Page 30 of Crystal Iris #1

Twenty-Four

“Passion is one great force that unleashes creativity, because if you’re passionate about something, then you’re more willing to take risks.” – Yo-Yo Ma

A couple of weeks pass. I stay busy with the horses in the morning, getting more attached to them every day. I’m almost ready to ask for riding lessons.

After my chores, I often walk or do yoga. My body is getting stronger with my new routine, even though I barely make it to the gym.

My afternoons are filled with books and helping Hoyt with paperwork in his study.

Things are moving naturally; I’m starting to feel…

at home. I even started helping Hoyt with dinner, even though all he lets me do is chop and stir.

We can’t hide it anymore—we want to be around each other as much as possible.

Living surrounded by nature is also doing wonders for my mental health. I’ve never felt so calm, so… in control of my feelings.

I’m done with Broc and his tasks when I notice how perfectly the blue sky looks.

It’s the ideal day to bring my mat outside.

I quickly change into my yoga clothes and head outdoors for a flow.

I unroll my mat on the grass and start moving through my salutations.

I’m a little sore, and it feels great to stretch my hamstrings and back muscles.

I begin repeating the routine when I notice Hoyt watching me. I think about stopping, but something inside me insists I keep going. I make sure to hold certain positions longer, just for fun . He doesn’t move or say anything. When I finish, I cross my legs and take a sip of water.

“There’s a better view of the lake on the other side of the house,” I say to him.

“I’m pretty sure this is the best view there is.” He starts to walk away but looks back to say, “I didn’t know you were that flexible.”

“You have no idea how… flexible I can be.”

I hear him mumble a curse as he walks away.

I enjoy teasing him. I still think about his hands on me, every night, like clockwork. The more we talk about real things, the more I learn about him, the more I know that taking things slow was the right call.

“Can I take your truck to town today, if you’re not using it? I need clothes,” I ask Hoyt at breakfast.

“Sure. Do you want me to go with you?”

“Are you offering to come shopping with me?”

“Why not?”

“Because I thought men hate shopping.”

“I’m not particularly fond of it. But I am of you.”

“Are you free?” I ask.

“There have got to be some positive sides to having this kind of money. Let’s go.”

“Now?”

“Why not? Aren’t you done with the horses?”

“Yeah.”

He stands up from the table. He made me pancakes again—this time, only the one kind I mentioned was my favorite from the previous batches.

“What kind of clothes do you need?” he asks me on the way to Whitefish.

“Ranch clothes,” I reply.

He chuckles.

“And underwear,” I add.

He swallows, hard.

I fuss with the radio until I find a good country song I know. I’m starting to get into the genre.

“I would love to take you to a country concert sometime,” Hoyt says, singing word by word.

“I don’t think I know enough songs.”

“We have time,” he says, turning up the volume while opening the windows. I smile. I poke my head outside and let the wind blow through my hair. I could get used to this.

I look around, completely lost at what kind of gear I actually need. There are too many options. Rows and rows of boots, hats, belts… I just want to start wearing my own things instead of borrowing Johanna’s.

I’m holding a ridiculous amount of clothes to try on when he says, “Can you model them for me?” He takes a seat outside the fitting rooms.

“I don’t think you’ll like the sight of me in these clothes. They’re… comfortable.” I open the door for him to see what I’ve tried on.

He smiles. I’m wearing a plaid button-down and jeans. I’ve also put on a new pair of boots—I need another option to switch with the pair I already have.

He’s still looking at me, grinning.

“What?” I ask .

“Nothing. I… I never thought I’d see you in these clothes.”

“Don’t get too used to it. It’s just for the summer.”

“Right.” Something changes in his eyes. My own words make me a little sad too. This thing we’ve got going is ending soon.

“I think I have everything I need,” I say, piling my things on the counter.

“I think you’re forgetting…” He leans closer and whispers in my ear, “Underwear.”

I smile. I was joking when I mentioned it. But now, I would love to see his face when I browse for some.

“They don’t sell the kind I need here.”

I think Hoyt would be uncomfortable when I enter the lingerie store. Turns out, I’m the one who blushes. I remind myself to have fun, to let go a bit.

“Should I model them for you again?” I say, picking a black lacy pair.

“It’s pretty wicked to tell me you want to take things slow, then ask me to come shop with you for… that.” His eyes are hungry—turns out, he does get uncomfortable. He moves quickly, hiding what’s just happened, what’s just hardened.

I smile at him.

“But wicked slow can be… so good,” I say, picking up a red piece.

He runs his hands through his hair and walks out, saying he’s going to wait for me outside.

I end up buying a couple of things.

“I can make spaghetti,” I say the following evening when Hoyt comes back from an equine auction .

“Yes, you can. It’s delicious, thank you,” he says, putting his feet up on the coffee table and swirling his noodles with a fork.

I close my book and ask, “How did it go?”

“Good, great. Picked a couple. Sawyer did good; I was about to offer more money, but he held me back. How was your day?”

“Nice, I needed a lazy day.”

“Really? Are you bored here?”

“No! Of course not, I love it here. Why? Are you tired of me?”

“Iris, I’m serious. Don’t feel obligated to stay.”

“I’m serious too. You can kick me out if?—”

“I would love nothing more than for you to move in.”

“Right,” I say, looking at him.

“I’m serious.”

“I’m serious too. I love it here.”

He pulls out his phone. “Let’s have fun tonight.”

“What?”

“It’s Friday. Let’s go out.”

“Where?”

“It’s live music night at a bar downtown.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Let’s roll,” he says, getting up.

“Okay, give me a few minutes to change.”

“It’s nothing fancy. You can go like this.”

I look at my jeans and shirt. “I don’t know…”

“You look good… trust me. Reaaaally good.”

“Okay,” I say, getting a little embarrassed by the way he’s looking at me. At least he seems just as casual with his baseball cap.

The bar is much busier than I expected. Hoyt has introduced me to a few people, and I realize we’re in a small town where everyone seems to know everyone.

I take a sip of my margarita and look at the stage where a man is playing guitar.

I watch as a couple dances, and I wish for a moment that Hoyt could take me out there too.

“I’m sorry, I wish we could…” he says, gesturing to the dancing couples.

“Oh… it’s okay,” I say, realizing he’s upset.

“Jessie!” He calls over a man wearing a cowboy hat. “Why don’t you show my lady what a good dancer you are? You know, I have two left feet,” he tells his friend, and I’m about to protest when the man comes over.

“Hey, darling, how are you doing? I’m sorry you’re stuck here with this one.”

Jessie’s wife comes over to say hi to Hoyt. They seem to know each other well.

“Hello, I’m Serena, Jessie’s wife.” She extends her hand to shake mine.

“I’m Iris,” I say, realizing Jessie is actually trying to call me over to dance.

“Go ahead, have fun,” Serena says, taking my seat.

I’m lost. Things happen too quickly. Before I know it, I’m being led by Jessie.

“I don’t know this kind of… dance,” I start apologizing.

“Nonsense,” he says, pulling me closer and guiding me along.

The singer seems to like the busy dance floor and starts singing a popular song that even I recognize.

I look to my right and see Hoyt dancing with Serena.

He winks at me and spins her around. He’s not as good as Jessie; even without me knowing the steps, we’re moving a lot smoother together.

Nonetheless, I want nothing more than to switch partners.

I let myself have fun, and by the end of the song, sweat is starting to form on my forehead.

“Let’s get another round of margaritas!” Serena says, calling all of us back to the bar.

“You did good,” Hoyt says from my side.

“You aren’t so bad yourself,” I say, smiling .

He bows and almost spills his drink on me.

“Shit! Sorry,” he says, laughing. I like seeing him happy, in his natural element.

“So, how do you guys know each other?” I ask him, eyeing Jessie, who is tapping his wife’s ass.

“High school,” says Jessie, handing each of us a shot glass.

The song changes, and Serena pulls her husband to the dance floor.

Hoyt and I stand watching them when they call us over. I try to copy the steps everyone is doing, but it takes some effort.

“Are you tired?” he asks me when the bar is closing.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not ready for this night to end,” he says, looking at me.

“What did you say earlier? Let’s roll,” I say, ordering a bottle to go, and he laughs.

Hoyt pulls over by a mountain lookout.

He opens the gate of his truck and says, “I didn’t bring pillows or anything, but I have a jacket.”

He lays the jacket down, and I take a seat on his truck. He sits next to me, and I look around us, at the show the sky is putting on.

He leaves the headlights and radio on, and we share the bottle I picked up on our way out.

“We’re just a few miles from the house, nothing but dirt until there,” he says when I ask about him driving home.

“I guess this is what a country date looks like, huh?” I say to him.

“Yeah, sorry, nothing fancy over here.”

“I don’t want fancy. I like wild and free.”

“Never thought you’d be sitting on my truck bed when I spotted you at that gala,” he says, taking another sip .

“Truck bed?” I ask.

“It’s what this is called.” He pats the part we’re sitting on.

“Oh, I didn’t even know that. Now I’m certain this is what a country date looks like.”

He laughs.

“I bet you take a lot of girls on these kinds of dates.” I’m done trying to be strong.

“Nobody compares to you.”

I look at him. “Thanks for inviting me over, to Montana. This sky is something else,” I say, taking another glance up.

“We should head back,” he says, getting out of the truck bed. I have no choice but to follow him.

“What happened? Why did you want to leave?” I ask when we get back to the house.

“I was about to break the promise I made to you. I told you I’d give you space, respect your wish to take things slow. That was me doing that, before…”

I can’t help but feel mad at myself for putting us in this agonizing situation. I want to say, To hell with slow! But I steady myself and tell him while walking to my room, “Thank you, I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.”