9. Matty
Chapter 9
Matty
I ’M OUT AT an alpaca farm when I get an alert that Dawn’s sent a photo. It takes everything I have not to shove the animal away from me and yank out my phone to see what she’s sent. I’m worse than Pavlov’s dog when I hear the alert. But I keep myself together, and when I finish the check-up of a particularly feisty male alpaca—did you know those guys can spit five feet? It’s gross—I pull it up.
It’s a picture of a lacy black masquerade mask, and the things it does to my insides should concern me.
Suddenly, one of the alpacas behind me sneezes, and I flinch.
TJ, the farmer, starts laughing. “I think he got you, Doc.”
I reach up and feel the mucus on the back of my ball cap. And because I’m a professional, I squirm and make an ew sound. TJ laughs even more as I pull my hat off and cuss. It’s covered in alpaca snot.
Folks, there are precious few things that can ruin a ball cap. Alpaca snot is one of them. I cuss and look at the cap in disgust.
TJ waves me to come with him. “Come on. I’ve got a spare hat you can borrow.”
I follow him to the barn, tossing the ball cap in the trash bin as we go, and he produces a well-worn cowboy hat from a clutter-filled work area. I throw it on with a thanks. “How do I look?”
The old man chuckles. “Like a vet playing at being a cowboy.”
“Perfect,” I laugh. “Let’s finish these check-ups.”
It’s another hour of checking on the animals, because TJ and his wife Sue run the state’s only major alpaca farm and it’s quite the operation. By the time we’re done, I’m a grimy mess, but that’s pretty standard for farm days. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I love the animals I get to see at the clinic, but it’s a whole different ballgame when you’re staring down a herd of alpacas, chasing goats, helping a cow give birth, or staring into the knowing eyes of a horse.
I snap a picture of the cowboy hat before I give it back to TJ.
“All good, Doc?” TJ asks, straightening his own hat as he hangs the other one up.
I nod. “All good. You shouldn’t need me for another six months, max. Unless you get a bumper crop of crias,” I joke, referring to baby alpacas.
He shakes his head. “We’re all done. But the missus wants you to have something she knitted from the herd—you got a few more minutes?”
“Of course.” I grin and follow TJ to the house, where Sue presents me with a knit beanie.
“For those five days it gets cold enough to wear one,” she says with a grin.
“It’s awesome. So soft. Thank you!” I lean down to hug the shorter woman, no longer surprised at the incredible strength in her arms when she embraces me.
Back in my truck, I send Dawn a photo of the cowboy hat.
Dawn
I KNEW YOU WERE A COWBOY!
I laugh.
Still not exactly a cowboy
You sent me a picture of a cowboy hat, James—what’s a girl supposed to think? You’re a cowboy. Admit it.
Nope
I better see a cowboy hat at the masquerade ball.
…
Ooh, that means yes. That DEFINITELY means yes.
It means maybe.
Maybe is yes.
Maybe is not yes.
Yes it is.
You’re a maniac
A maniac who likes texting you, the cowboy. But I gotta go. Chat later?
Of course.
xx
I sign off with another cowboy emoji, then head back to Lucky. Part of me feels a bit dishonest that I’m keeping the cowboy thing going, but I’ve read plenty of cowboy romances and I take care of large farm animals. Close enough.
Still, by the time I’m back at the clinic and have changed into a set of scrubs to see a few pets for the rest of the day, I’m a little freaked out. After sending Reid a text, I scoop Killer into the sling that Willa insisted I use and find Reid patrolling the town square.
“Hey!” I close the distance between us.
Reid nods, one hand absently scratching under Midnight’s chin. “You finally succumbed to Willa’s demand that you wear Killer?”
I tip my chin at the sling around him that holds the black cat. “Just trying to be as cool as you, Officer MacKinnon.”
“Fuck off,” he says good-naturedly. “What’s got you so keyed up that you needed to come find me?”
“Dawn thinks I’m a cowboy.”
He does a double-take. “Come again?”
I sigh and relay the situation, which, of course, he finds utterly hilarious.
“Wait—you sent her a picture of a horse?”
“That’s what I said.”
“And then,” he laughs, “one of a cowboy hat?”
I cross my arms. “Reid. I’ve been telling you that for about five minutes, man. Are you gonna help me out or what?”
He keeps chuckling. “I don’t know why it’s so funny, but it’s just…” he wipes a tear, “damn funny!”
“Is it, though?”
This makes him laugh harder.
I try a different approach. “C’mon, man. You lived in Miami. You’re classy and I’m not.”
Reid doubles over, tipping Midnight into the grass. “ I’m classy? Wait till I tell Willa that’s what you said about me. Even better—wait till I tell Ox!”
I make a noise of frustration. “You can’t tell Ox.”
But the dude just hits a button on his shoulder walkie-talkie thing and speaks into it. “Ox. Go to private.”
“On it.”
Reid flashes a grin.
I glare at him. “I hate you so much right now.”
Ox’s voice comes through the speaker. “Talk.”
“Matty has this mystery woman thinking he’s a cowboy, and now he’s gotta dress like one at the masquerade ball later this week.”
Immediately, the sound of laughter crackles through the radio. “Oh shit,” Ox heaves, “that’s amazing. Matty ? A cowboy ?”
“Okay, now you two are just being mean. Besides, I’m on farms half the week!” I protest.
All of this just makes them laugh harder.
“You know what? I’m leaving.” I spin to leave, but Reid hustles around me.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he says, a shit-eating grin on his face, “you gotta let us help.”
“Let Reid help,” comes Ox’s voice. “I need to go.”
I point at Reid. “You’re not being helpful. You’re being an asshole.”
“That’s fair. I’ll behave. And you know I’m only giving you shit because I love you. But we really gotta get you suited up for this thing.”
I groan. “That’s why I came to you in the first place, man!”
He whips out his phone. “Is there, I don’t know, a cowboy outfitter store around here?”
I gesture toward the beach. “You tell me, Reid. We’re a beach town. What do you think?”
He points to my boots. “You’re the one with cowboy boots.” Then it hits him. “Wait. You’re the one with cowboy boots. Holy shit, Matty—you are a cowboy!”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
In the end, I order a black cowboy hat from a store a few hours away that swears they can get it to me in time, and a black mask from Amazon. I half worry I’m going to look like a guy from an old black-and-white television show, but what can I do?
“One last thing.” Reid holds a hand out to keep me from leaving.
I cut my eyes to him. “I’m hungry and I need to get home to let Kitty out.”
“You need one of those giant belt buckles.”
“Fuck you.”
His cackles follow me all the way to my truck.