Page 28 of For Cowgirls and Kings

“Shit, Dale are you okay? See what you did, Gus? I’m notfragile, just because I’m pregnant.” Stetson’s warm hands run up my arms, and cup the sides of my face. I shake my head, smiling away the pain.

If I ignore it, it’ll go away. That’s what always works with all the other painful things in my life, why would I give up on old faithful now?

“I’m good, how’s your head, Faith?”

“Oh, I’m fine! Barely felt it, I’m just sorry that I hurt you.” I hug her, hoping to eliminate the insecure note in her voice. She melts against me, and I know all is well again.

“Whiskey?” Mateo’s chimes from the kitchen, his voice thick with emotion he’s trying, andfailing,to consume. Seeing this side of him is new, and although I want to hate it because it only confuses me more, I can’t help but find it wildly attractive.

Mateo always had a good family—supportive, hardworking, a mom, dad, and sister—more than most of us in this room really. But I know when we were younger he used to tell me about how no matter how hard he tries he just doesn’t fit in with them. He didn’t care about the money or the image, or the opportunities presented to him because of his last name. All he wanted was a good horse, and cows to work, and I realize I haven’t asked him in all the time we’ve spent together how he feels about taking over his family's empire.

Does he still feel the same way he used to or has that changed? Like the boyish look he traded for the tattooed, suave one he now sports.

What man lies beneath the mask?

Because this sweet one, uncomfortable showing emotion, but having it all the same for friends celebrating their happy life, is the boy I remember. Hidden beneath the man.

Reserved but deep as the ocean.

And if that’s not as confusing as fuck, I don’t know what is.

“I’ll take a small one. Dale? Faith?” Gus looks at usexpectantly, and I glance down at my surprisingly nearly empty cup once more.

From the various guarded looks I always get, I know my friends think I have a problem with alcohol. Which, I suppose, on some level, is what friends are for—to have your back and protect you. Even from yourself. But I don’t struggle with alcohol—I could quit anytime. Hell, I’ve gone off and on for years.

Alcohol helps numb me, and when the emotions are so potent—so violent—like they’ve been for months now, I need a little numbing.

“Oh fuck, why not? I hate getting drunk but it’s a special occasion.” Swiping my glass from the table, I down the few droplets left and stride confidently to where Mateo stands, bottle extended. Faith and Stetson snort in unison behind me, and I just roll my eyes. “Don’t get me drunk and take advantage of me,” I whisper conspiratorially to him.

That was the whiskey talking…yeah, keep telling yourself that.

His lips tip, a smirk pulling at the corners and heat pools in my belly.Also the whiskey.And then he fills my glass once more, not as full as before, but more than I have any business drinking. I’ll drink it, don’t get me wrong, but I know I shouldn’t.

Maybe then I’ll be able to ignore the growing need to be close to Mateo—feel his heat, smell his cologne. If I’m numb, I won’t feel the way my heart pounds in my throat when I’m around him.

He leans in, acting like he’s trying not to spill, and then whispers, the sound barely reaching my own ears. “I make no promises, cowgirl. I have a kiss to redeem.”

ELEVEN

MATEO

December 23rd, 2024

“You lookfunny in the small chair.” Dale hiccups, her flushed face turned up at the ceiling. I don’t even know how she’s looking at me from that angle. I stretch my cramped legs a little, hating how truly small the chair is for my giant frame, and that I got drunk enough I now find myself trying to sleep in it. “Exactly.”

“Are you talking to me or yourself over there?” I grumble, trying to resituate,again. I didn’t mean to get drunk—I don’t like the loss of control, especially around Dale. She already consumes every thought I have these days, and even sober I can barely keep my hands to myself.

But seeing her drunk and carefree, dancing around the living room earlier, had been too much. If I didn’t get drunk, I might have kissed her. Right there, in front of every person who knows us—knows we’re only friends.

Now that I’m drunk, the world tilting slightly above me, I realize just how stupid that had been. If I thought I wanted to kiss her before, it doesn’t even hold a candle to the desire burning through my veins now.

She rolls her head, her black hair unbound, spilling over theedge of the soft couch cushions, some pieces covering bits of her face. My fingers twitch as I fight the urge to brush them out of view. She stares at me for several moments, her eyes glossy and distant, before she snorts and rolls her face away again. “Nope, no way Dale.”

So, herself then.What’s she thinking and why won’t she share it with me?

“Care to share with the class?” I shift again, gripping my jeans where they pinch my hips and push my underwear tighter around my cock. I don’t realize she’s looking at me again until I hear her teeth audibly click shut and see her head shake‘no’vigorously out of the corner of my eye.

In the darkness, where I know she can’t see me, I don’t bother fighting off a smirk. “I’ll wait, Ms. Mendes.”