Page 2 of Cam
Maybe because I’d had the worst luck when itcame to dating that I’d learned that guys my age were pretty much children, even at twenty-two. My last boyfriend, Rod, had turned out to not only be a dick, but he’d been verbally abusive, a user and oh, yeah, a criminal.
Staring at Mr. Hottie, I imagined the only thing he stole were women’s hearts right along with their panties.
Mine were wet from eyeing him across the room.
“Be right back, ladies!” Amber called, grabbing the bingo card and sashaying toward her target with the confidence that was fueled by a few shots.
I hadn’t heard which guy Amber was planning on kissing and offering a piece of her clothing, but suddenly I felt proprietary about Mr. Hottie. I didn’t want his mouth on Amber’s. I didn’t want his hands on her gorgeous body. What item of clothing could she offer wearing a flirty dress with her cowboy boots?
The four of us stared when she got to their table. Her back was to us, but we saw the men’s faces clearly. The Stetson guy took his hat off and the three grinned at her approach. Then Amber turned and pointed toward us and three sets of handsome eyes shifted our way.
I only saw blue ones and while they scanned Kristy, Jenna, and Tina, they landed on me.
And didn’t move. Only ran up and down my body and I would swear it felt like a physical touch. Then, after a few seconds or maybe a few minutes, his gaze tore away from mine and focused back on Amber.
They spoke. She glanced over her shoulder at us briefly. Then she nodded, spun around so her skirt swirled up like she was square dancing, and walked right back.
“Well? I didn’t see any kissing,” Tina said, wrapping her arm around Amber’s shoulders as if she needed consoling after being shot down by three hot cowboys.
Amber was grinning. She didn’t look the least upset.
“That’s because they want to kiss Taylor.”
“They?” screeched Jenna, jumping up and down, her boobs, which were barely contained in her V-neck top, were in danger of spilling out.
“I mean him,” she clarified.
All of us, in perfect unison, whipped our heads back toward the men.
Mr. Hottie was crooking his finger and eyeing me.
“Him,” Amber repeated.
Oh my God.
He wanted to kiss me.
Me.
2
CAM
Since I’d been workingnon-stop at a number of ranches with the fall calving season in full swing, my brother Bray insisted I join him along with his buds Ace and Cody at The Roadside for a night out. His new wife, Katie, was hanging with the girls at Ma and Pops’ place watching some new historical movie on TV. They’d made a night of it with food, drinks–although pretty much non-alcoholic since the only one not pregnant in the group was Ma–and lounging on the huge couch in pajamas. I liked the idea of lounging on the couch watching TV, but I’d rather geta flea dip than see some romance set in Regency England.
My brothers were dropping left and right for the love of their lives like fall leaves off a cottonwood, so girls’ night was a new thing in the Wilder family. Unfortunately, historical romance movies were a common occurrence. For, well, ever, the only women in the family had only been my sister Lainey and Ma. Out of nine kids, Ma only got one daughter. Now there was also Ellie, Molly, and Katie, all of whom were pregnant. Lainey, too.
Ace, Cody, and I were two beers in when Bray called and ended up being a no-show because he was still out on a farrier job. As a vet, I took care of the whole animal and he focused on the hooves. That left the three of us shooting the shit.
Bray and I were second and third in the lineup of siblings, so we shared a lot of things, including friends. Ace worked the oil fields in North Dakota and was away for weeks at a time. He had a few more days off until he had to return. Cody, oddly enough, was Devil’s Ditch’s youngest ever mayor. His father had been in the role for two decades and when he retired, Cody’d decided to put his name on the ballot. And won.
Needless to say, having beers with the mayormeant we weren’t gonna be going wild at The Roadside. Or anywhere else in town.
A few beers and then home to hopefully get eight hours of sleep. More often than not lately, I got a call in the middle of the night from the vet tech who had the night shift at the clinic who watched animals who were recovering from surgery.
Being a vet was rewarding and the patients didn’t talk, but they did often shit on you.
My averagely exciting evening took a turn when a very bubbly, slightly drunk woman came to our table and said she and her friends were working on a bachelorette bingo game and slapped the card down on the table in front of us. Ace, sitting in the middle, picked it up and I leaned a little to read it.
