“Damn.” Garth acted like I’d just driven a knife into his face instead of a tiny twig. It had barely thumped him hard enough to leave a red mark. “Pussy-whipped little bitch.”
“I can’t decide if you’re easier to deal with drunk or sober.”
I stomped my empty Coke can and reached into the cooler for another one, offering Garth one, too. Dad didn’t mind if the guys had a beer or two on night-watch, but Mom had packed Garth’s and my cooler. She knew what I’d learned years ago: Garth didn’t do moderation. At least not very well. It was all or nothing with Garth Black, and that was part of why being his friend was hard. It was also what made being his friend so much fun.
“Drunk. Sober. Doesn’t matter. I’m not a fun person to be around.”
“And here I thought we were having a blast.”
Garth smiled tightly. “Fuck off, Walker.”
Sunny picked that time to stomp his hoof back where he was grazing alongside Rebel, Garth’s horse. Most of the time, Garth and I had to make sure to keep our horses apart because they’d get into it if one looked at the other the wrong way. At the end of the day, they seemed to work it out enough to graze alongside each other. Kind of like their human counterparts could sit across from each other at a campfire and talk “civilly.”
“So? Rowen Sterling?” Garth’s smile tipped up on one side. I didn’t particularly like that smile when it followed the mention of my girlfriend. “How is the first girl in the history of the world to pick the good guy over the fiercely handsome, hung-like-a-stallion bad boy?”
“Rowen’s good. Happy with her recent life choices. Really happy.” I dodged the pebble Garth tossed my way.
“Sure she’s not, shithead.”
“Okay, the name-calling was endearing five hundred shitheads ago. One more, and you’re going to start hurting my feelings.”
“Sorry,” Garth said, tilting his dark hat lower over his forehead. “Shithead.”
Garth had always been the kind of guy who fit the you can’t teach an old dog new tricks cliché, even when I’d met him when we were eight. Someone could devote their entire life to trying to change Garth, and it would be a wasted life. Garth changed for no one—not even for himself.
“Rowen’s great, actually. She had a huge art show that kind of came up last minute when I was over there a couple of weekends ago. She sold almost every piece. A couple even went into a bidding war.” I smiled into the fire. “God, Garth, she’s so damn talented. You should have seen it. I know the general consensus is that we country folks are nothing but dumb hicks who wouldn’t know Michelangelo from paint-by-numbers, but man. You could be the dumbest, blindest person on the planet and still feel something looking at one of her pieces.”
“That art appreciation speech did nothing—nothing—to ease my Brokeback fears, Walker. Next time you decide to turn into a little girl, give me some warning, okay?”
Garth had been one of my best friends for over a decade, but most of the time, a rock would have been a better companion. “Don’t make me drag you into that tent and do filthy cowboy things to you.” I winked at him and blew a few air kisses.
Garth chuckled. “You are one sick son-of-a-bitch, Jess. I knew there was a reason we were friends.”
“You mean it’s not because we lift each other up and bring out the best in the other?”
Garth almost choked on his sip of Coke. “No, that’s definitely not the tie that binds because I think you suck. At everything. Hardcore.”
“Thanks, friend.”
Garth lifted the can my way. “So a big, fancy art show for Miss Sterling, eh? Not that I’m simpatico with art shows, but are most of them thrown together at the last minute?”
“No, I don’t think so. I think they usually at least have longer than twelve hours to get it set up.”
“Twelve hours, eh? And whose genius idea was that?”
“One of Rowen’s T.A.s. Her friend Jax.” Talking about Rowen made me miss her even more. Thank God spring break was a mere two days away.
“Is Jax a man or a woman?”
“A guy.”
“And is this guy Jax . . . Rowen’s T.A. or friend?” Garth’s words were slow and deliberate. I didn’t get where his sudden interest in Rowen’s school life had come from.
I shrugged. “Both.”
“Oh, hell no.” Garth slapped his leg. “Please tell me you’re not that dumb, Walker. Please don’t tell me you believe this T.A. douche has weaseled his way into your girl’s life because he really wants to be her friend.”
“They are friends.”
“Sure, friends to Rowen, but you know what he’s after.” Garth paused, waiting for something from me that never came. He rolled his eyes. “Jax the T.A. douche-packer is looking for a little friends-with-benefits action.”
I felt my forehead wrinkle as I considered what he’d just said. I wouldn’t label Jax as upstanding, but he didn’t seem like a snake either. Yeah, he’d been a bit of an asshole by not telling Rowen I was outside waiting for her, but that wasn’t really a big deal.
Or was it?
Garth had planted a seed, and I was recalling that night with a whole new lens. Those lingering looks he’d given Rowen. The way he’d studied her hand in mine. Going out of his way to casually insult me and keep me out of the room. Did Jax have a thing for Rowen, or was it all a string of coincidences? I didn’t know. I couldn’t be sure. While I didn’t like the idea of another guy putting the moves on Rowen, I trusted her implicitly.
“Shit. And I was the one who barely graduated high school. You might be book smart, Walker, but you are dumb as fuck when it comes to the rest.”
“You graduated high school?” I made my best surprised face. I knew Garth had graduated. It was just barely, but that wasn’t because he wasn’t book smart. He just wanted everyone to think he wasn’t. Well, that . . . and the girls. The girls were a definite distraction for Garth in high school. They still were.
“Go fuck yourself, Walker.” Leaning into the pack behind him, Garth dropped his hat over his face. Guess I was taking the first shift.
“Do you have any other colorful vernacular in your vocabulary? Because when you use it every other sentence, fuck really loses its punch.”
Garth sighed, muttering what sounded like another colorful vernacular. “Fine. Go screw yourself, Walker. How’s that for packing more punch?”
“Better.” I clapped a few times. “Bravo.”
“We all know you’ve been doing plenty of screwing yourself with Rowen gone.” He was muttering again, but he definitely meant for me to hear it. “So I suppose me telling you to go do it is redundant.”
Sighing, I stood and stretched my arms above my head.
“Where the hell are you going?” Garth called as I headed into the field.
“Off to screw myself,” I answered with a wave.
When Garth didn’t have an immediate comeback, I glanced over my shoulder. He was sitting up, his expression a mixture of shock and disgust.
“Black, I’m kidding. I’m just checking on the horses.”
“Dammit, Jess! Jerking off is not a joking matter!”
I chuckled as I approached Sunny and Rebel. They were munching away, content with their temporary truce.
“Back to the matter of spineless city boys moving in on one of our girls . . .” Garth was behind me, trekking through the tall grass with a couple of apples. Sunny and Rebel’s heads snapped up. “You need to put that shithead in his place.”
“And his place would be?”
Garth held out an apple to each horse and flashed me a wicked grin. “Beneath your boot.”
“I’m not worried.” That was a bit of a lie. The more I thought about it, the more Jax and his relationship with Rowen worried me.
“You should be.”
“I trust Rowen.”
“Good for you.”
Garth’s sarcasm was not lost on me. I’d had a decade of it directed my way. “Black . . .”