by M. E. Carter
Letting go of that breath, I feel nothing but relief. “Thank you, Joie. It’ll be nice to have a night off.”
“And,” she singsongs, “this way you can go on a date with that hunky cowboy you’ve been seeing. Maybe you should pack an overnight bag. Just in case.”
My jaw drops open at her insinuation because, holy cow. I could get some sex.
I start making a mental list of what I need to do before this weekend. Pedicure. Bikini wax. Rewind the clock and spend two years in the gym prepping for this opportunity.
Okay, so hindsight is 20/20, but at least I can get the nails and waxing done.
“Greer?” Joie’s voice cuts through the line. “So that’s a definite yes?”
“Yes!” I practically yell making Joie laugh again. “I mean, that would be great, thank you.”
“That’s what we’re here for, Greer. It’s why Jack was hoping for so long that you would move close. We know how hard it is… well, Jack does. I haven’t been around very long, so I’m just now learning what it all entails. But I’m guessing the last date you had was last month when Jack babysat? When you went dancing?”
I bob my head from side to side because she’s right, but she’s wrong, too. We talk on the phone every night and we’ve seen each other at least twice a week for over a month. Sometimes it’s lunch. Sometimes it’s a matinee. Sometimes it’s a coffee. But lately it’s always ended with a make out session. Depending on where we are, maybe even some heavy petting. Of course I don’t tell Joie any of that.
“The last time we went out at night was then. But Ace has been really sweet, trying to meet up during the day sometimes, too. He has to come to town for supplies and stuff about once a week, so we try to do lunch. He took me to get snow cones at this really great little shack on the side of the road.”
“Oh I’ve seen that place! I wonder if they’re still open.”
“Nope. Closed for the season. I wanted to take the kids the very next day but they were already shut down.”
“That’s a bummer. Now I’m craving a snow cone.” I can’t help the giggle that bursts out of me. Partially because Joie is funny, but mostly because of the nerves that are suddenly over taking me.
Am I ready for this? Am I ready to spend the night with Ace? I think I am. I like him that much. But it’s been so long. Surely it’s like riding a bike, right? Well not a bike, but like riding…
I giggle again because, twelve-year-old boy humor.
“Um, that wasn’t funny?”
“What? Oh. Sorry, Joie. I got lost in my thoughts. What did you say?”
“I asked if noon was too early to pick them up. I’ll take the kids to lunch and maybe we can walk around the tailgating party in the parking lot before the gates open for the game?”
“Yeah. Yeah, noon would be fine.”
“Okay,” she announces. “I’ll pick them up then. And Greer,” she adds. “Enjoy taking some time for yourself. Even if you don’t go on a date, you’re not allowed to work.”
How is it possible for her to know me that well, already? My automatic instinct is to always work when I don’t have to keep a close eye on anyone else.
“I promise,” I reply. “I won’t work. I’ll take a nice, refreshing nap instead.”
We work out more of the details, like how the kids need to dress for the game and the medications Oli is taking. When we hang up, I stare at my phone for a while, thinking.
Am I really going to do this? Am I going to make the first move?
No. I don’t want to be presumptuous. What if Ace already has weekend plans?
But what if he doesn’t?
Decision made, I grab my phone and open my text messages.
Me: My brother and his girlfriend are going to keep the kids Saturday night. You wouldn’t happen to already have plans would you?
Placing my phone back on my desk, I nod once and mentally pat myself on my back for being cool about all this. While I wait, this is a good time to get back to editing. I’m not sure I can be engaged enough in the story for it to feel as scary, so I continue reading.
As soon as I make it to the bottom of the stairs the door flings open and Pumpkin, our cat saunters through.
Lowering my bat, I lean down to pet him. “What are you doing you silly cat. Are you the one making the noise down here?”
Out of nowhere, I hand grabs the back of my neck and…
“Ah!” I jump out of my chair and scream when my phone pings. “Dammit! Is that going to happen every time?”
Picking up my phone, I’m still breathing heavily as I open the text. It’s from Ace.
Now I’m breathing heavily with anticipation about what he’s going to say, not just because White Christmas isn’t buffering my fear factor at all.
Stupid, useless Christmas carols.
Ace: I have no plans at all, unless you consider taking you out as plans.
Me: If that’s your way of asking me on a date, I accept.
Watching the three little dots start and stop, my anxiety ratchets up a notch. Is he thinking the same thing I am? Is he just busy and I’m distracting him? I want to distract myself from waiting for whatever it is he’s about to say, but I’m not sure continuing with this edit while the kids are gone is a good idea.
I snort a laugh at my own ridiculousness. Because waiting for my teenaged children to come home and protect me from the hand that just grabbed her at the bottom of the stair case makes so much sense. Besides, I should be able to finish this in the next few hours before they come home right? I’m on page…
“Fifty-seven of one hundred and eighty?!”
Groaning, I lean back and look at the ceiling again. Why did I think this was a good idea? It’s going to take me three more days to finish at this rate, and I’ll have nightmares for twice that long.
My phone finally alerts me of another text.
Snatching it up as fast as humanly possible, I have to read it three times to make sure I’m not seeing things.
Ace: Would it be presumptuous of me to ask you to pack an overnight bag?
Biting my bottom lip, I try really hard not to squeal with excitement. Ace wants me to spend the night.
I’m going to have sex.
I think.
Well, crap. Now I’m being presumptuous.
Me: Not presumptuous at all.
Ace: Good. I’m in the middle of cleaning stalls right now, but I’ll get with you later tonight to work out some details, if that’s okay with you.
Me: Perfectly okay. Talk to you then.
Placing my phone back down, I’m practically giddy with excitement. I don’t know what will happen Saturday night but it never hurts to plan ahead.
Pulling up Yelp, I scroll until I find what I’m looking for, pick up my phone again and dial the number.
“Um, yes, I’d like to schedule an appointment for a bikini wax,” I say when the receptionist picks up.
Nope. Doesn’t hurt to plan ahead at all.
Sliding my phone back in my pocket, I’m grinning from ear to ear. I’m excited to be taking Greer on a date this weekend, and honestly, I’m excited about the possibilities that go along with her spending the night, too. The idea that she likes me enough to want to sleep with me makes my heart swell and my jeans tight.
As I keep mucking, I go through ideas of where we can go. I keep coming back to the same thing, though—the rodeo.
I want to introduce her to anything and everything that I enjoy. I want to know if they might be things she enjoys, too. I want to show her that the life of a cowboy can be fun and exciting and it’s not just… well, slinging shit like I’m doing now. Besides, she looks amazing in jeans and cowboy boots.
Oh lord. I’m turning into a pansy.
The sounds of squealing and scraping across the floor of the back room catches my attention. “What the hell?” I prop my pitchfork up against the stall wall so I can go investigate.
Rounding the corner into the large room we use mostly as storage, Pedro
is grimacing as he pulls on the machinery.
“What are you doing with the mechanical bull?” I call out.
Just seeing it in all its rusted glory brings back memories. The two of us used to practice on that thing every day, when we were in our bronc riding days. Dreamed of hitting the rodeo circuit, winning every competition, and impressing all the ladies, so practice is all we did when we weren’t working the farm.
That was twenty or so years ago, before our dreams changed and other priorities took over. And the spiderwebs overtook the mechanical bull.
He relaxes and wipes his sleeve across his brow. “Good. You’re here. Grab the other end and let’s get this sucker set up.”
Sauntering to the back of the machine, he glares at me when I end up in the “push” position, meaning he has to “pull” again. His own damn fault. He should have moved faster.
“On three. One, two, three.” We both groan as we put all our strength into moving it across the floor to the center of the room. “You didn’t answer my question,” I say with a grunt. “Why are we doing this?”
Panting after getting it in place, he wipes he brow again before answering. “If I’m gonna climb on Rockette any time soon, I need to be prepared for her to buck.”
“Rockette?” I question.
“My mare. Named her for her mean high kick,” he says with a grin, like this is funny.
Normally, I might find humor in the name he’s come up with for that holy terror, but not this time. This time I narrow my eyes, hoping to convey how I really feel. “That mare just about killed you.”
He makes a noise like I’m being ridiculous. “She didn’t about kill me. Bruised a couple ribs, that’s all.”
“And gave you a concussion.”
“Which wasn’t severe and I’ve already been given the green light to get back to normal activity.”
I continue glare at him, hoping he feels the weight of my displeasure over this turn of events. I don’t mind her still being here. She’s had a hard life. Her scars are proof of that. There are worse things than an old horse living out the last of her years being properly fed and housed. Trying to turn her into a work horse, though, is entirely different.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Pedro says softly, not looking up from underneath the rig as he messes with it. “I know you think it’s a dumb idea and I’m off my rocker. But I’m telling you Ace, she has so much potential to be amazing. I won’t get on her before she’s ready. I just want to get some of my muscle memory back for worst case scenario.”
I sigh and move my head around, stretching my neck muscles. I trust Pedro to know what he’s doing. But it also scared the hell out of me when he was kicked. For a few seconds, I honestly thought he was dead. He’s my best friend. My right-hand man. Basically my brother. If I had lost him, I don’t know what I would have done.
There are two different emotions battling inside me—the one that trusts he knows what he’s doing and I need to let him make his own choices, and the one that is terrified something bad will happen.
Before one of them can win out, he’s back to his normal, fun-loving self.
“Got it!” he shouts victoriously as the machine hums to life. “Let’s get all these mats set up so we can try her out.
As much as I don’t agree with this, the thought of getting back in this saddle after so many years does sound fun. Sure, it’s been a long time since I’ve ridden anything harder than a fast gallop across the field, but it can’t be hard to get back into the groove.
It takes a few minutes to find all the mats that have been hidden behind various supplies and tools over the years. Its takes even more time to drag them out, set them up and make sure everything is secure. It’s definitely not a two-man job, but I don’t think either one of us is ready to let anyone else know what we’re up to. Just in case it doesn’t go as well as planned.
Coughing from all the dust that’s been disturbed for the first time in twenty years, Pedro seems to have a change of heart.
“You’re up, Ace. Climb in that saddle and let’s see what you can do.”
My eyes bug out in disbelief at how easily I got suckered. “What the hell are you talking about? This was your brilliant idea.”
“Yeah, but I practically broke my ribs a few weeks ago,” he spouts off.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I refuse to fall for his shit. “Funny how you’ve been coughing for the last ten minutes with no pain at all.”
He looks at me, then forces a cough for the sole purpose of fake grimacing. “Ow.”
Still not falling for it. “Weren’t you just spouting off how you’ve been given the all clear by your doctor?”
“It’s not the doctor I’m worried about.” Making it clear he has no plans to saddle up, he positions himself behind the controls instead. “My very pregnant wife would kill me if she found out I was out here doing this.”
I pause, considering my options. I don’t agree with us practicing so Pedro can climb back on the horse that damn near killed him.
Then again, this machine isn’t a crazy-ass mare. It’s a mechanical bull that we can control. And it looks like it’d be fun.
Pedro seems to tap into my conflicting thoughts, so he digs the rhetorical knife in just a bit. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re too old and frail for this.”
Shooting daggers, I argue, “I just turned forty this year.”
He shrugs. “Over the hill, man.”
Grumbling about what an asshole he is, I stomp over to the bull and climb on, careful to make sure the stirrups aren’t worn through. After slapping the dust off the thick reign, I nod at him once. “Don’t get too crazy. This thing hasn’t been turned on in over a decade.”
“Understood.”
Raising my arm in the air, giving the signal that I’m ready to ride, Pedro starts me off nice and slow. I use my muscles every day when I ride across the pasture or round up cattle. But it’s been a while since I’ve had to adjust my body according to the jerky twists and turns of a bucking anything.
Turns out, Pedro is right. Muscle memory seems to come back relatively quickly.
Spinning my finger in a small circle, I signal for him to give it a little more juice.
Squeezing my thighs together, I push and pull in the stirrups, keeping may balance as we buck and spin, faster and faster, until I feel myself starting to lose control.
I wave my hands in a cutting motion, trying to get him to slow me down. He doesn’t. Instead, he speeds me up.
“Cut it off, Pedro!” I yell.
“I can’t!” he yells back. “It’s stuck!”
That’s not good. I have two choices. Either ride it out or let myself be thrown. The mats are soft, but I have too much pride for that. Riding it out it is, with an extra helping of hope that Pedro will fix the problem quickly.
Hanging on for dear life, I strain to keep myself upright. Lean back, push up, hold my form. I’m doing better than I thought I would, mostly out of necessity and not fun, but finally it’s just too much. I feel myself lose control and slide to the side.
One quick jerk to the right and the hind of the bull pop me upright, through the air, landing so far back I almost miss the mat and hit the floor.
As I pull myself to a sitting position and shake the dust out of my hair, all I hear is Pedro busting a gut.
“I never knew you could fly that far,” he ribs, still fighting with the control panel.
“Shut up, asshole. I told you that was a bad idea.”
“But it was fun, right?”
He’s got me there, whether I’ll admit it to him or not.
“Think you can fix it?” I finally ask once the machine sputters and dies.
Climbing on his hands and knees to look at the electrical wires under the device, he shrugs. “Probably just needs a little tweaking.”
“Good. Work on that when you can.”
“On it boss,” he says with a smile.
He thinks that my caving means he pul
led a fast one on me. What he doesn’t realize is I just can’t wait to take over the controls and return the favor.
“Bye! I love you! Have fun!” I yell out the door, waving like a maniac as the kids drive away. They’re not even paying attention. They’re teenagers. But I’m barely keeping my nerves in check as it is. If yelling my affections at my children while they drive away is what works, so be it.
Eventually, they’re out of sight and I have to close my front door. Leaning back against it, I close my eyes and take a series of deep breathes.
Tonight is the night. Tonight, I’m going to take the bull by the horns and enjoy the physical affections of dating.
Even in my head, that pun sounds really cheesy and over the top, but it’s been a long time. If I’ve learned anything about Ace over the last few weeks it’s that he’s extremely old fashioned and respectful. He won’t push me. He won’t pressure. And if I change my mind, he’ll back off. I know this with every fiber of my being.
No, what I’m the most nervous about is the prep for tonight.
Glancing up at my wall clock, I cuss under my breath. If I don’t book it I’m going to be late for my very first bikini wax. I’ve always wanted to get one, but never got around to it. It seems easy to just do a quick shave in the shower as needed. But with a new house, a new dating life, and some new-found freedom courtesy of my big brother, I might as well try something new. Especially since I got a discount. Aren’t Groupon’s great?
Grabbing my stuff, I race out the door and into my car, setting the GPS to guide me to the salon.
It only takes a few short minutes to reach the parking lot, not nearly enough time to get my nerves under control. But then I think of my plans for the evening and know I’m doing the right thing. Showing my hoo-ha to a total stranger for the purpose of ripping out my pubic hair is absolutely the right decision.
I giggle at my own ridiculousness and clamor out of the car before I go completely off the deep end and talk myself out of this.
