Down Home Cowboy

But they all glowed. All of her friends. Every last one of them. And Alison believed firmly, that it was not with love, but with recently had orgasms. And that, she was a bit jealous of.

“Oh, I met Violet’s father today,” she said, keeping her voice perfectly neutral. “But I forgot to catch his name.”

“Yeah,” Lane said, “that’s Cain.”

“And he’s divorced, right?” she asked, doing her best to sound not the least bit personally interested. Academic. She was aiming to sound academic.

Lane nodded. “Kind of horrifically, if I’ve interpreted the comments he’s made correctly. And I think I have. But as far as I know his wife just kind of disappeared and left both him and Violet.”

Well, that explained a lot about Violet’s attitude. Alison had known that she was coming from something of a difficult home situation, but she hadn’t exactly known the details.

“That’s good to know. I mean, good to know so that I can make sure to relate to Violet in the appropriate way. I’ve helped a lot of women start their lives over, a teenager should be similar. And it sounds to me like she’ll have some of the same issues. Confidence, self-esteem.” Typically, Alison worked with women like herself. Women who had lost themselves somewhere inside an abusive relationship and were working on resurfacing.

But, abandonment, feeling lonely, being afraid that you always would be... That was part of it. Alison was intimately acquainted with some of those fears. And she had come out the other side of them. She had gotten to a place where she actually enjoyed her own company, which she considered something of a triumph. She felt very strongly about wanting to help other people reach that same place. Where they knew that the people who hurt them were the ones who were at fault. Where they knew that it wasn’t something broken in them.

“I think you’re the perfect mentor,” Rebecca said, “because you’re sensitive, but also pretty firm when you have to be.”

“My firmness was hard-won,” Alison responded.

“I know,” Rebecca said, smiling. But not in that way people did when they looked at her and thought only of how broken she was.

That was just one of the many things she appreciated about her friends. They didn’t baby her. They didn’t treat her like a sad little fledgling that needed special care.

“Though I have to say, being a good mentor is kind of a depressing thought since it clearly means I don’t misbehave enough.”

“Are you suggesting we go toilet paper some houses?” Rebecca asked. “Because if so, I’m in.”

“No time for that,” Lane said, “I have to figure out what color bridesmaids dresses to put all of you in.”

Cassie groaned. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” The question was asked in chorus.

“Yes, pregnant. I was waiting for a chance to bring it up. I didn’t want to run over the wedding stuff. But baby number three is officially on the way and that means I’m going to be wearing taffeta for two at your wedding, Lane.”

“Absolutely not. There will be no taffeta at my wedding. I am a classy lady,” Lane said, reaching into the bowl that contained chip remnants and gathering as much as she could into her hand.

“Good Lord,” Rebecca snorted, “can’t Jake keep it in his pants?”

“I can’t keep it in Jake’s pants,” Cassie said. “My husband is a wicked hot bastard, and I was led into temptation and convinced that it would be okay to do it just once without protection.”

Lane and Rebecca looked somewhat wistful and abashed by that. As if they could relate to wanting to take the risk, or perhaps had. Alison could scarcely remember feeling passion like that. Most certainly not for the man she’d been married to for eight long years. Again, she struggled with a bit of envy. Not so much over the babies. Although, sometimes she wished there were babies. But she was thirty-two, and had absolutely no relationship prospects on the horizon. Maybe she would adopt someday. But she certainly wasn’t going to be having the traditional husband and white picket fence scenario. At least, not in the next five years.

“I’m going to make sure that Gage keeps it wrapped,” Rebecca commented.

Rebecca was the youngest of their group, and was of course not quite as biologically predisposed to having full-blown ovarian explosions when people announced pregnancy as Alison and Lane were.

“I’m on the pill,” Lane said, “to avoid just that sort of thing. Because Lord knows lapses in judgment happen. Especially with Finn.”

“Stop it,” Alison said. “You are talking to an extremely celibate woman. And it just feels mean.”

“What about that hot guy that was checking you out at the bar the other night?” Rebecca asked. “Do it with him.”

“What hot guy?” Lane asked, looking between Alison and Rebecca. “There was a hot guy?”

“Some sexy cowboy checking her out when we went out the other night.”

Suddenly, everyone was looking at her. “I said it then, and I’ll say it again. I’m not going to get involved with anyone.”

“Clearly, you have needs that have to be met,” Lane said.

“Well, they’re not going to be met with him.”

“Why not?” Rebecca asked.

“There’s no reason for it to be him. Nothing happened. He... He was looking at me. That’s it. For all we know he could’ve been staring because my makeup looked funky and I had lipstick on my teeth.” She really didn’t want to get into the fact that it was Cain Donnelly who had been looking at her. There was too much small-town weirdness happening without her letting her friends in on it.

And Lane would enjoy it too much. And try to matchmake or something. No thank you.

“He wanted to get into your pants. Literally the only reason men stare at women.”

“Thank you for that, Lane,” Alison said.

“You’re welcome. And, now that I’ve pointed out the very helpful piece of information, maybe you can admit that you actually had a guy who wanted to get with you and you passed it up for no good reason.”

Alison sputtered. “I have good reason.”

“Tell me your reasons. I want a list of them,” Lane said, crossing her arms and staring her down.

Alison held up a finger. “I don’t want a relationship.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? I was talking about hooking up.”

“Well, I’m not in a place in my life where I feel comfortable doing that.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t believe that.” This was when she wished her friends would treat her a little more like a fragile fledgling.

Alison threw up her hands, exasperated, then leaned in and took a piece of pie off the tray that was sitting on the table between them. “It doesn’t matter what you believe. What matters is the truth. And the truth is that I... I don’t feel... Like I should sleep with a guy just to sleep with him.”

“You don’t have to sleep with him,” Rebecca said, her tone sly. “Just have sex with him and leave.”

Alison looked at her younger friend. “Rebecca. I’m shocked. This coming from you, who has literally only ever been intimate with the man you’re in love with.”

Rebecca made a dismissive sound. “I was not in love with him the first time I was intimate with him.” She put air quotes around that phrase. “In fact, I was decidedly not in love with him the first time.”

“Settle down, you horrendous bitches,” Cassie said. “If Alison wants to stay celibate, Alison can stay celibate.”

“Thank you,” Alison said, her tone arch.