“You make an odd-looking cowboy.” My hand covers my mouth and my eyes go wide as a result of my verbal vomit.
“I wasn’t aware cowboys had a look these days.”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “That
was incredibly rude of me.”
“No offense taken.” He slides off his horse and for a man with one arm, makes it look so easy. Even though I grew up in Montana, I never mastered the art of riding. Sure, as a young girl, I wanted to be a barrel racer, bull rider, and saddle bronc rider. In essence, I wanted to be a cowgirl competing in the men’s division, mostly because of cousins. My father, God rest his soul, put his foot down and was adamant that I compete in the female division. The only problem — I couldn’t stay on a horse. If it went fast, I slipped right off. If it bucked, I went ass over tea kettle. One too many bumps and a bruise too many, my parents had enough and put in me ballet. I didn’t fare much better there either.
This guy, who may or may not be a cowboy, drops the reins and comes toward the fence. He rests his good hand on the thick round post and his foot on the bottom wire, giving me a good look at him. He wears a long-sleeved shirt, but I can tell his arms are muscular, the kind you want wrapped around you when you’re cold, and his eyes are crystal blue, reminding me of the sky on a beautiful summer day. And he looks like he hasn’t shaved for days. The scruff along his jawline and chin is turning into a beard.
“What are you doing this far from town?” He smiles, but it’s not a full on cheesy one. The corner of his mouth lifts, almost as if he’s going to tell a joke.
It takes me longer than it should to answer him. Can he tell that I’m checking him out? “It’s not that far.” I turn toward the direction of the town, or at least I think I do, and realize that I’m not sure which direction I am supposed to go. I also strain to hear the men I came here with and can’t. My worse fear is coming true. I’m lost.
“It’s that way,” he points behind me, laughing.
“It’s not funny.”
“It kind of is. What’re you doing around here?”
“We’re surveying the land. The owners are going to list the property.”
“Is that so?”
I nod and the horse neighs. “I think he’s ready to leave.”
“She,” he says as he rubs her nose. “Are they selling for development?”
“Not sure, but I can let you know if you’re interested in buying it.” I dig in my pocket for a pen, and hand it to him along with my clipboard. He scribbles quickly and hands it back to me. “Hawk? Is that really your name or are you just busting my chops?”
He laughs. “Hawk Sinclair. My family owns this side of the fence.” He extends his left hand to shake mine. It’s awkward but pleasant.
“Bellamy Patrick, local real estate agent and poorly dressed for the outdoors. Wait, Sinclair?”
“Let me guess, you know my sisters?”
“Elizabeth, right? I think we went to school together.”
He nods. “She’s five years older than I am. Our youngest sister is Avery.”
“That’s right. You, though . . . I don’t recall seeing you around town much.”
“I live in Boston.” He eyes me oddly.
“Huh, well that makes sense. Listen, I should get back. I’m supposed to be with the surveyors and . . . oh, there they are.” I wave my arm frantically to get their attention. If Hawk already had to point out where town is, I’d best stay with them so I don’t get lost. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Sinclair—”
“Hawk,” he corrects.
“Right . . . Hawk.” I can’t help the smile that’s spreading across my face. In fact, I’m fairly certain I’m blushing. “I’ll call you when I know more about the property.”
“I’d appreciate that.” He tips his hat, which looks funny considering he’s wearing a baseball cap. It still has the same affect, though, and I find myself staring at him longer than I should. The surveyor yells my name, but I’m too busy watching Hawk climb back onto his horse with one hand, once again, making everything look so effortless. He’s watching me too and once again tips his hat before he instructs his horse to trot away. I continue to focus on him, imagining what it would be like to sit in that saddle with him.
“Ms. Patrick!”
“Huh, what?” I turn to the left and right, and finally around. “Hi, are you done?”
“Only with a quarter of the land or so. After further research, this land is at least a hundred acres. We’re going to have to go back and get our ATVs to survey the rest.”