Page 27 of Rope Me, Cowboys

“If we’re not in agreement, then it doesn’t happen,” Sawyer said. “But I think you’re making a mistake.”

The picture of Amber flashed in my mind again, the look she cast me over her bare shoulder, how she bent all the way down to her toes so I could see every inch of her. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. But we couldn’t risk her reputation, no matter what we needed.

“Then it won’t happen,” I said. The legs of my chair scraped across the floor as I stood. “Do whatever you need to do to stop thinking about her.”

22

Amber

I needed to get laid. Instead, I was locked up in a house that was a hundred times worse than a convent. In a convent, I’d be around a bunch of other women, and we’d all be covered head to toe so no naughty thoughts could enter our minds. Here, all I had were naughty thoughts. Could you blame me? I was locked up with three irresistible men who were intent on resisting me, if the next week was any indication.

I hadn’t seen so much as a chink in Waylon’s armor. He’d been especially surly when I mentioned all the tourists I’d seen heading up towards the ski areas.

“I’m just trying to help,” I said lightly, letting my gaze stray towards the empty cabins behind the house.

Even Sawyer met my attempts to flirt with stoic indifference.

The snow remained on the ground, a good foot of it. Instead of turning grey and being pushed into huge sooty mountains, as it was in New York, it remained pure white here. The first day, it blew in swirls across the fields, but after that, a sparkly crust developed on top of it. For the first time in my life, I understood where the term winter wonderland came from.

And it wasn’t from wondering when the slush would stop ruining my boots.

I went out walking every day, trying to cure my blues. I helped with meals and taking care of the house. While the guys were out, I read and looked at Pinterest for decorating ideas, so I could spruce up the house. Maybe I was only going to be there a couple more months, but it wouldn’t hurt the house to look a little more welcoming and less like a bachelor pad. At least they didn’t have calendars with naked girls or beer signs hanging around.

I even started ordering things to decorate. I called Haley every day. But it was lonely as fuck, if I was honest. Despair started to pull me down like quicksand no matter how many times I told myself I was only there for three months, and that their rejection was warranted and not thrice the equivalent of Charlie’s.

After all, Charlie had wanted me back. I’d finally fought through the haze of that night and recovered at least some of the memories I’d blacked out.

We’d gone out dancing, and as Haley’s brother predicted, I’d ended up schnockered. A large, sweaty man in too-tight pants was buying me drinks, which I happily accepted.

“I told you I was going to get laid,” I bellowed in Haley’s ear, draping my arms around her neck as I stumbled against her on the dance floor.

“Um, I’m going to have to veto your choice of de-virgination devices,” she said. “That guy has date rapist written all over him.”

“But I want him,” I moaned. “So it’s not rape.”

“You don’t want him, you want to forget Charlie, and you’re hammered,” she said. “So hammered that they’re going to kick us out if I don’t cut you off soon.”

“I’m not that drunk,” I screamed. “I can still stand on one leg!” And with that, I proceeded to demonstrate by pulling my leg straight up—thanks for those ballet classes, Mom—and hooking my foot behind my head. And then I fell flat on my ass.

A minute later, as predicted, the bouncers asked us to leave. “We should go find Charlie,” I said as I swerved out the door onto the sidewalk.

“You hate Charlie, remember?”

“Oh, right,” I said. “But maybe now that I caught him hooking up with another girl, he won’t have an excuse not to hook up with me.”

A transvestite hooker was standing outside smoking a cigarette, wearing a bandage-sized skirt and red heels even though it was October. “Oh, honey, that’s just sad,” she said, giving me a pitying look.

Haley and I started giggling madly, until the hooker moved further off down the street, casting us disparaging glances.

“But I know him, and I love him,” I said as I fell into a cab with Haley. “Shouldn’t he be the one I give it up to?”

“Shut up or I will hit you,” she said. “The only thing you’re giving to him is more soup burns.”

The cabbie dumped us off at Haley’s, and we ran up to her flat, making way more noise than was necessary. Mark stepped out of the kitchen wearing his boxer shorts, a carton of Chinese food in one hand. “Hey, look, it’s my sister and her drunk friend,” he said.

“Go die in a hole,” I said, heading for Haley’s room.

“Charlie called me,” Mark said behind me. I turned to see him leaning on against the island in the kitchen, digging through his food with a pair of chopsticks.