Page 67 of The Cowboy and the Stray

We sat in the grass for a long time. I stopped worrying about what came next. The only thing I could think of was how the air tasted and the way the sky never went fully dark out here. Calder looked over and caught me staring.

He said, “If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

I thought about it. I’d always dreamed of leaving, but now the idea was weirdly flat.

“I used to think California. Maybe Colorado. Or somewhere with real snow,” I said.

“Still want to?”

I dug my heel into the grass. “Not as much as I used to.”

He nodded. “Guess I’m the opposite. Never left Texas, not once. Don’t even have a passport.”

I smiled, and the edge came off things. The night was perfect, but I wasn’t going to say that out loud. I couldn't ignore the voice in the back of my mind saying Lance was going to show up and ruin everything. But I'd been here for weeks with nothing, so maybe I'd gotten away.

Could I be that lucky?

He rolled closer, enough that I could smell the hay on his shirt, the sweat and salt. His hand brushed against mine in the grass. Not by accident, not this time.

I glanced at him, then at our hands. “You ever get tired of being the tough guy? Being in charge?”

He shrugged. “It’s all I know. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

For once, I didn’t make a joke. I just moved my hand a little, so our fingers overlapped. He looked at me, down at our hands, then back.

I said, “This is the part where someone writes a country song about us.”

He arched a brow. “You gonna do it?”

“I can’t sing,” I said. "But…" I made my best country singer face, strummed an imaginary instrument, and launched into a bad, twangy song about “two sad cowboys under a Texas moon.” By the end, Calder was shaking with laughter, the kind that made his shoulders tremble.

He scooted closer. We were side-by-side now, his arm around my shoulder, mine across his stomach. We lay back and watched the sky. When his fingers traced the inside of my elbow, I shivered, even though it was warm.

He didn't ask for permission to kiss me. He just did it, slow and careful, like he was waiting for me to bolt. I didn’t. The kiss started soft, but turned into something hotter, and then we were making out in the grass like a pair of high schoolers.

His hands moved up my arms, and I let mine slide up his neck, into his hair. There was us and the sound of the creek. I didn’t care about bugs or dirt or if anyone saw us. All I wanted was to keep kissing him until I forgot my name.

Eventually, we had to break. He broke away first, but stayed close, forehead pressed to mine. His hand was on my waist, thumb moving in slow circles.

“I could stay here all night,” he whispered.

“You might have to,” I said. “You think I remember how to get home?”

He smiled but didn’t answer.

For a while, we just lay there, touching, not touching, letting the heat build between us. At some point, I rolled over to grab another flower, but my elbow knocked something in the grass. It was a squirrel, way too close. It hissed and lunged, and I shrieked like a child, scrambling backwards and straight into the creek.

The water was not deep, but it was cold. My boots slid on the bank, and I toppled in, butt-first. By the time I surfaced, Calder was doubled over, laughing so hard he fell backward.

I splashed water at him. “It’s not funny!”

He shook his head, tears in his eyes. “It really is, though.”

I stood up, dripping, and he offered a hand. I was tempted to yank him in after me, but I settled for dignity and let him haul me out. I was soaked, mud streaked on my arms, but somehow it didn’t matter.

By the time we got back to the house, the sky was black, and the lightning bugs were out in force. My ass was squishy, my hair was plastered to my head, and I was happier than I’d been in a long, long time.

We unsaddled Brimstone and walked up to the porch together. He stopped me before I went in.