Chapter 23
Alex
'Cowboy Stallions ????'
Diego: RED ALERT! ?? I just caught Alex and Rosie splashed with milk! ????
Chris: WHAT?! Details, now! ??
Fran: @Diego dude... I think you might be a bit confused about what you saw... aren't you old enough to have had the talk?! ??
Diego: idiot I mean exactly what I said. They were milking
Fran: I don't want to repeat myself...
Me: Guys, it's not what you think...
Diego: Oh yes it is! There was more sexual tension in that barn than in a porn movie! ????
Me: I hate you all. ??
Chris: wtf?? Do I need to remind you that I'm your boss and that all of this violates every possible hygiene code? Get rid of that milk and don't make me take disciplinary action!
Me: sorry boss... it was kind of an accident
Chris: I'll turn a blind eye this time... if you tell us all about this "accident"
Fran: Alex, just remember one thing for the camping trip: butter makes great lubricant! ????
Me: ... I'm blocking all of you. ???♂?
Diego: Aww, our little Alex is growing up! ??????
Alex: Goodbye. ??
Diego: DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE THIS CHAT! We need all the juicy details!
Me: ... I hate you all. Deeply. ??
I close the chat with an exasperated sigh, tossing the phone onto the bed. The guys will never stop teasing me about this. As if the situation with Rosie wasn't complicated enough already.
I make a mental note to apologize to Chris... I know I haven't maintained a professional attitude and I need to get back in line. I've never behaved like this before and I've always been very serious at work...
What the hell is that little redhead doing to me?
"Little redhead"
Have I started using nicknames now?
Princess...
Shit!
Apparently, I've been using nicknames for a while...
Have I mentioned that I'm screwed?
I run a hand through my hair, still damp with milk, thinking back to what happened in the barn. We were so close... for a moment I really thought I was going to kiss her. And, damn it, I wanted to. I wanted it more than anything else.
With a grunt, I head towards the bathroom. I need a shower and to clear my head. As the cold water runs over me, I try to focus on the work ahead. The horses need to be taken care of, there are fences to repair, a thousand other things to do.
But my thoughts keep going back to Rosie. To the weekend camping trip. To how it will be to have her all to myself under the stars.
"Focus, idiot," I mutter to myself, turning off the water. I can't afford distractions, not with all the work that needs to be done at the ranch.
I get dressed quickly, my mind still a whirlwind of confused thoughts about Rosie. Damn it, I really don't know anything about her. What's going through her head? Is she just playing with me? Is there someone else in her life?
And what if it's all in my head? If this... thing, whatever it is, was just one-sided?
I shake my head, trying to free myself from these thoughts. I have work to do, I can't afford to be so distracted.
I go down the stairs, determined to get to work and not think about Rosie for at least five minutes. But fate, apparently, has other plans.
As soon as I set foot in the entrance, I see her. And she's not alone.
A tall guy, with perfectly combed hair and a toothpaste commercial smile, is standing next to her. Before I can even process the scene, Rosie jumps into his arms with a cry of joy.
My stomach painfully contracts as I watch the guy hug her and spin her in a pirouette worthy of a romantic movie. Rosie laughs, a sound of pure happiness that hurts my chest.
For a moment, I stand still, unable to move or look away. All my doubts and insecurities seem to materialize before my eyes in this perfect scene.
Of course Rosie has someone. Someone from her world, someone who can offer her much more than a simple country cowboy.
I suddenly feel stupid for even thinking there could be something between us. The memory of our almost-kiss in the barn now seems like a bad joke.
I swallow hard, trying to compose myself. I need to get out of here before they notice me. Before Rosie sees how pathetic and disappointed I am.
I can't bear this scene. I can't stay here a second longer. But just as I'm about to turn and flee, Rosie looks up and our eyes meet. For an instant, I see something in her gaze - surprise? Embarrassment? - but then her face lights up in a smile.
"Alex!" she calls out. "Come here, there's someone I want you to meet!"
I feel bile rising in my throat. The idea of approaching, of shaking hands with that perfect guy, of having to smile and make conversation... it's more than I can bear right now.
"I have things to do," I grunt, my voice hoarse and sharp even to my own ears.
Without waiting for an answer, I turn and walk away with long strides. I need to get out, to get as far away as possible from this happy little picture, from Rosie, from everything.
I leave the house almost running, ignoring Rosie's confused and perhaps hurt look. I can't think about it now. I can't think about anything.
I head towards the fences, determined to lose myself in physical work. Maybe, if I push myself hard enough, I'll be able to erase the image of Rosie in that other guy's arms.
But as I grab the tools and start working furiously, I know it won't be that easy. Because that happy laugh, that radiant smile... they keep echoing in my mind, a painful reminder of what I can never have.
I work on the fences for hours, pushing my body to the limit. The sun beats down hard on my back, but I barely notice it. I'm too focused on hammering, sawing, nailing - anything to keep my mind occupied.
But no matter how hard I work, I can't get rid of the dull ache in my chest. The image of Rosie hugging that guy keeps haunting me.
"Hey, cowboy!" A familiar voice makes me jump. I turn to see Chris approaching, a concerned expression on his face.
"Chris," I mutter, wiping sweat from my forehead. "What are you doing here?"
He shrugs. "Diego told me you seemed a bit down. Thought I'd come check on you."
I shake my head. "I'm fine. I don't need a babysitter."
Chris studies me for a long moment, then sighs. "You know, buddy, we might be idiots sometimes, but we know when one of us is hurting."
His words hit me harder than I'd like to admit. I look away, focusing on the fence.
"I don't know what you're talking about, but I would have come to find you anyway. I owe you an apology for my behavior. It won't happen again," I mutter, continuing to work.
But Chris doesn't leave. Instead, he comes closer, leaning on the fence next to me. "Alex," he says in an unusually serious tone, "you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. But I'm here if you need to talk. And I don't need your apologies... I know how you work and how good you are at your job. Everyone lets their guard down sometimes... you're my brother, I'm not going to make a fuss about this."
His gentle tone almost makes me crumble. For a moment, I'm tempted to tell him everything. But I can't. I'm not ready to admit out loud what I feel for Rosie.
"I appreciate you coming," I say finally, my voice a bit hoarse. "But I'm fine, really. I just... have a lot of work to do."
Chris nods slowly, clearly unconvinced. "Alright," he says. "Then... let's get to it."
He grabs some tools and starts working with me. We proceed in silence, but he doesn't leave me alone. A comforting silence... it's nice not having to talk to someone to be understood.
After a while, Chris pats me on the shoulder. "Hey, what do you say we all go to the Rusty Spur tonight? It might do you good to distract yourself a bit."
I hesitate for a moment. The idea of having to pretend to be cheerful and carefree doesn't appeal to me. But maybe Chris is right. Maybe I need a distraction.
"Okay," I finally accept. "I'll be there."
Chris smiles. "Great! See you later then. And Alex... whatever's worrying you, it'll be alright. You'll see."
As I watch him walk away, I feel a mix of gratitude and frustration. My friends are there for me, I know. But how can I explain to them something I don't even fully understand myself?
I return to work, trying not to think about Rosie, the mysterious guy, or what I feel. For now, I focus on the present. On the wood under my hands, on the sun on my skin, on the work to be done.
The rest... well, the rest will have to wait. I'm not ready to face it. Not yet.
The bar is crowded and noisy when we arrive. Chris, Diego, and Fran practically drag me inside, determined to cheer me up. I don't have the heart to tell them that the last thing I want right now is to socialize.
"Hey, look who's here!" exclaims Diego, pointing to a table in the corner.
My stomach tightens when I see Rosie sitting there, surrounded by a group of girls. And next to her, with an arm casually draped over the back of her chair, is him. Mr. Perfect. With his perfectly styled hair—a long wave swept back, held in place by enough hair products to rival a model’s—clean-shaven face, white t-shirt, blue blazer, and matching trousers. White sneakers. Who the hell even dresses like that? His city-slicker vibe is obvious even from the neighboring ranch. And, of course, there’s his million-dollar watch, shamelessly displayed on the arm draped over Rosie’s shoulders.
Of course.
They really do make a perfect pair.
What was I even thinking? Did I seriously believe I had a chance? Clearly, Rosie wasn’t flirting with me.
"Let's go say hello," suggests Fran, already heading towards their table.
I want to protest, but I know it would look suspicious. So, with a heavy heart, I follow them.
"Hey guys!" Rosie greets us with a radiant smile. Her eyes meet mine for an instant, and I think I see a flash of... something. Concern? Guilt? But it passes so quickly that I might have imagined it.
"Let me introduce you to my best friend, Ethan," she says, gesturing to the guy beside her. "He came to visit me from Los Angeles."
Best friend.
The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. I don't know whether to feel relieved or even more confused.
Ethan stands up, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you, guys! Rosie has told me a lot about you."
I shake his hand, trying not to appear too hostile. But I can't welcome him as warmly as the others do.
We spend the next few minutes in forced conversation. Ethan recounts anecdotes from Rosie's life in Los Angeles, and she laughs, adding details and playfully correcting him. They seem so at ease together, so... right.
I can't stand it.
It's obvious that he doesn't want to be just her best friend... Rosie is so perfect, who wouldn't want to have more?
Besides, he's gone to the trouble of following her overseas... just because he's her best friend?
Tell that to someone who believes it.
With the excuse of getting a drink, I move away from the table.
At the bar, I order a double whiskey, hoping the alcohol might dull the ache in my chest.
"Heartache?"
I turn to see the bartender, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, looking at me with understanding.
I sigh. "Is it that obvious?"
She smiles gently. "I've seen that look many times, honey. Want to talk about it?"
For a moment, I'm tempted. But then I shake my head. "There's not much to say. She's... out of my league."
The bartender passes me my drink and I return to the table.
Rosie gives me a questioning look when I sit down, but I avoid her gaze. The evening continues, and I try not to observe too closely the chemistry between Rosie and Mr. Perfect, try not to notice how at ease she is with him, how she laughs with him...
I order drinks two or three more times, or maybe four or five... I don't know.
From time to time, the guys give me glances, so I try to appear as normal as possible.
The thing is, I'm usually not the one who stays on the sidelines of conversations, I'm not the one who doesn't liven up the evenings.
So... I certainly can't lie to my friends who have already figured out pretty much everything.