Page 65 of The Stars in the Sky
"—if you wear the tie-dye all day and go with me wherever I want. We drive in my car. And we're going to go to every hippie store I can think of, Will, and you're going to try a lot of new things."
He laughed. "Can't picture me wearing that tie-dye."
"Neither can I, so I want to see it, big guy. And that's just the beginning. I'm thinking yoga and drum circles and spiritual enlightenment book stores. You're going to learn about the Law of Attraction and we're going to go to the Democratic headquarters in Santa Barbara."
"Oh, now that's just mean," he drawled. "I offer to take you to have an ice cream cone. That's a date. You're punishing me."
"Take it or leave it. I'll eat ice cream and in exchange you do whatever it is I want you to do."
"No."
"No?" I couldn't believe he said no—I was really going to break my vegan-ness for him. I started to get mad but he spoke.
"I'll wear the shirt and you can drive your car and we'll go wherever you want except nothing political."
Guess he didn't want to go there either. That sounded like he was giving in. I reached over and shook his hand. "Mr. Thrash, I think you have yourself a deal."
After breakfast, we wandered over to the stables to check on the horses. Happy didn't really eat his breakfast, but I suppose he wasn't hungry. His stall looked clean. The wranglers must have already mucked it out.
Since I had this strange living arrangement where I slept with Will in his house—just sleeping for now—but my stuff wasn’t there, I went to the bunkhouse and showered and changed, putting on white short shorts, flip flops, and a blue and white striped sailor shirt. Then I walked over to Will's house.
When I walked in, he was nowhere to be seen. "Will!" I called out. I heard him yell from upstairs, "Come on up."
When I got up to his room, he was standing in his bedroom, dark hair wet and wavy, barefoot, shirtless, wearing Levi's.
My boy actually owned jeans other than Wranglers.
And he looked gorgeous in them—dark wash, low slung, hugging his ass just right. They hung below his boxers, so I guess he only went commando in Wranglers.
He smiled, a rueful smirk. "I can't believe you're actually making me do this." And he reached over, picked up the black and blue tie-dyed shirt he made, and put it on.
Hoo-boy. Mr. Will always wore his shirts a little tight, and this was no exception. It hugged his chest, and his arm muscles bulged in the sleeves.
"Don't feel like myself," he said, running his hand down his abdominal muscles.
"You don't look like yourself," I said, and looked him up and down. He looked like a hunky guy that you’d see at Whole Foods, but he didn't look like my Will. It neutralized him. Truly, it was astonishing how much his clothes and his cowboy persona defined him. He looked beautiful, but it was different.
Almost too different.
I had half a mind to let him take it off.
Butnah. This was too much fun.
"Can't wear boots with this," he said. "It feels wrong." And he pulled on flip flops and sunglasses.
I hadn't realized how much I was attracted to him as a rancher. Making him look like someone he wasn't felt off. I needed to throw him a bone.
"Tell you what. I'll buy me some Wranglers today and wear them for you, okay?" He shrugged. "Just Wranglers, no shirt."
"Deal," he said immediately.
We walked out to my car and he shuddered. "Can't believe I’m letting you talk me into this," he said under his breath.
"I heard that." I unlocked the doors and we got in.
"I don't know which is worse. Driving this hippie-mobile or being driven."
"I'll drive," I said. "I know where I want to go."
"And I'll take you to McConnell's for ice cream."
Ooh. Local, old fashioned, the good stuff.
Yum.
I almost forgot I was vegan.
