam’s apple before it disperses over the top of his cross.
“Tell me why you wrote that article.”
The question stuns me as he lifts my chin with gentle fingers, demanding my focus.
“It was just a what-if type of thing. I never expected anyone to see it.”
“But you wanted me to see it.”
“I wanted you to know I understood your stance, and if I had the chance to plead your case for keeping your private life private, that’s how I would have written it.”
“So that’s why?”
I dip my chin. “Yes, of course. I wanted you to know that I understood.” In my periphery, I see the first longhorns gather behind the fence across the street. “Oh, look! It’s happening.”
I jump to my feet, and Easton slowly joins me before we walk over to the iron partition separating us from the rapidly crowding street. Crouching low enough where we won’t be seen, Easton opts to stand just behind me, my shoulder resting against his chest, his scent surrounding me as heat drips down my back. He whisks one away with his thumb at the top of my jeans, and my lips part at the gentleness of his touch. Hyper-focused on what parts of him are touching me, I try to concentrate on the commotion behind the gate as Easton begins the slow sweep of his thumb along my spine.
Thoroughly seduced and his lips just inches away, my pulse quickens as he pulls the damp hair away from my neck and blows. Closing my eyes, I try to inhale some restraint, refusing to look his way.
“It’s starting,” I rasp out, nodding toward the street, Captain Obvious diarrhea spewing freely.
Easton continues to sweep his thumb along my back as the cowboys make a small show of lassoing ropes overhead and begin to usher the massive steers onto the street. The parade lasts only a few minutes, and I frown before turning to Easton to see his face equally drawn up in confusion. A second later, we burst into incredulous laughter.
“That was so fucking anticlimactic!” I huff as we head back to the table. “Glad we didn’t come out of pocket for that.”
Easton shrugs. “I think it was just about the experience of seeing something so Old World in the new one.”
“I get that, but,” I look around and wipe my brow, “maybe not worth sitting in Texas hellfire for two hours to wait for it.” I lift my hair and wave a hand to cool my neck off.
“But you had fun, didn’t you?”
Our eyes meet and hold. “I always have fun with you.”