I ignore his ‘nice move’ comment. “I know what it is,” I say, smiling at him. “So, are you like big time or something? You must be really good to have gone pro.”
“I don’t suck, if that’s what you’re asking,” he answers with a playful smile.
“I didn’t… I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean it like that.” I turn away from him, trying to hide my embarrassment.
He laughs and nudges my shoulder with his, urging me to look at him. “I was just kidding with you. I know you didn’t mean it like that. But to answer your question, I’m not the best, but I’m pretty good.”
Wes’ reply sets me at ease, knowing that I didn’t offend him. “Don’t you ever get scared?” I ask, fascinated by his career choice.
“Not really. I like the rush it gives me. Like, when I hop on that bull, it’s just me and him trapped in that pen together. When I tuck my hand under the hard, worn leather of the bull rope and wait for the cage door to swing open, the surge of adrenaline that I get makes my career worth it.”
“No offense, I like the intensity of adrenaline coursing through me as much as the next person, but you take it to a whole other level.”
“I’ve heard that before,” he says, nodding at my comment. “But have you ever seen bull riding in person?”
“Are you kidding? I am from Texas, you know. I’ve been going to rodeos since I could walk,” I reply incredulously.
“All right, smartass.” He chuckles. “I like how you diverted my original question, by the way.”
“You caught that, huh?”
“So, are you going to tell me why you were crying?”
“Not tonight. I just wanna sit here and listen to the water,” I answer, nudging his shoulder with an easy smile and a look in my eyes that say ‘please don’t ask again’.
“Okay, but if some drunk fucker over there is the reason, just let me know and I’ll kick his ass,” he says with a wink.
A laugh escapes me as he poses his arms to show off his biceps. “Okay, cowboy. You can put the guns away now.” My laughter eases as I push his arms back down to his sides.
He chuckles, too. “I’m glad that I was able to make you laugh.”
“Me, too. Thanks,” I reply, catching his eyes. The depths of them suck me in, holding me captive.
Silently, we sit there and look at each other, while the sounds of the frogs croaking mix with the melody of the creek singing its own song. “You wanna get out of here?” He stands and reaches his hand out to me.
“Sure.” I lay my hand in his, letting him pull me up off the ground. Before I can pick up my boots, he does it for me, and leads us away from our private moment and back to my Jeep.
“Will you go somewhere with me?” Wes asks, parking the Jeep in front of the barn.
“Didn’t I already go somewhere with you?” I counter, laughing at his hopeful expression.
“You did, but I want to show you something. Please?” The sincere look he gives me makes it impossible for me to refuse.
I give him a shy smile and nod at his question. As he shuts off the Jeep, I ask, “We don’t have to drive to this place you wanna show me?”
“We could, but I thought it’d be nice to walk.” He leaps out of the Jeep. “Unless you don’t want to?”
“It’s nice out tonight. I think a walk sounds perfect.”
We meet in front of the barn. “Hold on one sec.” He disappears into the wooden structure, and returns a few minutes later with a lantern and a pack of matches. I watch as he strikes the tip and places it against the oil-slicked wick. The soft glow illuminates the ground below us. “Ready?”
“Uh-huh.” We take off side-by-side behind the barn and the open fields of the property come into view. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere I used to go a lot when I was a kid.”
We walk in silence with nothing but the sound of the wind and the howl of coyotes off in the distance breaking through. It’s nice. There’s no forced conversation, no strain of trying to find something to talk about—just us, walking in the still of the night. The sound of flowing water breaks through the quiet as large boulders come into view. I follow Wes to a set of stairs made out of large pieces of limestone that snake up behind three massive boulders. Wes starts the climb, but as I look up, my heart drops into my stomach. This probably isn’t the safest thing to do. While I just stand, watching him, he finally stops about four steps up and looks back at me still on the bottom step. “What are you doin’?”