Wild for You

by Daisy Prescott

  “Forget the bucket. We need a fire hose.” Mara fans her hands at me. “Girl’s on fire.”

  “Wasn’t it the three of you who schooled me last night about moving on, having a summer fling?” Crossing my arms, I pretend to pout.

  “True, but mostly that was the tequila talking.” Mae pushes her palms toward me in the universal sign of “slow down, crazy.”

  After the rodeo ends, we loiter in the stands, waiting for the crowd of tourists and families to disperse.

  A souvenir booth near the entrance catches my attention as we make our way out of the grandstand. They sell posters of the cowboys. Not since my tween heart pitter-pattered over my first crush have I had the urge to hang a poster of a cute boy in my room. I stumble and miss a step as I crane my neck, trying to see if the cowboy in the black hat has a poster.

  My balance isn’t helped by Sage, who slaps my back and squeals. “Why didn’t I think of this? Stan and I are leaving for South Africa in a couple of weeks. You can dog sit for us and stay in my condo for all of July.”

  Barely listening because I’m still in a daze over the hot cowboys, I absently nod. “Sure. I like dogs.”

  A hand waves in front of my face. “Earth to Zoe.”

  I bat Mara’s hand away. “What? I said I like them.”

  “She’s in a cowboy stupor.” Mara snaps her fingers close to my nose. “Snap out of it.”

  “I see no problem.” I blink away the image of tight jeans and straw hats. With a shaky exhale, I glance longingly toward the horse trailers on the other side of the lot. “I feel like I’ve found out Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy are all real. And everyone’s been keeping it a secret from me.”

  “They’re just men who ride horses. And smell like horses.” Mara wrinkles her nose.

  “What’s up with you and horses?” Mae asks.

  “Classic story of a girl who fell off a horse and never got back on. I’m more of a unicorn fan.”

  “Maybe we should take riding lessons,” I half-jokingly suggest.

  Mara’s big eyes grow even wider as she stares at me like I’ve just declared we go swimming with sharks.

  “Come on, it’ll be good for you. If I’m lucky the instructor might even be hot.” I give her a thumb’s up.

  “Girl, you have a major case of the hornies. I say we go down to Woody Creek and see if you can find something nice and long to scratch your itch.” Mae holds her hands about a foot apart and raises her eyebrows.

  My eye catches on movement by the trailers before I can respond to her. “Do you think we’re allowed to mingle with the talent after the show?”

  “I don’t think there’s a VIP area or bouncers for a rodeo.” Sage begins pulling me in the direction of the horses.

  Chapter 3

  Zoe

  “Hello, darlin’, can I help you?” tall, rough, and handsome drawls at me as I stand a few feet away, openly gawking at him. He’s next to the horse he used for the roping competition. The beautiful brown and white Paint.

  I want to pet your buckle.

  I clear my throat and adjust my hat. “I … um, I …”

  “Can we pet your horse?” Sage not so gently pushes me forward.

  “She wants to pet more than the horse,” Mae interjects loud enough for all of us to hear her, including the cowboy.

  “She’s kidding. Can I touch it?” My hand reaches out in his general direction of its own volition. I’m no longer in control of my body parts and I sound like the biggest pervert. “I mean your horse.”

  “Cisco?” He gives me a slow, lazy grin. Like no one has ever offered to pet his pony before.

  I nod.

  “Figures. He gets all the beautiful ladies. Here, you can feed him an apple.” His warm eyes sparkle with genuine amusement as he pulls off a glove to reach into a bucket.

  Instead of just handing me the apple, he lifts my hand and carefully places it on my palm, gently extending my fingers away from the fruit. “Don’t feed him any fingers. Doc says he needs to cut down.”

  I’m only half listening because the scrape of his calloused hands over my skin creates a humming in my ears. “Okay. No fingers. Got it.”

  Cisco whinnies and stomps one of his front feet, impatient for his treat. Extending his neck, he opens his mouth, revealing huge teeth. I need my hands and fingers to work. This is a terrible idea. How am I supposed to give massages if I only have stumps?

  I shift my hand a few inches out of reach, away from his mouth.

  “Not fair to tease him. No reason to be shy.” Cowboy cups my hand and moves it forward, making sure my palm is flat. A soft whisper of whiskers and velvet brush my skin when Cisco takes the apple.

  I exhale an unsteady breath.

  “Not used to being around horses?” Belt Buckle, or BB for short, gives me a knowing smirk.

  “It’s been a while.” Like twenty-six years.

  “If you want to get back on the horse, there’s some good trail rides around here with amazing views. Pretty incredible with the right company. I know a place you can rent a horse for the day.”

  I think he just asked me out on a horse date.

  The problem is I’ve never ridden a horse. First time on a horse with a man like him is a one-way ticket to Disaster Town.

  “Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure you’re busy with rodeoing.” Is that even a verb? It is now. I keep talking and hope it’s a real word that people who aren’t afraid of horses toss around. “Life on the circuit must be pretty crazy.”

  He gives me a shrug and goes back to stripping the gear off his horse. His deft fingers work the leather and buckles with ease. Manual dexterity is an underrated attribute on dating sites. Intelligence, kindness, humor, and the ability to perform detailed work with hands, and other body parts, a must.

  I’m still mentally reworking my requirements for all future potential boyfriends when it occurs to me I’ve just rejected him.

  “I mean I’d love to go riding. With you. Next time you pass through these parts.” Great, now I sound like I’m acting in a cheesy Western movie. At least I haven’t called him partner. Yet.

  Something I say makes him frown. “I’m going to be tied up with competitions. July’s pretty insane for me.”

  “No problem. I didn’t think you meant we’d go together.” Not at all.

  He studies me, his dark eyes reflecting the lights around the grandstand. “I could set you and your friends up, if you want to go.”

  “Please no,” Mara says, backing away like he’s going to toss her on Cisco’s back right here and now.

  Full of questions, Cowboy’s dark eyes flash to me.

  “She’s what happens when you don’t get right back on the horse,” I explain.

  He nods with understanding. “Only takes one bad fall.”

  Mara’s shoulders droop with relief. “I love all animals, but I’m not a fan of riding them. This might be why I have cats.”

  He laughs. “Even if you can manage to get the saddles on, the little bastards would totally refuse to take the bit.”

  Mara’s hazel eyes shine as she laughs. “Now I have to get cowboy hats for Fred and George.”

  Mae sighs. “Okay, crazy cat lady, let’s not scare off the nice man while we’re trying to make a good first impression for Zoe.”

  She means well, but her words douse the conversation in silence.

  Thankfully, Sage ignores Mae and Mara, and smiles at BB. “We won’t keep you. Congratulations on the win tonight.”

  While speaking, she’s gently shepherding me away from Cisco. Before it’s too late, I brush my hand down his strong, velvet soft neck.

  BB dips the front of his hat. “Enjoy your evening, ladies.”

  He’s polite and aloof, but when I turn back to get one last look, he’s still watching me.

  With a wink and that slow, sleepy smile, he removes his hat and executes a bow. Kind of like a western Mr. Darcy.

  “Keep moving,” Sage commands from my side. “Walk
ing away is the most interesting thing you can do tonight.”

  “Huh?” Mae asks. “I thought the plan was to ride a cowboy to chase away her blues?”

  “Not that cowboy.” Sage links our arms and pats my hand. “Trust me.”

  “I saw the bulge in his jeans. He’s packin’. What more does she need from cowboy man candy?” Mae’s slowly following a few steps behind us.

  “I’m not talking about what’s in his pants. He didn’t smear on the charm thick like a big dollop of butter on some hot cornbread.”

  “Mmm.” I’m practically drooling. “Now I’m hungry.”

  “Me too,” Mara says. “You think anything’s still open besides pizza?”

  “I could eat. We could go to the Stonebridge Inn and get bar snacks.” Mae joins the push for food.

  “I’ve lost you all.” Sage laughs at our moaning. “Let’s go get food and maybe you’ll eventually let me finish my point.”

  “Tell me now, wise one,” I whine and make puppy eyes at her.

  “BB practically asked you out on a daytime date. He didn’t suggest you join him and the rest of the ruffians for drinks tonight.”

  “Of course.” I nod as understanding hits me. “He wasn’t interested. I get it. Thanks for saving me from even more awkwardness.”

  The realization stings. For the first time in months, maybe even years, the thrill of potential hot sex started to bubble up. My body reacted on a primal level and obviously overshadowed the signals he was sending—the neon flashing “no” above his head clear to everyone but me.

  “Stop. Just stop right there.” Mae’s voice holds annoyance and disappointment.

  “You sound hangry,” Mara whispers.

  “I ate enough ribs for two, I’m not hungry. Just annoyed.”

  We’ve all stopped walking outside the main entrance. We’re now the kind of people who get off an escalator and stop right at the bottom, forcing everyone else to navigate around us. Feels like we’re about to create a scene.

  I watch enough reality shows to know that a girls’ night can turn into a cat fight in less time than it takes to do a shot.

  “Keep it moving, ladies,” I beg. “If we hurry, we can catch the first shuttle.”

  That gets my friends to speed up their meandering. Around here, we take the free shuttles when we go out drinking. Cheaper than an Uber and safer than hitting an elk after rosé all day.

  It’s a short ride up the winding road to the Stonebridge.

  Snowmass doesn’t really have a downtown center like Aspen. Instead there are two shopping areas that anchor the resort village. The open air mall with its shops, restaurants, and sports equipment rentals, is surrounded by condos, hotels, and on one side, the ski runs.

  Unlike most of the rest of the world, places around here shut down for the slow months. Like families with kids who operate their lives around the school calendar, everyone who lives year-round in these mountain towns adjusts to life during the off season.

  Sometimes I compare it to the forced naps we had to take in preschool. Didn’t matter if you were jammin’ out to Elmo and drawing a masterpiece, time for mandatory rest.

  At first I thought it was weird. Sure, in Chicago we have four seasons, each with its own character. But unless there’s a huge lake effect blizzard, the city doesn’t shut down. Now I love the quiet times.

  Not Neil. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t get sushi or steak at his favorite places seven nights a week. To some, like Neil, it didn’t matter if he was the only person in the place. Probably made him feel special.

  Wonderful.

  Now he’s crept into my head again and ruined my happy bubble.

  “I think I might go home and crash.” I’m already thinking about what Netflix show I can stream.

  “No, you’re not,” Mae declares.

  Damn she’s pushy.

  “Don’t be discouraged about the cowboy.” Sage leans around Mara to meet my eyes. “Like I was saying before. It’s a good thing he wasn’t trying to get in your pants tonight. You don’t need to have sex with a random guy.”

  “She doesn’t?” From my left, Mae tilts forward to stare at Sage. “Says who?”

  “Quit interrupting and I’ll tell you.” Sage narrows her eyes, making sure we’re all going to keep quiet. I imagine her giving the same look to her young dance students. Don’t let the rainbow unicorn hair fool anyone, she’s tough. “I think you need a guy friend who can help restore your faith in the male species.”

  “Like Lee?” I ask.

  “Exactly. Not all men are spineless dickheads.”

  “Anyone else picturing eels right now?” Mara silently gags. “Just me?”

  “Not hungry anymore.” Mae leans back.

  Sage ignores them and continues. “Find a guy you can be friends with. No expectations, no pressure.”

  “Preferably someone with terrible pheromones and halitosis. Back and shoulder hair might help too,” Mara suggests. “It also might be helpful if you imagine them as an eel.”

  “Stop. No more mention of eels,” Mae grumbles.

  “I have guy friends. Lee and Jesse. Even Easley.”

  “The first two count, but they’re our boyfriends. It would be weird if you start hanging out with them all the time without us,” Mara says.

  “Easley has the gorilla arms, so he qualifies.” Mae doesn’t look sure if this is a good thing or not.

  “But with Easley usually comes Landon,” Sage says, and we all frown.

  “Definitely a negative.” I make an x with my index fingers.

  “Jesse knows everyone from ski patrol and construction. I’m sure he has a half-decent friend you can hang out with,” Mara offers with a smile.

  “What happened to a summer fling?” I ask, feeling more and more like a social experiment.

  “If you have an itch, scratch it yourself?” Mae suggests, but clearly doubts this is a good thing. “I’m still on Team Fling. If anyone is asking.”

  “Me too,” I say, softly. “You can’t take a girl to the rodeo, show her all those men in their Wranglers, then tell her to look but not touch. You’re all a bunch of mean girls.”

  “At least your sex drive isn’t completely dead.” Mae pats my shoulder. “I’d say the evening has been a success for that discovery alone.”

  Great. Now that things are zinging and pinging, I’m going home alone. I don’t want to play it safe anymore. I want to be wild and daring, the kind of woman who doesn’t care what society thinks of her choices. I want to live dangerously and not look back in another five years full of regret.

  Chapter 4

  Justin

  Tonight in Snowmass, I’m too close to home to not be obsessed with sleeping in my own bed. A mattress instead of a bed roll sounds like heaven. It’s been two weeks since I’ve woken up in my own place. That’s about as long as I can stand.

  A few of the younger bucks on the tour gather near their pickups, making plans for tonight’s drinking and womanizing. Dusty, who earned the name for always ending up in the dirt when riding the broncos, waves me over.

  “You joining us, old man?” He grins, loving to give me shit.

  I give it right back to him with a grin of my own. “You inviting me because you need someone to buy you beer?”

  “Turned twenty-one two weeks ago. You were at my party.”

  “Surprised you remember anything about that night.” Poor kid vomited in his hat outside a bar in Cheyenne. Waste of a good Stetson, but most of us have done it at some point. A rodeo circuit rite of passage.

  “You coming?” he asks.

  “Heading home tonight. I’ve got a few days off and need to get some work done on the ranch.” Not sure why I’m explaining all this to him. All the young guys care about is their ranking, their horses, women, and booze. The order of importance changes depending on the time of day.

  If I ever was like that, I’m not anymore. Yeah, I’m only a few years older, but my focus has changed.

  �
�Catch up with you in a few days. Maybe practice staying on the bronco instead of flopping around like a dying trout.”

  I accept the middle finger Dusty gives me and return it with a grin.

  “Ready to go home?” I ask Cisco.

  I swear he nods when he shakes his mane.

  The darkening sky still holds a hint of blue as I ready Cisco for the trailer. Not sure if he can smell the familiar scents in the air, but when we compete in Snowmass, somehow, he knows he’ll be sleeping in his own paddock with his horse buddies tonight. He flicks his tail and nuzzles my shoulder like he’s telling me to hurry up so we can go home. My favorite roping horse, Cisco and I are kindred spirits.

  “We’ll get there. Stomping your feet won’t speed up the process. You got a pretty girl to give you an apple. Stop complaining. You’re doing better with the ladies lately than I am.”

  It’s the truth.

  A beautiful brunette with the prettiest deep brown eyes I’d ever seen came over to us after the show. Even with her group of friends egging her on, she seemed shy. Reluctant even. I tried to ask her to go riding with me, but she shot me down.

  It’s entirely possible she lost a bet and had to talk to a cowboy tonight. Wouldn’t be the first time, but I can’t say I’m not disappointed.

  Rarely do the women who hang around rodeos interest me. I wish they did. Life would be simpler and I’d get laid more.

  Shockingly, life on the Western State Rodeo Circuit isn’t as glamorous as it sounds. Two to three shows a week in different towns means when I’m not riding, I’m driving. Or sleeping. Sometimes I manage to eat and hang out with friends.

  No, I don’t fuck a different woman after every rodeo. Although I could.

  And it’s not to say that some of these guys don’t. Hell, they’re doing this not for the fame, money, or buckle bragging rights. They’re in it for the women.

  Missing a tooth? Tell her it got kicked out by a bronco.

  Weird ass broken nose? Busted by a bull.

  Cut lip? Let them wonder if it’s from a bar fight or a horse.

  The less we share, the bigger the mystery, and the fantasy.