“Where’s Tucker and Sterling?” I wonder.
Blake laughs. “Not you trying to change the subject. Sterling went into town and Tucker is out checking on the love of his life.”
The love of his life is a thoroughbred my younger cousin bought from an Arab sheik during a business deal for some cattle. The high-strung horse is a beauty to look at but not made for this harsh land. You can’t ride that animal out to rope, and you have to be extra careful with its legs but damn, she is a beauty. Sixteen hands with a jet-black coat, white stockings, and a white mane.
“I guess the horse is safer.” Blake blows out a few smoke rings. “No one’s lost a horse to the curse.”
“Just women,” Cane feels compelled to add.
He doesn’t look in my direction, but I can feel the frustration vibrating off of him. He expects better from me, and I’ve let him down. I drop my elbows onto my knees and run a hand over my hair, the unlit cigar tucked between my index and middle finger.
“I slipped up.”
“Into her mouth.”
Blake starts coughing violently to cover a laugh. I pound him on the back a little harder than necessary. He shrugs me off.
“Just don’t fall in love with her and it’ll be fine,” he recommends.
“You say that like you can control it. Love isn’t like a herd of cattle that you can round up and corral in a pen. It’s a wildfire, and it’ll eat everything in its path.” Cane gets to his feet. “Don’t do that to her. You won’t be able to live with yourself.”
I won't. I don’t know what came over me. I only meant to show her the ring. The next thing I was doing was slipping it on to her finger. It felt damn right.
He turns on his heel and stalks into the house, the screen door slamming shut behind him.
Blake sighs. “He’s never gotten over Astor, has he?”
“Nope.” I stick the unlit cigar into the corner of my mouth. Astor was or is Cane’s first love. She’s the daughter of a small-time rancher who lives about an hour west of us. Her pa is a terrible businessman and even worse landowner. He’s got more debt than sense. Cane’s always trying to figure out ways to help them out without Astor catching on. She’s proud and would hate it if she knew that her head was being kept above water by Cane Justice. She confessed she loved him, and he told her that was the worst mistake she’d ever made and that he was going to forget she ever said it. She slapped him and then never spoke to him again.
When she sees him in town, she immediately runs to her truck and drives off. Once she left her groceries on the conveyor belt in the checkout line at Nickel’s because Cane walked in. He paid for the food and then delivered it. A couple hours later, the bag showed up on our doorstep.
Cane ate every piece of food in that bag, including the canned peaches, and he doesn’t even like peaches. Said they tasted bitter. I think it had something to do with Astor, but I didn’t ask. There are things he doesn’t want to talk about.
“It was just a kiss,” I say out loud.
“It’s not me you have to convince.” Blake taps the end of the cigar over the porch railing.
“I’ll explain it to Cane and Tucker tomorrow.”
“It’s not them you have to convince either.” Blake takes my unlit cigar and tucks it into my shirt pocket. “It’s you, Cald. You’ve got to convince yourself that she doesn’t matter, that you can fuck her and walk away. Otherwise, you’re dooming her, and I know you’re not that type of man.”
“I’m not the type to fuck and walk away either.”
“I know, but you don’t have a lot of options. Either don’t care or keep your hands to yourself, and since you’re already having problems with choice B, seems like you’ve got to work on the not caring bit. Don’t think too hard about it and break your brain.” Blake jumps off the porch. I watch until all I can see is the occasional red flare from his cigar when he takes a draw.
At the very least, I can offer Birdie an explanation. She shouldn’t go to bed thinking that I don’t want her and maybe we can come to some agreement. Three months of her being in my bed and then she takes her money and leaves.
A sour taste develops in my mouth. I wipe the back of my hand across my lips to erase it but it sits there like a coating of rotten milk. My boots clap across the wide planked oak flooring until I reach the room across from mine.
I give a sharp knock and open the door. Birdie’s wet eyes fly to mine, and all my good intentions fly out the door. “Fuck.” I cross the room in two strides and sweep her up in my arms, my mouth crashing down on hers. This means nothing, I tell myself. “We’re going to have sex,” I growl against her lips. “We’re going to fuck for three months and then you’re walking away, you hear me?”