Page 41 of For Cowgirls and Kings (The Trauma Bonded #2)

THIRTY-THREE

ADALENE

“Hey, can you come with me for a minute?”

I lift my head at the sound of Mateo’s voice filling the doorway. I eye him wearily, feeling both excited and nervous by his presence. The last week he’s been busy with meetings and things around the ranch, and we haven’t gotten to talk a lot.

Much less pick up where we left off, the tension growing more palpable by the day. Does he regret it all?

I set my book down, Tut chirping as it bumps against him. “What’s up?”

His eyes soften, and he just nods over his shoulder in a follow me motion.

Without waiting for me, he strides from the room and I scramble behind him, curiosity greater than reservation.

We get to the front door, and he pulls an oversized denim jacket from the closet, extending it in my direction.

I grab it, pulling the fabric around me, with it the overwhelming spicy smell of him.

“Put on your riding boots.” He pushes them at me, and I slide into them.

“Where are we going?” I ask, caught off guard but not entirely unhappy by his demands.

“What good is being a millionaire rancher with top of the line horses, if we aren’t going to ride them?”

I pause, my eyebrows pushed together as I look at him. “You mean, you ride your own horses?”

He rolls his eyes, plunking a worn cowboy hat over my hair. It’s big—the brim falling over my eyes, and the strong smell of sweat floods my nostrils. But I’m secretly preening at the idea that I’m wearing his hat.

I flick my eyes up at him, and cock my hip, “I’ve never seen you wear a cowboy hat.”

“I don’t unless I’m actually working, doesn’t fit my mafia image.” He winks, and I have to roll my eyes to keep them from shooting hearts at him like daggers.

It’s disgusting how desperately I want him. Especially when I can’t tell what he wants from me.

We walk into the barn, and two horses, already saddled, stand waiting for us, making me smirk. “You ride them, but you don’t saddle them?”

“Do you ever get tired of being a smartass?”

I pause, quirking my lips, and then shrug. “No.”

“Get on,” he grumbles, but I don’t miss the laugh he’s trying and failing to hide.

“Yes, your highness.” I walk up to the smaller of the two horses, a bay with a white swirl beneath his black forelock.

His eyes are wide but soft, and I have to fight back the sudden need to cry.

I’ve been so wrapped up in just surviving, I forgot what it felt like to be happy, at peace—anything besides angry or broken.

I miss Chuck, my students, and my friends.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Mateo asks as he climbs into the saddle of his own horse—an enormous grey gelding who’s hooves are bigger than anything I’ve ever seen.

“I miss margarita’s,” I state, settling into the saddle, brushing a hand over my horse's neck before kissing to him to move forward and out of the barn.

Mateo follows behind, silent for several minutes. I close my eyes, listening to the sounds of life around me, hooves against the gravel, my own steady breathing. Tears threaten to fill my eyes once more and I shake my head.

“I want to be happy,” I confess, opening my eyes as we round a corner, a field unfolding before us. The grass is still brown, but small sprigs of green are beginning to peek through and I can’t help but feel a metaphor for my life in there somewhere.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” Mateo finally states, and I turn to look at him, confused. “I mean, I want you to be happy. There’s nothing I want more, I just don’t know how to help.”

I suck in a deep breath, turning away before I snap. None of this is his fault. “I don’t need you to fix me,” I whisper, eyes trained on the fence running for miles into the distance.

I hear his horse trot up beside me a second before the heat of his hand settles on my thigh. I flick my eyes down, and then up at him. “There’s nothing to fix. Doesn’t mean I want you to suffer. I want you happy, not different.”

Biting my lip, I continue to stare at his face, noticing for the first time how he’s let the scruff on his chin grow darker. “I don’t know if I know how to be genuinely happy. I’ve always just pretended.”

His hand squeezes my thigh once more, “what kinds of things do you enjoy doing? Besides reading that is.”

What kinds of things do I enjoy?

I raise the reins toward him. “I love riding. I miss Chuck.” He nods, a soft smile brightening his face.

“I guess I enjoy shopping, but a teacher’s salary doesn’t make much room for that.

I love traveling, but again, being a teacher doesn’t give me much time.

I, of course, love spending time with Stetson and Faith. ”

“Why don’t you do something with them soon?”

I nod. “I’ve been wanting to. I just—” I scramble to find the right words. “I don’t want to be disappointing. I can’t pretend to be happy like before. No one likes the sad friend.”

His hand releases my thigh, before wrapping around my fingers gripped around the reins. “Dale, they don’t like you. They love you. And they want to love you, any way you’ll let them.”

A tear steals from the corner of my eye before I can blink it away, and I suck in a ragged breath, shaking my head. I know what he’s saying is true—my friends deserve a chance to be let in.

Biting my lip, I say the first thing I can think of in an effort to change the subject. “Do you fix your own fence, or do you have people who do that for you?”

Mateo’s hand drops, a laugh tumbling from his lips before he kicks the sides of his horse and they jolt forward in a gallop. I let him have a small head start, his grey horse’s strides growing larger and larger.

As I watch him go, I can’t help but feel like a small ray of light is streaking through my bleak existence—like a single ray of sunshine warming a frigid, dark basement— a promise of tomorrow, and a better life, if I’m just brave enough to crawl out of it.

I lean forward, whispering to the horse “let’s go get them,” and then we race after him, and the light he seems to be bleeding into my life.

“Dale, do you want more margaritas?” I look up at Faith’s smiling face, noting the concern lining her eyes.

“Yes please,” I mumble, extending my glass toward her.

Stetson suggested maybe a girls day would make me feel better, and after my ride earlier with Mateo I couldn’t think of a reason not to.

Stetson and Faith were more than eager to race over, tequila in tow—and I’m grateful for the distraction.

Plus this is the first time I’ve drank since, everything , and the numbness spreading beneath my skin is a welcome hum.

I want to open up to them—more like need to. They’re my best friends, my chosen family, so why is it so fucking hard to share my feelings with them? My traumas?

And why is it so easy to share them with Mateo?

Isn’t that fucked up?

“Soooo, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” Stetson asks, her voice dry, face devoid of emotion. Well fuck, I guess she’s done taking my shit—I don’t blame her. I would be too.

Doesn’t make it easier.

“Stetson,” Faith chides, and I have to fight off a smile as her face scrunches into a scowl. It’s adorable.

“What? You’re thinking it, you’re just too much of a little bitch to ask.

” Stetson shrugs, and I watch their faces contort from irritation to restrained laughter.

It nearly knocks the breath from me—seeing my formerly reserved friend banter with another girl, another friend.

If that doesn’t give me hope, I don’t know what would.

It also feels like a punch to the gut. I’m on the outside looking in, and I envy them with a passion that should be reserved for psycho wives and cheating husbands. It burns through me, and I take a giant gulp of the icy margarita in an attempt to cool the fire bubbling in my chest.

“Aren’t you guys cute.” Fuck, that sounded way too sassy to be a joke. Stetson faces me, her golden brows raised behind her black ball cap.

“You can always join us.”

This is why Stetson and I work—always have. We aren’t afraid to have fun and joke, but we also aren’t afraid of being real and honest with each other. We aren’t afraid to call each other out.

“What elephant?” I deflate, taking another swallow causing my brain to ice over in the process.

“You and Mateo fucking.”

I snort, the liquid spewing from my lips and out my nose, burning with its exit. I stare at her smug face, margarita dripping from my chin. Faith giggles, and I turn an equally icy stare toward her flushed face.

What the actual fuck? How did they know that?

“What’re you talking about?”

Stetson rolls her eyes, shifting forward, her hand resting on her bump. She takes a slow, purposeful sip of her virgin margarita, licking her lips. “Don’t play stupid Dale, you’re too fucking hot to ruin your badass reputation by acting dumb.”

There’s a complement somewhere in there, I just know it.

“We’re just friends.” I sigh, taking another sip. Her eyes narrow on me.

“Sure, but like, friends who fuck.”

There’s no point in denying it. And honestly I don’t want to.

I want to talk to someone about it. I want to know why we did it and he hasn’t touched me since.

I want to know why I thought I could handle being the girl who loses her virginity to her friend, who’s been her savior, who was her first kiss, who she’s also kind of living with.

I want to know why I can’t stop thinking about him.

“Fine. But it was just one night,” I concede, and before I can get the words fully out, Faith’s squealing, burying her face in her hands.

And I thought I was innocent.

“And?” Stetson asks, as if she’s discussing the weather. It’s maddening. Is this how she felt when I was pushing Gus on her? Asking her about him? God, if Stetson came in and started flirting with Mateo right now, I don’t know if I could contain myself the way she did.

“And what? It’s just sex.”

“Dale,” she barks and I sigh, the need to talk overtaking my stubborn need to remain private.