Page 89 of A Forever Kind of Rancher

But it was interesting. To see him uncomfortable. He was so confident, so unaffected. But there was something to the way he talked about being an artist. A strange dismissiveness.

She had a feeling, for whatever reason, that probably meant he cared about it.

“You’re actually doing an exhibition here?”

“Yeah, and schmoozing stuff. It’s not my thing. I’ve done it before, but I don’t get any more comfortable with it, it turns out. Damned inconvenient all things considered.”

“I guess it would be.”

“Anyway, I don’t really want to talk about me. I’d rather talk about you. And your breasts.”

She looked down. “These ol’ things?”

He threw his head back and laughed, then lifted his thumb and dragged it over her nipple, sending a shiver through her body. “Yeah. I’m pretty impressed.”

“At the private school I went to the girls used to ask if I’d gotten bitten by mosquitos on my chest.”

“Small is fine,” he said. “You’re small and perfect. And real. Better that than fake, I think.”

“Well, you’re in the minority.” She stood up. “I guess I should go. It’s...well, what is it...seven o’clock?”

“Nearly.”

“I should go home and...water my plants.”

“Right. I should...order room service.”

“I hope you can skip the porn now.”

He nodded. “It’s safe to say that particular urge is managed.”

“I think I’m flattered.”

“Then maybe my charm has improved with the orgasm.”

“So...should we...should I just go? I’ve never done this before.” And she was starting to shake, the buzz from her orgasm wearing off, leaving reality in its wake.

“Do you want the honest truth?”

She picked her clothes up from the floor by the wall and started tugging them on. “Depends. But...hit me.”

“I’ve never done this before, either.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“It’s true.”

“I’ve been in two comfortably friendly relationships. One wherein I lived with the guy until one day he wanted to move out. Neither of us were too sad about it. That was six months ago... I can’t even muster up any sadness over it. And...and that’s been it for me. No wild one...afternoon stands.”

“Well, I’m sort of coming off a...uh...marriage.”

She froze. “Oh.”

“I’m not married,” he said. “It’s just... I was. And that kind of ate up my wild one-night-stand years.”

“I bet.”

“That was information you didn’t need,” he said, looking down. She examined his profile, his square jaw, the rough whiskers on his chin. He was embarrassed now. It was sort of adorable. It made her heart do very strange things. “See?” he said, looking up at her, his forehead creasing, the light from the bedside lamp casting shadows over his muscles. “I’m bad at this.”

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