steer.”
“What?” Zane looked at me confused.
“It’s steer wrestling, not cow tossing. Or you can call it bulldogging, but most say steer wrestling these days.”
“Oh.” He nodded, feigning interest. “I saw you rope the baby cow too. Whad’ya place, like third?”
“Second.”
“Do you get a ribbon or something for second?”
“Cash—well, a check. Over two-hundred today.”
“Dollars?” he blurted, blue eyes widening.
“No, pesos. Of course dollars.”
“Shit. I might have to learn how to rope.”
I laughed. “I got my first rope for my fifth birthday, and lived with one in my hand for years, roping everything I could.”
“You’re not very good if you only got second.”
AJ had finished his grain and was becoming curious about Zane’s leather jacket. I was tempted to let AJ yank on it for that comment. But I grabbed his sleeve just in time, and pulled him away. AJ’s teeth scraped along the metal panel, and Zane shot behind me, holding me in front of him like a shield.
“Shit, does he bite?”
He was so close I could feel the warmth of his body, and I resisted the temptation to lean against him. Well, I leaned back a little. I had to walk before I could run after all. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He could push me away, tell me he was straight, sick Chuck on the fag—that last one was probably the most likely.
“No, but he likes to play with coats while they’re still on people, and probably would have torn your jacket.” I went to scratch AJ, and Zane’s grip tightened on my waist, keeping me where I was.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Zane, what are you doing?”
“It was getting a bit out of hand down there, so I decided to take a walk.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
He let his hands fall, and the warmth of him retreated. I turned and found him looking towards the bonfire near Chuck’s rig, his lips firmly set. He withdrew a bottle from within his coat, unscrewed the cap, and took a long swallow. His attention shifted back to me as he offered the whiskey over. I shook my head. With a shrug he brought the bottle back up to his lips before replacing the cap.
His arm landed over my shoulders, tugging me along. “Come on, cowboy. I’m gonna get drunk, and you can keep me from doing something crazy.”
At least he hadn’t called me God Boy. “Wait, how did I become the designated drunk-sitter?” I ducked out from under his arm.
“Well, I had kinda hoped you’d get drunk with me, but...”
“I see. Get me drunk and have your way with me?” Did I really say that ? I was awfully close to the fire here. For all I knew Zane was rigidly straight, and just toying with me.
He let out a short laugh. “If I wanted a one night stand, it wouldn’t be with you.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
He shook his head, lowering his eyes to the bottle in his hand. “Nothing. It means nothing.” He frowned, uncapping the bottle again.
Before he could take another swig I snatched it away, and took a drink. I handed it back, clearing my throat aggressively to prevent myself from coughing. It wasn’t my first whiskey, but the initial burn of the first sip always made me cough. I was sure looking like a sissy probably wouldn’t impress Zane. Oh my God . How weird that I wanted to impress a guy?
He cocked his head, a smirk playing with his lips. “What exactly does that mean?”
“Just that if you finish the bottle by yourself, I’ll probably end up holding your hair back most of the night. And while some may think that romantic, it’s not exactly the first memory I want with you.” Dang . Where had all that come from? I hadn’t drunk enough to blame the alcohol, but it must have come from somewhere. Did he just give me a sultry look ?
“Me neither.”
Why am I looking at the goats ? I forced my eyes back to Zane’s face. Oh that’s definitely a sultry look . His eyes were so pretty when they weren’t empty or cold. Man,
“What?” Zane looked at me confused.
“It’s steer wrestling, not cow tossing. Or you can call it bulldogging, but most say steer wrestling these days.”
“Oh.” He nodded, feigning interest. “I saw you rope the baby cow too. Whad’ya place, like third?”
“Second.”
“Do you get a ribbon or something for second?”
“Cash—well, a check. Over two-hundred today.”
“Dollars?” he blurted, blue eyes widening.
“No, pesos. Of course dollars.”
“Shit. I might have to learn how to rope.”
I laughed. “I got my first rope for my fifth birthday, and lived with one in my hand for years, roping everything I could.”
“You’re not very good if you only got second.”
AJ had finished his grain and was becoming curious about Zane’s leather jacket. I was tempted to let AJ yank on it for that comment. But I grabbed his sleeve just in time, and pulled him away. AJ’s teeth scraped along the metal panel, and Zane shot behind me, holding me in front of him like a shield.
“Shit, does he bite?”
He was so close I could feel the warmth of his body, and I resisted the temptation to lean against him. Well, I leaned back a little. I had to walk before I could run after all. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He could push me away, tell me he was straight, sick Chuck on the fag—that last one was probably the most likely.
“No, but he likes to play with coats while they’re still on people, and probably would have torn your jacket.” I went to scratch AJ, and Zane’s grip tightened on my waist, keeping me where I was.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Zane, what are you doing?”
“It was getting a bit out of hand down there, so I decided to take a walk.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
He let his hands fall, and the warmth of him retreated. I turned and found him looking towards the bonfire near Chuck’s rig, his lips firmly set. He withdrew a bottle from within his coat, unscrewed the cap, and took a long swallow. His attention shifted back to me as he offered the whiskey over. I shook my head. With a shrug he brought the bottle back up to his lips before replacing the cap.
His arm landed over my shoulders, tugging me along. “Come on, cowboy. I’m gonna get drunk, and you can keep me from doing something crazy.”
At least he hadn’t called me God Boy. “Wait, how did I become the designated drunk-sitter?” I ducked out from under his arm.
“Well, I had kinda hoped you’d get drunk with me, but...”
“I see. Get me drunk and have your way with me?” Did I really say that ? I was awfully close to the fire here. For all I knew Zane was rigidly straight, and just toying with me.
He let out a short laugh. “If I wanted a one night stand, it wouldn’t be with you.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
He shook his head, lowering his eyes to the bottle in his hand. “Nothing. It means nothing.” He frowned, uncapping the bottle again.
Before he could take another swig I snatched it away, and took a drink. I handed it back, clearing my throat aggressively to prevent myself from coughing. It wasn’t my first whiskey, but the initial burn of the first sip always made me cough. I was sure looking like a sissy probably wouldn’t impress Zane. Oh my God . How weird that I wanted to impress a guy?
He cocked his head, a smirk playing with his lips. “What exactly does that mean?”
“Just that if you finish the bottle by yourself, I’ll probably end up holding your hair back most of the night. And while some may think that romantic, it’s not exactly the first memory I want with you.” Dang . Where had all that come from? I hadn’t drunk enough to blame the alcohol, but it must have come from somewhere. Did he just give me a sultry look ?
“Me neither.”
Why am I looking at the goats ? I forced my eyes back to Zane’s face. Oh that’s definitely a sultry look . His eyes were so pretty when they weren’t empty or cold. Man,
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