Chapter 17
HURT CHICKENS HURT CHICKENS
I stare out the windshield at the glob of bird shit. I need to wash the truck. Looking around the inside, it’s not too clean either. A couple of tokens at the car wash and I could have this truck a lot cleaner.
I dig the to-do list out of my pocket and reread it. After this stop, I gotta go by Elena’s office and get the next round of meds for Big Bertha, and another treatment for Daisy, though it pains me to admit I think there’s more going on with her.
Scratching at the side of my jaw, I watch Chuck, a former bull rider, saunter from the hardware store, a plastic bag dangling from his hand.
“Okay,” Quinn says decidedly. “I’m ready.”
She’s been workin’ up the courage for our first public appearance as a married couple.
Though we got hitched at the courthouse last week, the paper just ran our announcement, and we’ve been layin’ low at the ranch.
I’ve been training nonstop, and Tate’s been working the ranch with Love to allow for me to train.
That means this exciting day of errands to the hardware store, Dr. Vargas’s and the Feed ’n’ Seed is our first time being out in Sable Sky together.
I’ve thought about Amelia recently. What she’d think of this little situation I’m in.
She’d hate her parents for doing it to me, but I know she’d be proud to have Quinn be the stand-in wife to get me out of this pickle.
The way Quinn is with Sadie is so special, it’s got me thinking about the future and what could be on the horizon.
I look over at Quinn and remind myself that she isn’t really my wife, though the more she uses me like a sex toy (no complaints), I realize, untangling ourselves at the end of this ain’t gonna be pretty.
Maybe young people can turn their feelings off and Quinn’s gonna be just fine when she goes.
She’ll miss Sadie, that much I know, but maybe she’ll move on from me, and I’ll just be the old cowboy she banged while she was making her award-winning movie. I don’t know.
What I do know is that I am falling for her, but I can’t admit that or even let myself think too much about it, because right now, I need to stay focused on the rodeo. The win. The money to secure everything I hold dear.
“It ain’t that big of a deal, honey,” I attempt to calm her nerves, but I’m not sure it’s helping. She twists in the passenger seat, wearing her little overalls and white tank top today, lookin’ like a hard-on in the flesh.
“It is a big deal, Landry! I’m already the new, weird, hot girl in Sable Sky, and now I’m married to the town’s most eligible bachelor!
They’re gonna hate me, or question me, and then they’ll start digging and they’ll figure out it’s a hoax and you’ll lose everything and it will be all my fault!
” she exclaims, that forehead vein making an appearance again.
I reach over to take her hand in mine, weaving our fingers together, and squeeze.
“We’re gonna go inside and I’m gonna buy some wood to replace the kickboards in the stable.
We’re gonna check out, and if anyone asks, I’ll say, Why yes, this is my wife, the new, weird, hot girl in town.
” I take my hat off the dash, where it sits while I drive, and place it on my head, still holding her hand.
“No one is gonna hate you. And I’m not this eligible bachelor that you stole from the market. ”
She tsks, shaking her head. “Typical hot guy. You don’t even know the whole town wants you.”
“I’ve been single for six years, and not once have I woke to a mob of pantiless women on my porch, eager to get with brokenhearted Landry Vaughn and his run-down ranch.”
Her nerves slide away, and disappointment replaces where anxiety was. “Don’t talk about yourself that way.”
I snort. “What? Honestly?” I drape my hand over my chest. “Honey, I’m here with you right now because I’m about to lose my daughter. Now, that’s just the stark cold truth. I’m not trying to spin a sad tale. It’s just how it is.”
She looks at the blue-and-white upholstery of the seat, tracing the vinyl piping with one fingertip, the same fingertip that traced the crown of my cock the other morning. My cock stiffens just watching her touch the damn seat in my truck. Watching her go at the end of this may kill me.
I shake my head and give our joined hands a little tug. “C’mon. I need to get that wood so we can get to Elena’s before she gets busy.” I peer out at the hardware shop, then back at Quinn. “How’s that? Now I got you all sad instead of nervous.”
She laughs, but it falls away quickly. “Okay, I’m ready.”
No one in the hardware store seemed to notice we existed, so the big moment of announcing herself as my wife never happened. Quinn bounces her leg next to me as we sit on a tiny vinyl bench in the veterinarian office, waiting for Elena.
She’s always making me feel better, with the way she talks to Sadie, or surprising me with a hot meal, or sneakin’ into my room to suck my dick.
Jesus, I can’t believe that really happened.
Either way, as her fake husband, I’ve taken it upon myself to make Quinn feel better.
To return some of the favor. Right now, she’s nervous, and while I don’t think for one second she ought to be, still, I know I can’t say that.
Women do not like when you tell them not to feel what they’re feelin’, that much I remember.
Instead, I choose to take her mind off it.
I bump my knee into her thigh and almost chuckle looking at our legs together. This woman is half my size. I could toss her over my shoulder like a sack of feed and not even feel it. “Hey,” I whisper, because office lobbies make me whisper, even though it’s not really necessary here.
“Hmm?” she bumps her knee into my thigh in return.
“You got a pet back home?” She didn’t know the difference between a rooster and a chicken, and I’m ninety percent certain that mounting Daisy was her first time touching an actual farm animal.
She winces, pulling her long hair over her shoulder, running her fingers through as she launches into the story of Magnum, her childhood hamster who she unfortunately lost. “I had this plastic ball that he’d roll around in,” she explains, and I’m listening, I am, but I’m also a little transfixed by the blunt ends of her hair.
She keeps talking about Magnum and the ball he ran in, and I keep replaying the image of her straddling me backward, sucking me deep, the ends of her hair tickling the middle of her back as I played with her pussy.
She squeezes my leg but leaves her hand there when she’s done. “Are you listening?”
I nod. “Magnum in the plastic ball with the little poop that spun around with him.”
She smirks. “That sounds like a weird game of Clue.”
I laugh, and I haven’t thought about that board game in years. I haven’t sat in the lobby of the vet’s office and laughed in years, either. “So the missing hamster, that’s your only pet?”
“Yeah, but we did find him… eventually,” Quinn says, then whispers, “rest in peace, Magnum.” Still dragging her fingers through the ends of her hair, finally I clamp my hand around hers, and her eyes jump to mine. “Was my fidgeting making you nervous?”
Her knee bounces.
I lean over, stop her bouncing knee with my hand, and press my lips to her ear. “I kept my focus on the ends of your hair when you were on top of me the other mornin’, so watching you play with your hair is doing some Pavlovian stuff to me right about now.”
That was… bold.
I’m a lot of things. Grouchy, old, right now I’m also hungry. I’m tall, I’m strong, I can be arrogant when I’m in the arena.
But bold is not a word anyone would use to describe me.
She brings it out of me.
Her eyes go wide and her cheeks flood with pink, and I think of her boots, all glittery and fancy, like something Benson Boone would wear at a concert. “I’m thinking next time you want me at your disposal, keep those pink boots on.”
A shy smile curves her full lips as she swats at my bicep. “I knew you just needed to warm up to those boots.” She shimmies in her validation. “Mabel and Sadie love them, too.”
I’m about ready to tell her that the reasons I like her boots and the reasons my kid likes her boots are entirely and utterly different, but our banter is halted when Elena appears, her dark hair in a braid swung over her shoulder, hiding the embroidered name on her coat.
I get to my feet. “Hi, Elena, you got my message?”
She nods, smiling as her gaze slides to Quinn. “Hello,” she greets, moving her braid from her lapel so that Quinn can clearly see her name. “I’m Dr. Elena Vargas,” she says as they shake hands.
Quinn then slides her hand into mine, and I sink my fingers into her palm, wanting to show support and unity. Elena’s eyes fall to our joined hands, but her smile never falters.
Scattered around us in the waiting room are a few faces I know, since everyone knows everyone in Sable Sky.
Adjacent with her Yorkie puppy in her lap is Renee, the mother of a classmate that Tate and I went to school with.
I nod my head at her, tipping my hat to say hello.
Around her are a few other folks I recognize from the rodeo grounds and diner, too.
All of that is to say, I have an audience.
“Elena, this is Quinn Farley.” I clear my throat and despite the brief awkward moment, I love the way Quinn squeezes my hand for comfort.
I’ve missed being someone’s comfort, someone’s confidant.
“My wife,” I add, then immediately tack on, “and the filmmaker from UBS. She’s making a documentary about my return to the arena. ”
“His comeback victory,” Quinn adds, cozying up to me by wrapping her free hand around my bicep, tipping her head against it, too.
“I moved here from San Francisco,” she says, adding detail because the more detail, the less people question.
“I fell in love with more than Sable Sky,” she says, patting my arm before nuzzling into me again.
Elena looks between us, her smile slowly fading. “Well, I can’t wait to see you ride, Landry. And, Quinn,” she says, focusing solely on my wife. “I can’t wait to see your film. Will there be a local premiere?”
I look down at Quinn because that’s a great question. There’s been so much brewing between us, and her and Sadie, that the reason she’s here—the film—had ridiculously kind of slipped my mind lately.
Quinn nods. “Yeah, we’re gonna do a full dinner, screening, and party. I’m not sure that a location has been scouted just yet.”
Elena smiles. “Well, I look forward to it.”
We get the meds, Elena and Quinn make small talk about the weather here versus the weather in California, and Elena shares an anecdote about touring a college in California but not being able to go there because of the heat then ironically moving to Texas for love.
She asks Quinn which of the Vaughn Ranch animals is her favorite, and she surprises me by naming Big Bertha instead of Daisy.
“She’s got a backstory, that’s why she’s a jerk.
I have to believe she’s been hurt. You know the expression, hurt chickens hurt chickens. ”
Elena snorts, bringing her hand to her mouth. “You’re funny.” She looks at me. “You did good with her.”
Later that evening, we attend the Sable Sky barbecue, one that typically takes place just four weeks before the rodeo. Riders and their families come and cut loose, enjoy brisket and beer, live music, and face painting. It’s great.
And this is the first time I’ve been in six years. Trauma has managed to erase almost all of my memories of the last time I came to this barbecue, leaving the beautiful opportunity to make new memories.
A few people are surprised to learn that I married Quinn, but when they learn she’s the filmmaker that came to town to make a movie about me, they can’t stop cooing and awwing. Everyone is buying it.
I don’t think it’s because we’re good liars.
Sadie plays with Petunia and Alice on the swing set while Tate, Love (with Lola on her lap), Quinn, and I enjoy a few beers under the Edison lights, watching the girls laugh and play. We chat, and people shuffle over to say hello, kicking up dirt, laughing a little too loud, hugging hard.
Tonight I remember that Sable Sky is a wonderful place to live, I just haven’t been living.
I’ve been surviving, barely. But under the lights, all the people that matter to me nearby, amidst the dust and full of desire, I feel like I can finally breathe.
For the first time in a long time.