“Plenty of cowboys here you can bang in the truck,” she says, completely deadpan.
I chew on my lip. I don’t want any other cowboys. Just the one. “I wonder if he’ll be here?” I say quietly.
She cuts the engine and turns to face me. Her eyes are begging. “Lola… If he is here, please can you fuck him after we successfully pull off this party? Please?”
I burst out laughing. “Because it’s for you, I’ll try to keep away from any and all dicks,” I say with a grin.
She slaps my arm, and for the first time all morning, she actually laughs. “Slut.”
My eyes go wide.
“Xavier might be here too,” I tease, wiggling my eyebrows.
Her hand flies to her chest like I’ve physically wounded her. “I can’t even think about cock today, Lola. Just salmon canapés and steak.”
I bite back a laugh and glance in the side mirror. Luke’s van is pulling up beside us. He works for her. He catches Violet’s eye through the windshield and gives her that look that seems to make her blush.
“Cute little workplace romance,” I say, nudging her.
She stays silent, which only means one thing. I knew it. My mouth drops open. “Violet Taylor.” I grab her arm. “Have you?”
“Maybe,” is all she gives me before she slips out of the car.
I sit there for a second, grinning like an idiot. This place is bringing out something new in both of us. Something reckless and a little bit wild and completely unlike the versions of ourselves we left behind.
I climb out and head over to Luke’s van, falling into step with the routine. We start unloading trays. Violet is already in full commander mode, clipboard out, barking orders. And I listen.
We’ve got a few hours to set up. Everything is going to be perfect. It has to be. I grab a stack of trays and follow them through the gate toward the catering tent. And that’s when I stop.
There’s a blacked-out truck parked in the next field. Set apart from the others, like it doesn’t belong in the lineup. It’s a beast.
I swear it’s his, and my heart does something stupid.
“Lola! Come on!” Violet shouts from inside the tent.
I blink. Shake myself out of it. Chances are, my cowboy will be here if it’s an event this big. And the thing is, I don’t know what to do about that. He hasn’t tried to chase me. Hasn’t called. Hasn’t shown up at my door with some grand gesture or whispered promise.
I’m not even sure he’s interested. He might just be like the rest of them—full of shit and fake promises and a charm that expires the second they’ve gotten what they wanted.
It was a one-night thing.
That’s all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HUNTER
"We've gotsome of the ranch hands at the main entrance. I've given them the invite list, so no one who ain't invited is getting in. And the catering company is here," Beau tells me, tossing his hat down on the couch, revealing his man bun.
I cringe. He really needs to leave that hat on today. He doesn’t pull his weight around here on the ranch anymore after Dad died, and he becomes less of a cowboy every day. But, fuck me, a cowboy with a top knot?
"I don't believe the Greeks will be stupid enough to turn up at my kid's birthday party. But I don’t trust 'em as far as I can throw 'em." I walk over to the window, watching Ace show Wyatt around all the different party areas. The bounce house he desperately wanted. The kids' shooting game. The tent set up where the food will be, and the huge birthday cake that looks like Gary, his goat.
All I care about is the smile on my boy's face. That's what all of this is about. I might fuck up in other ways in life, but never when it comes to Wyatt.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Half of me expects Ashley to call. I thought she might have at least wanted to video call or speak to her only son on his birthday. But then again, she might have gone on another bender the second I left the house last night.
I want to believe she's getting better. For him. But it isn’t a risk I’m taking yet.