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The bartender, a nice man named Edgar who did, in fact, play third base on my dad’s baseball team, gives us a smile.
“So. You show up here to stalk me?” I ask the guys.
The way that they’re looking at me, all three of them, makes my heart pump in my chest.
I need to get laid.
There’s no way that I could be entertaining this kind of a fantasy. I’m not dumb. I know that people have all kinds of arrangements with all kinds of numbers of partners. I just didn’t really ever consider myself interested in that. Until recently.
The drinks come, and Landon holds up his glass. “To twin foals,” he says.
“And the mare who refused to give up on them,” I add.
“And to Nora,” Clint’s voice rings out.
Landon, Shane, and I all look at him. Clint, for the first time ever, looks… embarrassed. He glances down, and I’m sure that if he didn’t have that beard, his cheeks would be red.
“She did a hell of a job in a situation that would scare the shit out of the average person,” he grumbles.
“I’ve grown up on a ranch my whole life, Clint,” I say dryly. “I know how to help when livestock are being born.”
He shakes his head. “Still. That was… it was a lot. It was one of the hardest births I’ve ever seen, and I’ve worked around horses since I could walk.”
That is a strong endorsement, then. It also explains why he has such a touch for the horses. He’s just good with them.
I give him a sharp nod. “Okay then. Good. Yes. Thank you.”
“Well, I’d like to drink. Never thought I’d say that Clint needs to shut his trap and stop yapping,” Landon says.
Clint grunts, but we all drink.
“I could probably guess that you’re not really a talker,” I tell him. In response, he gives me a sharp nod.
“Clint’s a man of few words and strong actions,” Shane says smoothly. “He’s definitely not a talker.”
“You are, though.” I give him a little look.
Shane’s eyes smolder with something that has nothing to do with talking. “I mean what I say. Every time. But if you want someone who likes talking, Landon’s your guy.”
“That I can see,” I laugh.
Without skipping a beat, Landon smiles. “I can talk all night if you need me to.”
“Oh, Lord.” I sip my drink. “Someone come get him. He’s doing too much again.”
“At this point, we just usually buckle up and go bottoms up,” Shane says, offering his drink up in a ‘cheers’ gesture. Laughing, I join him. The four of us down the drinks, and Shane signals the bartender for more.
“So.” Landon leans back, looking at me. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“As you said, it’s the only bar in town.”
He laughs. “That it is. But seriously. Why today?”
I jerk my thumb up toward the stage. “Hard to deny your best friend a chance to hang out when she’s at a show in Jackson Hole an hour away, and she wants to come see you.”
“Kendall Sutton is your best friend?”
The drink comes, and I take a little sip. “Yes. Ever since she told me I was going to fail English Comp 101 unless I got my shit together.”
