punishment.
“You want me to try to be more of an ass? I can do that. I spent years perfecting it.”
I laugh.
He motions to a set place at the table, where the food’s already piled high on the plate. “Sit,” he says. He sits opposite me and smiles. He’s showered and clean and I can smell his fresh aftershave. His hair is still damp and wavy. In the light of day, I see his eyes are framed by laugh lines and long lashes.
I quickly shift my gaze to the plate because I have an urge to lean across the table and kiss him. Again. “This is a lot of food.”
“We’ve got a lot to do today.”
I take a tentative bite. Oh, man. It’s good. The eggs are kind of spicy, like he threw some cayenne in there. The bacon’s thick and crisp. The toast is delicious, and I suspect it’s made from homemade bread. “Cooper?”
“Yeah?”
“What are we doing here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you always bring women back home on the second date?”
He looks out the window and…Oh my God! I think he’s blushing. “A meteor shower is pretty tough to top,” he says.
“So you bring me here?”
“I wanted to take you someplace you’ve never been before. The only place I could be sure of was here.”
I don’t believe him because he can’t seem to look at me. But I don’t press it.
“Plus,” he adds, speaking through a mouthful of toast—just like I was the other day with my pie. “Ever since Denny mentioned it, I’ve been itching to see you up in a saddle.”
“Horseback riding?” I ask. I don’t think that’s what Denny was implying when he said I needed to get back in the saddle. I’m not even sure that’s what Cooper’s referring to. The possibility of either saddle—whether literal or figurative—is daunting.
“You don’t have an aversion to horses, do you?”
“Oh no, I love them. It’s just, the last time I was on a horse, I was twelve.”
“Perfect,” Cooper says. “That means I can start from scratch and teach you to ride properly. But before we saddle up, there’s something I want to show you.”
Whatever it is he wants to show me, it involves getting in the truck and driving down really bumpy dirt roads. I guess this is the reason you need a four-by-four on a ranch. We’re heading west and the truck finally comes to a stop on the top of a hill. In the wide valley below is a field like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
“Windmills?” I ask.
“Turbines. Thirty-six of them.” He turns the truck off and opens the door. Grabbing a blanket from behind his seat, he carries the bundle under his arm and comes around to my side to open the door. By way of explanation, he says, “The other night I showed you a miracle of nature. Today I want to show you a man-made one.”
We pick our way down the steep hill following a cattle trail through the long rangeland grass. There’s a deep humming and by the time we reach the base of the first mammoth tower, the ground vibrates beneath my feet.
“It’s amazing,” I say looking up. The grey steel of the tower looks impossibly tall—like it’s endless against the blue summer sky. “Is this your land?”
“Yes, but we’ve leased it to the power company. It was Jason’s idea. I thought it was stupid. Just one of the many things I’ve changed my mind about since he died.” He spreads the blanket out on the ground, tosses his hat to the side, and lies down. Just like the other night, he pats the spot beside him. The big difference is, today I can see him. All of him. His face, his eyes, the spot of skin where his shirt is unbuttoned. The snug fit of his jeans.
With none of the hesitation of the other night, I join him. “You have a thing about lying on your back and looking up at things, don’t you?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“Nope.”
We stare in silence at the slowly turning blades. I feel like a gnat looking up at a giant’s pinwheel. Finally I ask, “How tall are they?”
“These ones
“You want me to try to be more of an ass? I can do that. I spent years perfecting it.”
I laugh.
He motions to a set place at the table, where the food’s already piled high on the plate. “Sit,” he says. He sits opposite me and smiles. He’s showered and clean and I can smell his fresh aftershave. His hair is still damp and wavy. In the light of day, I see his eyes are framed by laugh lines and long lashes.
I quickly shift my gaze to the plate because I have an urge to lean across the table and kiss him. Again. “This is a lot of food.”
“We’ve got a lot to do today.”
I take a tentative bite. Oh, man. It’s good. The eggs are kind of spicy, like he threw some cayenne in there. The bacon’s thick and crisp. The toast is delicious, and I suspect it’s made from homemade bread. “Cooper?”
“Yeah?”
“What are we doing here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you always bring women back home on the second date?”
He looks out the window and…Oh my God! I think he’s blushing. “A meteor shower is pretty tough to top,” he says.
“So you bring me here?”
“I wanted to take you someplace you’ve never been before. The only place I could be sure of was here.”
I don’t believe him because he can’t seem to look at me. But I don’t press it.
“Plus,” he adds, speaking through a mouthful of toast—just like I was the other day with my pie. “Ever since Denny mentioned it, I’ve been itching to see you up in a saddle.”
“Horseback riding?” I ask. I don’t think that’s what Denny was implying when he said I needed to get back in the saddle. I’m not even sure that’s what Cooper’s referring to. The possibility of either saddle—whether literal or figurative—is daunting.
“You don’t have an aversion to horses, do you?”
“Oh no, I love them. It’s just, the last time I was on a horse, I was twelve.”
“Perfect,” Cooper says. “That means I can start from scratch and teach you to ride properly. But before we saddle up, there’s something I want to show you.”
Whatever it is he wants to show me, it involves getting in the truck and driving down really bumpy dirt roads. I guess this is the reason you need a four-by-four on a ranch. We’re heading west and the truck finally comes to a stop on the top of a hill. In the wide valley below is a field like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
“Windmills?” I ask.
“Turbines. Thirty-six of them.” He turns the truck off and opens the door. Grabbing a blanket from behind his seat, he carries the bundle under his arm and comes around to my side to open the door. By way of explanation, he says, “The other night I showed you a miracle of nature. Today I want to show you a man-made one.”
We pick our way down the steep hill following a cattle trail through the long rangeland grass. There’s a deep humming and by the time we reach the base of the first mammoth tower, the ground vibrates beneath my feet.
“It’s amazing,” I say looking up. The grey steel of the tower looks impossibly tall—like it’s endless against the blue summer sky. “Is this your land?”
“Yes, but we’ve leased it to the power company. It was Jason’s idea. I thought it was stupid. Just one of the many things I’ve changed my mind about since he died.” He spreads the blanket out on the ground, tosses his hat to the side, and lies down. Just like the other night, he pats the spot beside him. The big difference is, today I can see him. All of him. His face, his eyes, the spot of skin where his shirt is unbuttoned. The snug fit of his jeans.
With none of the hesitation of the other night, I join him. “You have a thing about lying on your back and looking up at things, don’t you?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“Nope.”
We stare in silence at the slowly turning blades. I feel like a gnat looking up at a giant’s pinwheel. Finally I ask, “How tall are they?”
“These ones
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