Page 25 of 11 Cowboys

“Now that’s a hell of a question to leave hanging.”

I turn to find Levi leaning against the porch post, arms crossed, and a slow grin blooming across his face like he’s been waiting for the moment to tease me with it.

“Jesus, Levi,” I exhale. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He strolls over unhurriedly and plops down on the swing beside me. He’s too close, but somehow exactly close enough. He smells like soap and fresh air, his T-shirt clinging to hint at the lean muscle I know is beneath. That messy, dark blond hair of his, which is always one gust of wind from rebellion, is damp and catches the porch light. He looks freshly showered and effortlessly good in the way that scrambles your train of thought and makes your better judgment blink.

He’s one step away from sin, and he knows it.

“I’m not tired enough to sleep,” he says. “Saw the glow of your screen. Figured it was either deep work or a spreadsheet on which one of us has the best ass.”

I snort. “Please. Like I’d put that in writing.”

“Smart woman,” he says, eyes gleaming. “And it wouldn’t be a fair competition unless you saw them all in the flesh.” Then he nods toward the screen. “But that last question, that’s a bold one.”

I close the laptop halfway, heat blooming up my neck. “It’s for the story. The readers will want to know.”

“Sure,” he says, his voice still playful, but something in it shifts, becoming warmer and heavier. “Only the readers, huh?” He rubs his chin, his eyes hinting that he believes a different story. “Still, it’s fair. What are we looking for? I think most of us want to be seen. Wanted. Touched like it matters. Something that doesn’t feel like maintenance sex or a pit stop before ghosting.”

Touched like it matters.That’s deeper than I thought a man like Levi could ever go. I thought that kind of craving for tenderness was more a woman’s domain. I think over my last sexual experiences and how unsatisfying they were, and realize that it has a lot to do with feeling like a pit stop, rather than a destination. Being touched to take pleasure, rather than to give it.

We sit in silence for a beat. Then Levi reaches over and runs a thumb over my knuckles, slow and deliberate. “Youalways ask dangerous questions, Grace?”

I don’t pull away, sensing I’m on the edge of discovering some of the truth I’m so eager to root out. “I ask what needs to be discovered. It’s my job.”

“And what? You want to know… for personal reasons?” he murmurs, eyes on mine.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I say lightly. “Not the woman.”

His grin is as wide as the Cheshire cat’s, and twice as mischievous. “And you make it way too easy to answer, but I bet you didn’t think I’d answer like I did.”

“Oh, yeah. What did I think you were going to say?”

He leans in, eyes fixed on mine, voice like velvet and smoke.

“You thought I was gonna talk about what we like in bed? Positions? Kinks? How many partners at once? Whether this thing we’re building is one-on-one, or everyone, together?”

“One-on-one?” I echo. “There are eleven of you.”

“Exactly, doesn’t sound like much fun, waiting for eleven days for your next turn, does it?”

“So, you don’t plan to take turns?”

My cheeks go molten. Despite the coolness of the breeze, the heat climbs all the way to my ears. His clear blue eyes track the flush blooming across my skin, and the corners of his mouth twitch with satisfaction. He leans a little closer, eyes dropping to my mouth.

For a second, I tell myself to pull back.

I’ve done this dance before.

The flirty banter, the slow lean-in, the breathless pause before lips meet.

I know the rhythm. I know the script, and I know exactly where it leads. There’s a voice in my head, small but persistent, telling me to stop. Telling me that this is what I always do. That deep down, I’m chasing the connection that you can’t get from a one-night stand, and the sexual satisfaction I’ve never felt with a man, but I don’t pull back, because the hollow ache inside me craves to be filled andmy libido is a rabid animal desperate to let go.

Levi’s a man who makes everything look easy, like he was born knowing how to smile just right and how to leave your breath stuck somewhere behind your ribs. He flirts like it’s muscle memory and walks like he knows he’s being watched, probably because he is. Half the time he’s shirtless, and I’d bet good money it’s not accidental.

But there’s something else, too. Something quieter, curled beneath the confidence like a secret he doesn’t think anyone will notice, and maybe no one does.

There’s something in Levi’s eyes that looks like hunger and familiarity wrapped in the same lazy blue.