Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
I was able to be carefree.
What if…
This is crazy and inappropriate and just plain weird, but what if I asked Wyatt for another lesson-slash-date? Just so he can teach me to let go and have a good time with a guy? A fake date would also have the added bonus of making other guys jealous.
My pulse skips a beat when I remember the potluck is coming up. Wyatt wouldn’t be caught dead at such a wholesome event, but every other cowboy in Hart County will be there.
Bet Wyatt looks really good dressed up, but that’s neither here nor there. Does he even own a suit jacket?
I glance at the jug of cider behind my seat. Glance at the clock. It’s only nine, but that’s practically the afternoon on a cattle ranch. Wyatt and the other cowboys have been up for hours at this point.
Dad drops me off at our house. “Try to get some rest, all right?”
“Love you.” I grab my cider, open the door, and hop out of the truck.
“Sally,” he warns, clearly suspicious of my sudden burst of energy.
I look up at Dad with a grin. The warm sunshine pours over my head and shoulders. “I’m getting a second wind.”
“Rest, sweetheart.”
“I’ll see ya later, Dad.” I close the door and scurry inside the house, wondering if my parents have an extra bottle of Jack Daniel’s around.
I don’t know if I’ll actually have the courage to ask Wyatt to be my fake date to the potluck. Just like I don’t know if going through with this dumbass plan will make me feel worse or better.
All I know is, I have to do something.
And I know if I ask Wyatt to get his mid-morning buzz on with me, the answer will be yes. The guy can never say no to a good time.
Come to think of it, he can never say no to me either.
CHAPTER 5
Wyatt
DIAL DRUNK
I’m already grabbing my rope and urging my horse, Joker, into an all-out sprint when Sawyer shouts, “You got her, Wyatt?”
“Oh, I got her.”
Joker and I make a beeline for the rogue calf who’s apparently intent on driving me up the wall today. This is the second time since sunrise that she’s tried to make a run for it.
Joker’s hooves thunder on the hard-packed earth. My heart thunders in time to his stride. I didn’t get near enough sleep last night, but you wouldn’t know it from the rush of hot, urgent energy coursing through my body.
Squeezing Joker’s sides with my legs, I drop the reins and use both hands to ready the lariat I’ll use to lasso the calf. My shoulders and biceps sing as I take the looped rope in my right hand and whip it in a circle above my head. I hear its whoop, whoop, whoop every time it rotates just above my ears.
“Look at that smile!” Duke yells as I hurtle past him. “Boy, that ain’t gonna last when you miss!”
“I ain’t missing!”
I wish I could say I’m not one to brag, but there’s no use lying. I’m the best damn cowboy this side of the Colorado River. No one can outride or outlasso me. Not even my older brother, Cash, who was basically born with a Stetson on his head and a rope in his hand. Too bad he’s not here to see this. He and Mollie went to Dallas this morning to lay the groundwork for the launch of her next boot collection.
A grin splits my face as Joker and I hit just the right distance from the calf. I release the lariat. My heart leaps into my throat as I wait the split second it takes for the circle of rope to land around the calf’s neck. When it lands, the calf struggles, pulling the rope taut. Joker holds his ground while I leap off him with a happy yell.
The calf struggles. She’s strong, but I’m stronger. Ryder hops off his horse, too, and together, we tie up the calf’s legs with another rope we call the piggin’ string. We give her a few minutes to calm down before we let her loose.
By the time we’re done, I’m covered in sweat and out of breath. The cloud of dust we kicked up has yet to settle, making my eyes sting. But the calf has rejoined the herd and is now merrily munching on some grass.
I can’t stop smiling. “Eat that, motherfucker,” I say to Duke.
He rolls his eyes, the side of his mouth curling into a smirk as he trots closer. “You got lucky.”
“He actually didn’t.” Sawyer puts his hands on his hips. “Wyatt came home alone last night. Saw it with my own eyes.”
Ryder stares at me. “Are you sick?”
“Shut up.” I yank off my hat and wipe my brow on my sleeve. “I was tired, is all. Been a long week.”