Wild for You

by Daisy Prescott

  “Yes.”

  “I’m pretty sure my bra is on inside out.” She pulls her shirt away from her chest and peers down it. “Try calling Chad again. I’m going to go fix this and find some coffee. Want some?”

  “Iced with two percent if you’re asking.”

  After she’s gone, I realize I don’t have Chad’s number in my phone. She’s been the main contact. This is when my city girl paranoia pays off. I dig up the picture of his car and expand it to read the name.

  “My outdoor adventures, my ass,” I mumble as I enter his number. Not surprisingly, it goes straight to voicemail. There’s no point in leaving a third voicemail since he hasn’t responded to the first two Mae left him. “Well, Chad, you would appear to be off on your own personal adventure this morning.”

  I do the mature thing and stick my tongue out at my phone before setting it on the planter next to my hip. Nothing to do but wait for Mae to return with coffee. Once she’s back, we can figure out our options. Top options right now are: hitchhiking, calling someone at home and asking them to give up three hours of their life, or finding another Chad.

  I put on my sunglasses and then pick a stray white thread off my dark jeans. A lock of hair falls over my forehead when I dip my head. I push it back into the nest of a bun. The braid from last night still exists in theory. The ends are wrapped into a ball near the nape of my neck.

  Even behind my sunnies, I need to squint. The strong summer sun at this elevation is way too bright for nine thirty in the morning. Despite showering, I look like I finished walking a half marathon five minutes ago. If we’re out here for much longer, I’m going to need to find some shade.

  Remembering my cap, I unbuckle it from the side of my pack and tug it on my head. Not my best look, but I’m not here to impress anyone.

  I try Chad’s number again. Voicemail.

  “You suck,” I tell my phone’s screen.

  “Need a ride?” a guy in a truck yells in my general direction.

  Glancing up, I’m already waving him away. “No, just waiting for a friend.”

  My wave stalls mid-air in a sad, solo jazz hand.

  A huge gray truck with those double rear wheels is stopped in front of the hotel. Behind the truck sits a horse trailer. There’s no way they’re not blocking traffic as the driver leans closer to the passenger window.

  “Sure you’re okay?” The voice is as familiar as the buzzed head and full lips. Deep brown eyes peer down at me from above the same Ray-Bans he wore hiking yesterday.

  A car honks and Justin gestures for them to pass him.

  “We meet again, Cowboy,” Mae purrs as she hands me a large iced coffee.

  Inside the cab, he gives her a small salute.

  Mae coughs to cover the muttered “go with it” she says for only my ears. “So glad I ran into you while getting coffee. Seems our ride’s still MIA. You might be the right man for the job.”

  More car horns honk down the street while I silently curse her.

  Justin waves his arm out the window to tell people to pass him. “If you’re joining me, we should probably go before the good people of Crested Butte riot.”

  “You’re our hero.” Mae has both our packs in her hand, and steps off the curb before I can process she’s accepted his offer.

  “We don’t want to trouble you. We’re probably not even going in the same direction you’re headed.” Making excuses, I remain standing by the planter. “I’m sure our ride will be here soon.”

  Mae opens the door, tosses both bags on the back seat, and climbs in the back. “Stop the nonsense and come on.”

  I glance at my phone again, for some stupid reason hoping Chad responded. Yes, I’m thinking Chad is a better option than being squished up against the cowboy who’s starring in my recent fantasies. Give me enough time and I’ll come up with a reason why.

  “You know I’ll leave you here.” She widens her eyes and rolls them toward Justin, who sits in the driver’s seat wearing an amused half-smile.

  “I promise I’m not a kidnapper.” He pats the seat next to him.

  It’s a big truck with a roomy king cab, but once we climb in and I shut the door behind us, it feels tiny.

  I bobble my iced coffee and almost dump the entire thing over the center console into Justin’s lap.

  “Whoa there, watch it.” He stabilizes my cup with his hand over my fingers. Memories of him holding me while we danced last night flood my body with zings.

  “You got it?” He’s still holding my cup upright.

  “Huh?”

  “Zoe’s usually able to hold her beverages all by herself.” Mae teases from the backseat, breaking the intimate bubble around Justin and me.

  “I got it.”

  “Good.” He checks his mirrors and pulls into traffic. “So where are we going?”

  “Home,” I say.

  “Figured as much. Can you give me a little more information? I didn’t bring my ruby slippers.” Amusement softens his words.

  Mae’s head appears between the seats. “We left my car at Maroon Bells when we hiked over yesterday, but you probably already knew that. You can drop us at Zoe’s condo in Aspen.”

  I turn my head to stare at her.

  She nods and grins.

  “Thought I recognized you from the trail.” Justin meets my gaze and I know he remembers our encounter. “Condo in Aspen. That’s pretty fancy.”

  “I have a roommate.” The lie bubbles out of me. From the corner of my eye I can see Mae shift in the backseat to stare at me.

  “Makes sense.” He nods, accepting my word. Because why wouldn’t he? “Where are you from?”

  “Chicago,” I answer. Small talk I can handle. “You?”

  “Colorado, mostly.”

  “I’m the weirdo. Born and raised around Aspen. True local. Although I moved back last winter for the ski season, I’m still here,” Mae adds.

  Justin twists to address Mae. “I thought you looked familiar.”

  “I waitress around town. You’ve probably seen me in one of the local restaurants.”

  He shakes his head. “Aspen’s too fancy for my blood. Unless you work at Hickory House, I doubt it.”

  “I love it there. Their pulled pork gives me life.” I’m practically drooling.

  “I’m a rib man, myself, but it’s nice to see a good place stick around.” Even without looking directly at him, I can see Justin’s grin.

  “Isn’t it a cliché for a cowboy to hang out at the local barbecue joint?” Mae asks, and I want to elbow her.

  “Some clichés are true. If I could tie up Cisco, I’d probably ride into town. I bet there’s a city council ordinance now about no horse parking. Shame for an old silver town to forget men on horses put it on the map.”

  “You must live close to town if you could ride in for dinner.” I’m not fishing to find out where he lives. Just curious.

  “Normally I keep that information private, especially with people I meet at rodeos, but since we’re all neighbors, I’ll tell you.”

  “You don’t have to. I mean, we’d never show up at your house or anything. We’re not weirdos.” My words argue against the point I’m trying to make.

  His laughter is rich and deep when it fills the cab. “Thanks for clarifying.”

  “Sweet lord,” Mae mumbles under her breath.

  I don’t know if he hears her, but his laughter softens. “I live up at the Easy Z ranch. At least when I’m not on the road during the summer.”

  “What a coincidence!” Over-enthusiastically, Mae pats my shoulder. “That’s Zoe’s rapper name.”

  “More like a college nickname,” I mumble, a lame attempt at a joke.

  Silence fills the cramped space.

  “Which one of you is joking?” he asks with a straight face.

  Chapter 13

  Justin

  I can’t tell if Zoe’s joking about being called Easy Z.

  If she had a wild past, I’m not judging. If you haven’t had a w
ild period in your life, you’re probably not living to the fullest.

  “More likely to be my rapper name.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I didn’t go crazy in college. Unless you call spending all nighters watching a kiln wild.”

  “You’re an artist?”

  “Massage therapist.” She wiggles her fingers in front of her. “The only magic I create these days involves these puppies and some body oil.”

  I jerk the wheel and the tires vibrate over the rumble strip on the shoulder as I imagine her wrapping her fingers around me.

  “That sounded really dirty.” Zoe laughs, sounding embarrassed. “I don’t give those kind of massages. I swear.”

  “This is the second time recently you’ve had to clarify that. I’m a little concerned.” Mae’s voice holds genuine worry.

  “Definitely frowned upon at the spa at the Ritz. Like joy and laughter.” Zoe forms an x with her arms. “Relaxation must be serious.”

  If she means the Ritz Carlton, she works at a high-end place. Even if she makes bank with tips, there’s no way she could afford a condo to herself in Aspen. From the corner of my eye I study her. She definitely doesn’t come across as hoity, but there must be money there. Either she has family money or a rich boyfriend. Maybe even a sugar daddy.

  The last two options sour my stomach. We’ve barely spoken, and she ghosted last night, but I’m intrigued. Hell, after dancing with her, I might even be smitten.

  I haven’t felt a spark in a long time.

  When women throw themselves at the rodeo, there’s no chase. No desire to get to know each other before tumbling into bed, or the nearest wall. I miss the slow burn of getting to know a woman, discovering ways to make her smile and finding out what makes her laugh. Uncovering how to make her eyes light up. And after all of that, putting that knowledge to use bringing her pleasure. Satisfied in knowing I can make her happy.

  When I was younger, I only focused on what I wanted. Summers spent as a good looking young buck on the circuit twisted my perception about relationships. Easy sex at a young age definitely warped my view on love. Coming home to the ranch permanently, with the responsibility of preserving it, has changed me. Life’s too short to live only for yourself.

  “Why the rodeo?” Zoe asks.

  “Besides the promise of a new belt buckle?” I tilt my head toward the driver’s window and glance at her.

  “Seems like risking your life is a lot for bragging rights.”

  “I like the challenge. I don’t compete against the other riders. My focus is on beating my high score.”

  “Have you ever been hurt?” Mae asks.

  “All the time. My back’s still a little sore from last night.”

  “You should have Zoe give you a massage.” Mae suggests. “I’m sure she’ll give you the friends and family discount.”

  Zoe casts a dirty look over her shoulder at her friend.

  “Or not,” Mae says.

  “I have a physical therapist down valley. He’s a sadist who uses torture devices on me.”

  Zoe’s shoulders drop, evidently relieved I’m not taking Mae serious. I’m not sure how to interpret her reaction. We settle into a semi-comfortable silence as I carefully navigate the twists in the road.

  “Feel free to play DJ,” I suggest to Zoe. “I think most of the presets are country, but there’s satellite on there, too.”

  “Who says I don’t like country?” She gives me a flirty smile.

  I flash a grin. “The fact that you have a rapper name?”

  “Mae likes to tease me about being from the big city. I think she confuses gangster with gangsta.”

  “So, you’re an Italian mafia princess?” I ask, not even half serious.

  Mae snorts from the backseat.

  Zoe shakes her head. “Don’t even joke about it. I have an uncle who we all swear is in the mob. Or based his entire life on The Sopranos. We’re not even Italian, but you’d never know it if you met him. He even says things like ‘forgeddaboutit’ with a Jersey accent. The Saragossa side of my family is from Spain, but he’s from Wisconsin like my mom.”

  “Family’s weird.” An uncle with a fake accent would be welcome in the Garrison family. We don’t even know what normal means.

  “You should meet my younger brother. Do you have siblings?” Zoe asks.

  “Two younger sisters who live in California. Might see them a couple times during ski season. We’re not really close. In fact, I’m only close with my grandmother.”

  “That’s sweet,” Zoe says.

  “Not sure anyone would call Felecia sweet. She still heads the family like the Queen runs England. The matriarch of the Easy Z may be in her seventies and tiny, but only a fool would knowingly cross her.”

  “You sound a little bit afraid of her.” Mae’s voice is teasing.

  “Damn right I am.” I chuckle. “Took me a few tries to learn that lesson, but it’s one I won’t forget.”

  Zoe lifts her eyebrows in question, but now’s not the time for the Garrison family history lesson. When I don’t give more information, she flips through the stations until she finds a song she likes. Figures it’s Sam Hunt. Do all women have crushes on him?

  “How do you feel about tacos?” I ask as we hit the outskirts of Carbondale. “I didn’t have breakfast this morning and there’s a great food truck in town. Nothing fancy.”

  Not sure I need to add the caveat. It’s a food truck.

  Zoe flicks her gaze to me. “Taco’s sound amazing. All we’ve had is coffee.”

  “So much coffee. I really need to pee,” Mae says without embarrassment.

  “Not sure the taco truck has anything more than a port-a-potty.”

  Zoe frowns. “No more peeing outside. Please. Look, there’s a McDonald’s.”

  I’m confused. “No tacos?”

  “Tacos after. McD’s has excellent upkeep on their bathrooms. Cleaned hourly,” Mae explains. “Wherever you go in the world, you can almost be guaranteed of a decent bathroom when you see the double arches. Even in Bali.”

  “Huh. Things I learn.” I pull into the bus parking in the lot. “I’m going to check on Cisco. He doesn’t like the winding roads.”

  “Want us to get him a happy meal without the burger or fries or drink? I think they have them with apples and carrots.” Zoe walks backward toward the building.

  I’m touched she wants to buy a treat for Cisco. He’s going to get spoiled by her.

  “Nah, he’s fine.”

  I open the trailer and make sure Cisco’s okay. It’s early enough in the day, the temperature’s not too bad. Wearing his fly mask calms him. This one makes him look like a superhero with a blue outline around his eyes on a red background.

  Yeah, forget the getting part, he’s already a spoiled horse.

  When the girls return, I’m leaning against the driver’s side of the truck, happily checking out Zoe walking toward me. Her long legs are highlighted by the ripped jeans she’s wearing. Beneath her thin T-shirt, I can see the slight bounce of her breasts with each step. Taller than Mae, Zoe’s curvier than her shorter friend.

  Dancing with her last night wasn’t enough. I want to feel her naked body slide against mine as I explore her curves.

  Behind my sunglasses, I let my gaze roam over Zoe, taking in all of her and committing it to memory. As they step closer, I bite the inside of my thumb, near the nail to stifle a grin threatening to spread across my face. Her beauty isn’t based on makeup and clothes. It shines out of her, bright like the high altitude sun.

  “Ready?” Zoe interrupts my thoughts.

  “More than ready.” For her? Definitely.

  With a grin, I jog around the front and open the doors. Mae’s nice, but I’m kind of wishing she wasn’t here. Not going to leave her behind in a random parking lot, but I don’t need a chaperone.

  If I thought Zoe was hot before, the soft moans and happy sighs she makes while eating simple street food pushes me over an imaginary line. Sitting across from
her, I stare as she takes a big bite of taco. I swallow my own groan when she licks a drop of crema from the corner of her mouth and then sucks more sauce off her fingers.

  An hour ago I was resolved to take it slow and get to know her. Now I’m imagining her mouth on me.

  “Excuse me.” I clear my throat. “I’m going to get more hot sauce. Need anything?”

  With a mouthful of food, Zoe just shakes her head no.

  “Mas hot sauce, por favor,” Mae says with a terrible Spanish accent.

  Her humor breaks through a growing haze of lust. Evidently, I do need a chaperone.

  Post tacos, Zoe wipes her mouth with a stack of napkins. “I feel like I’ve washed my face with guacamole. So worth it.”

  “Avocado facials are why we millennials are picked on for our financial status,” Mae says, wadding her napkin into a ball and tossing it into the empty taco tray.

  “That’s not a real thing, is it?” I ask.

  “The financial woes of millennials or our rampant love of avocados?” Mae asks.

  “Both?”

  Zoe steals one of my tortilla chips and dips it into the way too small cup of extra guacamole. “Apparently, we’re not taking adulting seriously because we’re obsessed with avocados.”

  “All of us?” I really am out of the loop if my entire generation is failing financially. Will I get booted from the club when they find out I’m actually good with money?

  “Pretty much,” Zoe says. “Aren’t you on social media?”

  “No.”

  Both women stare at me like I’ve announced I don’t have electricity. Sometimes I don’t, but that’s not the point.

  “How do you find out what’s going on in the world?” Mae asks, stunned by my confession.

  “I read the paper.”

  “Actual newspaper?”

  “Online if I have Wi-Fi.” Pulling my oversized iPhone from my back pocket, I wiggle it in front of Mae. “I have one of these fancy computer phones that let me get on the world wide web. And I know what Candy Crush is and that it’s evil.”

  “Okay, grandpa.” Zoe winks and then gives me an exaggerated thumbs-up.