2. Ethan #2
I’m smiling when I say it and hoping for a little playful banter, since he strikes me as a little uptight, but he remains quiet for several beats.
“I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.” Colt’s shoulders draw in, like he’s embarrassed, and I reach out to touch his arm. He stops walking, staring at my hand, and I take it back. A bad habit of mine that I need to stop. I’m a tactile person, and sometimes it’s hard to switch off.
“Hey…it was a joke. It’s fine. I was just trying to lighten things up and make a joke. Clearly, I failed.”
“Oh.”
He looks at his feet and shoves his hands in his pockets before finally clearing his throat and looking at me. “Would you like to go to town and get boots? I know you said something about creating content, but if you’re here for a while and a part of the ranch, you’ll need boots.”
“I’d love to! Show me the town, Colt.” I spread my arms out and probably look like an idiot, but whatever. “Take me to Chance and outfit me for a ranch visit. I can document the whole thing. I love it.”
Even though it’s early and I’m not properly adjusted to the hour, my exuberance is real. I love visiting new places and discovering literally everything. I may not be an outside guy, but I’m definitely a show-me-where-to-shop guy.
When Colt smiles, he’s positively breathtaking. Something I didn’t get when I met him in the barn earlier. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
He motions to a nearby truck, and after we buckle in, he takes us down the same dusty road I drove in on and…
talks. Nothing usable for me, but it’s nice to listen to how excited he is about something as mundane as taking me to the Mercantile.
A shop that will have everything I need, all in one place.
Except tires, apparently. I need to go to Fort Collins or the local mechanic for second-hand ones if I need tires.
His chatter comes in spurts, almost like he’s not sure what to say, so he keeps adding random sentences. I get the impression he’s not used to talking to people this much and perhaps thinks he needs to fill all the silence.
While he speaks, I notice how the edges of his hair curl out from his ball cap like he needs a haircut, and I blurt out the first thing on my mind.
“How come you don’t wear a cowboy hat?”
Colt glances quickly my way. “What?” Clearly, that’s not a question he was expecting.
“A cowboy hat. You didn’t have one on in the barn or now. Do you not like them? I noticed the men in the yard this morning, and they were all wearing cowboy hats.”
“No…I just prefer ball caps. I mean, sometimes I wear one on the trail rides or whatnot, but I don’t wear one all the time like the others.” He shrugs like he has nothing else to say about it, and maybe he doesn’t.
“Are you still a cowboy without a hat?” It’s just another joke, but Colt considers his answer like it’s a quiz show.
“I think a lot of things make a cowboy, but the hat isn’t one of them.”
The journalist part of me perks up. “Can you tell me what you think makes a cowboy?”
“That’s a long answer.”
His fingers flex on the steering wheel, and it’s just a minor thing, but as a journalist and marketer, I’ve gotten good at noticing small things. If I’m not mistaken, I think the question stirs something I shouldn’t poke right now.
“Okay, that’s fair. We can come back to it. How about we start with something easier? I already know you love this Mercantile place.”
His lips tilt with an adorable smile. “I do.”
“What if I ask something about you? Can I ask how old you are, Colt? If that’s not offensive, I mean? I’m just trying to get to know you.”
He shakes his head in understanding. “No, it’s fine. I figured you’d be asking things about me as well as the ranch. I just turned 40 last fall.”
My jaw drops open, and I’m not fast enough to hide my surprise from him. He laughs softly. “I know I don’t look it. You’re not the first one to have that reaction.”
“I pegged you at early 30s and I’m usually pretty good at guessing. Wow.”
“I was blessed with good genes. My mom always looked younger than her age, too.” His fingers grip the steering wheel again, and he clears his throat. “So, ah, how old are you?” He counters.
“I’m 35.”
Colt is quiet for a moment, and in that short slice of silence, I love how he can ramble on about a store he loves and what I need to be on the ranch one minute and then seem to take far too much time choosing his words when he asks me a personal question in the next.
“And you’re happy roaming like you do? Not having a real place to call home?” He rushes on, “I mean, I’m assuming you have no home base from what you said before about roaming the United States over the past five years.”
It’s not the first time I’ve been asked that. Usually, it’s because people think I should have a mortgage and kids at this age. They mean well, but staying in one place isn’t something I’ve mastered. Maybe one day.
I thought maybe love would keep me rooted at one time, but that turned out not to be the case. Especially when the love wasn’t reciprocated, and I was too blind to see that. I’d rather not think about that time in my life right now, though, and I give Colt a partial answer.
“I like variety and seeing new things.” I settle on. “Home isn’t always a physical place, you know.”
We’ve reached the turn into town, and after flicking on his signal and coming to a complete stop, Colt pulls smoothly onto Main Street.
I sneak a peek at his profile again. His lips rest in a relaxed pout, and his light brown hair poking out from his ball cap ruffles in the breeze from the air vent pointed at him.
His fingers grip and re-grip the steering wheel as my gaze travels up his arm.
He’s strong. That’s obvious, with the bulge of his biceps near the armhole of his shirt. Despite having just come from working in a barn, he’s also impeccably clean. How does that even happen when he was spraying with a hose?
He must feel me checking him out, and he quickly glances my way. I snap my gaze forward. It’s day one on the job. I don’t need the man telling his boss I’m creeping him out and lose the job I need to keep simply because I let my sex drive take over.
Thankfully, the only thing Colt says after catching me red-handed is, “Do you like cream soda?”