Page 61 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

“Good thing the decision isn’t on you alone then,” Daphne snaps.

“Respectfully, Daphne, this doesn’t involve you in the slightest.”

“Disrespectfully, Jasper, it does involve me. Considering I’ll be here helping you run this place.” My eyes widen with her words, since a few hours ago she wasn’t sure of her plans.

“Yeah fuckin’ right. Whatever.”

“Jasper, I know damn well I didn’t raise you to speak to another person like that,” Lorraine corrects.

Regardless, Jasper shakes his head and stands to leave the room. I look at Daphne and hurt paints her features, before she schools her expression. I know all too well the insidious tingling rising in my body, the terror coursing through me intimately. My brain works overtime to answer for Jasper’s anger, as if he’s not a fully grown man throwing a bitch fit over something objectively good. Wes looks at me and shakes his head like he can see the hoops I’m jumping through to blame myself.

“He’ll come around. I know he’s got a face that could stop a Mack truck, but he’s not all mean. Promise, he just needs time,” Lorraine offers, but I’m already floating out of my head in the faraway space of fear.

Amber lightsa fire in the family room and we settle around it. Wes and I cuddle on the couch with Liam balanced on his knee. “Names, people. We need to think of a name for the program. Even if Big Al’s stays the same, the program itself needs a name. Let those creative juices flow.” Daphne takes charge, always the motivator.

“Well, what’s our mission statement? What do we want this place to represent?” Wes offers.

The thoughtful silence stretches before Amber speaks up. “A second chance. A place to try again, even when it’s hard.”

Wes beams. “I love it. Second Chance. What else?”

“I think it represents a safe place, a safe place to land and heal.” That’s most important to me, it needs to reflect the security of the farm and orchard. How Wes felt when he came here and the same peaceful quiet I feel when I’m around the horses.

“Sanctuary. What about Second Chance Sanctuary?” Lorraine looks around and everyone shares the same smile of agreement.

“Wow, oh my gosh. It’s perfect. Second Chance Sanctuary. The horses and therapy program will fall under Second Chance and we can see about getting Big Al’s up and running again. They can coexist.” My eyes glimmer with tears of happiness and anxiety, the two mingling together as they often do for me.

Overlapping conversations begin, everyone chattering about what’s to come. I don’t miss the fact that Jasper hasn’t returned and isn’t a part of this moment. Picking up my laptop, I draft the email to the organizer, finalizing the name and coordinating the meeting. Wes presses a kiss to my temple and whispers too many I love yous to count.

FORTY-SEVEN

idiots in love

Dahlia

Our weekendat the farm flies by and before I know it, it’s midweek again. The semester is at a fever pitch, the stress building as I prepare for my last few weeks of school. Not to mention, my thesis deadline is looming.

I head to the library with high hopes to crank out a couple pages of work, praying the isolation of the musky building will be enough to keep me focused. My email dings notifying me of an incoming message from Mental Health Marvels with a meeting invitation.

Monday, November 23 3:00 PM EST

Mental Health Marvels

Grant Acceptance and Onboarding Meeting

The invitation populates to my calendar, just a few days away from my final thesis submission the same week, on that Wednesday. That week might be a nightmare, but it’ll be the last big hurdle before graduation the following week.

I push the panic from my mind in favor of burying myself in writing. My desk is littered with academic papers, research recommendations, and a litany of crumpled papers. The quiethum of fluorescent lights soundtracks my work, the only other sounds are muffled coughs and typing from the students around me. Thankfully, I won’t have to complete a defense or dissertation on my paper, it’s more like a gigantic research paper.

The beginning was tough, but once I laid the outline, the ideas flowed out of me. Meeting Wes helped in an obvious way—he was the inspiration for the program and dropped the perfect location in my lap. The mere mention of Wes warms my heart and I think how differently my life was six months ago, a year ago. I’ve come a long way, there’s no doubt, but I know there is so much further to go.

Hours have passed by, somehow achingly slowly and at light speed, when I leave the library the sky is darkened. I’m ready to start the walk to the subway when there’s a low whistle to my right. My eyes widen as I take in my handsome man, leaned up against his truck, backwards hat and what appears to be a cropped T-shirt. “Do my eyes deceive me? Is that a sexy cowboy in a slutty crop top?” I yell toward him.

“I’m looking for a tutor, maybe some hands-on work? You interested?” His eyes twinkle with mischief as I get closer. The hem of his shirt brushes below his navel, showing off his firm stomach and the trail I want to trace with my tongue, a direct line to his cock. Before I fully reach him, he loops his fingers through my belt loops and yanks me towards him.

“Very interested. Though I think I’ll need payment for my services upfront,” I tease. He leans down brushing his lips over mine in a sensual kiss.

“Can do. I can think of a few ways to pay you.” He takes two handfuls of my ass and pulls me flush to him. “Fuck. I promise I came here with wholesome intentions, and I’m humping you in the parking lot.” Begrudgingly, he moves his hands up to my hips.