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He catches a dozen men eyeing the short hem of a yellow dress. Thirteen, including himself. He irrationally, inexplicably considers it a triumph when he’s the only one who sees it the next morning.
“Who told you that?” How much time do you have? “No one. Just a self-observation.”
“Boy isn’t the word that comes to mind,” he whispers—freaking barely. “I wouldn’t want my cousin’s number either.”
“I'm…” Astounded. Speechless. Dead, possibly. “Confused.”
Teary-eyed because that’s just who I am, unfortunately.
“You wanna share why there’s a pair of panties hanging out of Hunter’s back pocket?”
Turns out, there isn’t a casual bone in my body.
I’m crowded by six-feet-six-inches worth of bonafide cowboy. Poor me.
“You’re not mad at me?” “Yes, actually. I’m furious. I wanted the cowboy for myself.”
“It’s supposed to be good for asthma,” he tells me as I read the label,
“What if he’s already married?” “Sharing is caring, I guess.”
“You’re lucky I don’t shove these up your ass,” the sullen, accented man snips, even as he sifts through the piles of flowers on his stall to find the freshest blooms.
He doesn’t tell her that very last part. He keeps it close to his chest, a secret to hold onto. Something to tell the kids one day, his momma would say.
“What about Gaia?” His smirk burns my skin. “Gaia is a horse, honey.”
But I was never gonna stay without you.
