Lucas
I search my brain for the memory of my phone conversation with Oliver last week as I give my name to the hostess at the entrance to the Outlaw Square Deck. He mentioned something about inviting the two women renting his Airbnb to join us at the free concert on the outdoor stage. I close my eyes, praying he doesn’t see this as a double date. I long to catch up with my friend, not fight off the attention of a female all night.
I scan the tables near the entrance and the seats at the railing for him. Distant movement catches my eye. I spot an arm waving over the patrons and follow it down to see Oliver’s wide smile greeting me. He must be standing in a chair for me to see him.
He’s a goof.
“I see my friend,” I state, pointing in his direction.
As I make my way through the crowd, I crane my neck, trying to see if Oliver’s alone at the table. Unfortunately, with the deck filled, I can’t see past the tables and standing clientele. Making my way around the last table between us, I find Oliver alone at a high-top table for four. Relief floods me. I look forward to a night with beer, music, and my friend. I arrive at the same time as a server approaches, placing four mugs of beer on the table.
“Thought you’d be ready for a cold one as soon as you showed up,” Oliver explains.
Looking past me, he raises his voice. “Mia!”
I follow his line of sight, finding two dark-haired women. They cease their dancing to the 90s rock cover band at the rail and join us at our table.
“Ladies,” Oliver begins, extending his hand palm up in my direction. “This is Lucas. Lucas, this is Mia that owns the Airbnb and her friend Amy.”
I smile, lifting my chin in their direction. Now, in the presence of these two beautiful women, I wish I’d have listened in greater detail when Oliver told me about them.
“So, Lucas,” Mia says with a coy smirk as Amy takes a swig of beer. “What do you do for the rodeo?”
I chuckle, assuming by her facial expressions she’s asking for her aloof friend. “I work for a large livestock contractor and serve as livestock superintendent at many of the rodeos we provide stock for.”
Mia squints, attempting to process my answer. At her side, her tall friend’s interest peaks.
“So, do you ride bulls or broncs?” Mia queries.
“Neither.” I shake my head. “I prefer to keep my boots firmly on the dirt at rodeos. I do mess around with the cowboys from time to time when they practice roping or barrels.”
“You don’t consider yourself a cowboy?” Amy challenges.
“Oh, he’s a cowboy,” Oliver declares. “You should take the boys to the ranch tomorrow and see him in action.”
I smirk as Amy’s eyes grow wide at his suggestion.
“Speaking of boys, I better text your sister to see if they’re behaving,” Mia tells Oliver.
Whose boys? Mia’s or Amy’s?
I return my gaze back to Amy, finding her back turned towards me as she watches the band play on the nearby stage. I take a moment to scan her from head to toe. Her body moves in time with the music. She wears a white tank top with denim shorts. Her long tone legs and defined muscles in her arms hint she’s athletic, while her golden skin tells me she’s not afraid to enjoy the sun. I long to know if her brown hair is naturally curly or if she took the time to put all the loose curls in it for a night out in Deadwood.
Oliver nudges me with his elbow, laughing as he points his beer bottle in her direction before taking a drink. Thankfully, Mia returns her attention to the group from her phone before Oliver may tease me about checking out her friend.
“So the bulls are already here?” Mia asks, and Amy turns back towards the table at her words. “I always assumed the arrived the day of the rodeo.”
“Livestock are athletes, too,” I explain. “In order for them to give their best performance and not be sluggish, we roll into town days before each event. They settle into their accommodations, the vets assess them multiple times a day, they play in the dirt or sand, and most importantly, they rest after their long ride.”
Mia elbows Amy in the ribs. “Who knew there was so much prep for a weekend show?” Her wide eyes encourage her friend to join the conversation.
“We like to ride horses,” Mia states proudly.
“Do you really ride horses or just on a beach in the Caribbean?” I ask the two of them.
“We’re from farms in northern Missouri. We know how to ride horses,” Amy informs snidely. “My parents’ farm kept at least two horses my entire childhood. My mom and I still go on trail rides every spring and fall.”
I tip my head to her.
“I haven’t ridden in about five years,” Mia states. “Amy keeps trying to take me, but I seem to always have an excuse. She let the boys sit on her mom’s horses a time or two.”
“You should really stop by and see Lucas in action. William and Harry will love seeing the calves, horses, and bulls,” Oliver suggests for a second time.
This time, Amy raises an eyebrow.
“Just let me know if you want to stop by one day this week,” I state. “Mornings or early afternoon work best, but I can make anytime work if I know ahead of time.”
“Tomorrow’s supposed to be nice,” Mia urges.
Unwilling to fight Mia and Oliver’s prompting anymore, Amy expels an audible sigh.
“How about tomorrow morning?” she says, heavy with fake enthusiasm.
“Shall we say ten?” I suggest, and she nods with a polite smile.
I like the thought of seeing Amy again in the morning. She intrigues me with her guarded demeanor and her looks. She listens even as she uses all her strength to appear nonchalant.
“How about another round?” I raise my arm to wave at a nearby server.
The band returns from intermission, and the women return to the railing, their bodies swaying to the rock music. I share a knowing glance with Oliver.
We have the best seats in the bar.
I lean toward my friend, pointing my beer bottle in their directions and speaking over the music, but not loud enough for the women to hear. “You could have told me on the phone we’d spend the evening with two hot-as-hell women. I envisioned… Well, I envisioned them to be very different.”
I assumed they’d act like the buckle bunnies at the rodeos and bars afterwards, constantly flipping their hair and brushing against me. I dreaded their overt suggestive behavior and mind-numbing conversations.
“Hold your horses,” Oliver chuckles. “Mia has a boyfriend back home. As for Amy…” He tilts his head from one side to the other and back. “It’s hard to tell.”
“I’m not actively looking,” I state.
“Since when?”
I look my friend straight in the eye.
“I’m taking a break from all that drama,” I respond.
Oliver’s brow furrows. “Drama?”
“You won’t believe me when I tell you,” I say. “Women throwing themselves at me in every town grows old, so I’m taking a break.”
“A break,” Oliver parrots, disbelieving. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
There’s no use arguing with him. In time, he’ll see that this visit to Deadwood is different than all the ones before.