16. The Cowboy’s Castle
SIXTEEN
the cowboy’s castle
Dahlia
Summer is in full swing as the July heat beats down on the city—our poor window unit is coughing like it’s on its last leg. Thankfully, Wes has assured us he’s got great air conditioning in his cabin.
Wesley
I’m about 30 minutes out, you girls ready for the weekend?
I’m attempting to smother the butterflies in my stomach at the thought of seeing Wes.
Seeing Wes and staying at his place.
Seeing Wes, staying at his place, and maybe having a direction for my thesis.
That’s the entire point of this; getting my thesis sorted out, and staying at Wes’ is an added benefit. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen him. This obsession has to be a side effect of prolonged horniness. I’m getting brain damage from being a slut.
Maybe I can pack my vibrator? Will I need it? Is it fucked up to pre-plan a bean flick at your friend’s house? My internal monologue is rudely interrupted by what can only be described as an elephant tap dancing production—the loud thuds crashing to the floor and a murmured “fuck” from Daphne.
“Are you alive?” I yell, zipping up my backpack, heading to the hallway.
Daphne is sprawled on the floor in front of our personal version of hell, aka the junk closet.
We have a lot of random shit and the hall closet is our catch-all.
It looks like Daphne triggered an avalanche of shoes as she lays covered in Pleaser heels and our thrifted Demonias.
“Death by fringed stiletto is how I want to go.” I reach my hand down and help her up.
“I wanted to grab my brown boots. I felt the occasion called for it.” Sure enough, she’s got a pair of brown buckle boots, cunty enough to be considered cowgirl-adjacent.
“Fitting for a little honky-tonk honey, for sure. You looking to impress a certain cowboy out there, or—?” I drift off and stick my tongue out, much to Daphne’s annoyance.
“Not the demon spawn related to your lover boy, no. Perhaps there will be a few hunky men or women, who wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay with me.” Daphne licks her lips like the harlot she is and we laugh.
As much as Daphne and I joke about our escapades, we’re both painfully single.
Now that I think of it, I don’t think Daphne’s had any romance in the last six months, and if she has, it wasn’t worth mentioning.
Even her date with Jade remained strictly platonic, since she says Jade seems to be hung up on someone else.
“Hush up about my lover boy. I’m sure we can find you someone to ride out there,” I say with a wink.
Downstairs, Wes is leaning against his truck in light wash jeans and a sleeveless gray band tee. “Looking good, Daphne. Princess.” He leans down in a regal bow before extending his hand to grab our backpacks.
When he rounds the truck hood, Daphne mocks, Princess, and I shove her into the backseat.
I climb into the front and look over to Wes, immediately locking in on the strip of his side revealed by his shirt.
Is this what Victorian men felt like seeing an ankle for the first time?
Wes is built as if he spent his life in the NFL and decided to retire to a life of farm labor.
Firm, strong muscles, with softer edges honed from years of sweaty work.
The thought of Wes using those muscles to toss me around has me turning to look out my window as I mentally banish my horniness to its cage.
I have at least an hour and a half sitting inches away from this man’s slutty obliques, I need to get it together.
I’m more worn out than I thought, because the lull of the drive has me nodding off before I realize it.
I’m in the weird spot between awake and asleep when I realize Daphne and Wes are talking. I’m not sure how long I’ve been out for, but if they’re keeping each other occupied, I feel less bad for knocking out.
Just when I’m ready to continue sleeping, I hear my name mentioned.
I’m about to inform them I am very much awake now, when Wes sighs and says, “I get it and I would never push her for more than friendship if it’s all she wants.
” Like the nosy bitch I am, I pretend I’m still asleep.
“If she wants more, it’ll have to come from her.
The last thing I’d ever want to do is make her uncomfortable. ”
“I’m just saying. She’s guarded and nervous, and equally stubborn so there’s a chance she’ll deny the connection you two have until you’re in side by side cemetery plots.
Here lies Wes and Dahlia, friends forever.
And you won’t even get that, because if she’s getting matching tombstones with anyone it’s gonna be me. ”
Wes is laughing and I’m trying so hard to remain still. I feel like I’m about to pop a blood vessel. Daphne is fucking insane, but we love to joke we’ll be buried on top of each other so we’re still close, even in the afterlife.
“Great, so even in death I can’t have her?
” Unfortunately my body’s reaction to this information is a sharp inhale, one where I’m choking on my spit.
So, not only do I have to pretend I just woke up, but I’m about to choke to death because I’m an eavesdropper.
“Hey, you good? All that snoring over there got you choked up?” Wes reaches over to pat my back and I nod my head.
“I’m good. I think I’ll live.” With a final pat, his hand lingers a second longer between my shoulder blades before pulling away. I must be more touch starved than I thought because I immediately miss the feeling.
A few songs later and we’re turning off the highway to get to the farm. Wes rolls the windows down and the collage of trees and pasture lining the path follow us all the way to a dirt road left turn.
“The apples are back there, the orchard’s seen better days.
The cabin’s got two other rooms besides mine, so plenty of room for y’all.
” I’m downright giddy by the time we pull up to the front of a quaint wooden home, with a lovely little porch.
“Jasper’s probably still working until later, so we can eat at the main house with the family and we’ll talk with him and his parents then.
The weather’s nice too, maybe we’ll do dinner on the back deck tonight. ”
The thought of meeting new people already has me sweating, but considering these people are close to Wesley, I’m even more nervous. We hop out of the truck and Wes points out the direction of Jasper’s cabin, the main house, and further off in the distance, the horses in a fenced in area.
“Paddock,” Wes explains, seeing me stare at the horses.
A faded red barn sits tall between the small fenced area and Wes’ cabin.
The farm is well-worn, like it’s seen many years of hardworking hands—paths traced in the dirt and gravel, the metal handles on the barn doors discolored where they’ve been yanked open time and time again.
“The cowboy castle in all its glory, I like it.” Wes gifts me a smile and takes his giant man steps up the stairs. You know, because guys have to take the stairs two at a time for some reason—it seems to be a universal thing.
Wes gives us a tour of his cabin—his gigantic plush couch, the kitchen island doubling as his dinner table—before taking us down a hallway. The hallway glows with a pretty vintage light hanging from the ceiling. He’s pointing out the rooms before stopping in front of the last one.
“And this one’s mine. I’m a pretty light sleeper so if either of you need anything you can always knock or text me.
” Of course, Daphne, being the instigator she is, announces she’s taking the room furthest from Wes’, leaving me to the one right by his.
She wiggles her fingers in a cheeky goodbye before ducking into her room and I tell myself there is literally no reason for this to be a problem at all.