My horse, Sampson – a six-year-old Thoroughbred cross Clydesdale – whips his head around as the bag thuds against the ground before arching his neck back to look at me as if he’s wondering whatthe hell I’m doing.
“Always looking out for me, aren’t you, boy?” I ask him, scratching the sweet spot on his neck, underneath his mane. I nudge him on and he swiftly moves into a trot. We take to the hills with nothing but each other and the open field to guide us, just like old times.
The irritating beep of the scanner is driving me insane as I wait in line with a bottle of Maker’s Mark in my hand. Every beep radiates through my ears and is somehow getting louder and louder, like when a fuckin’ mozzie decides to pull up shop right at your ear when you’re trying to sleep. I’ve had a huge day on the fences with Colt, plus my impromptu horseback adventure, and I’m dying for a drink, and a cigarette.
I’m almost at the counter when a familiar bubblegum coloured noggin appears through the glass door. Annabeth nudges it open with her ass and stumbles into the shop.God, does this woman ever not look so cute?She notices me instantly and wanders over with a cheeky grin. “Howdy, cowboy.”
“Firefly.”
“Whatcha drinkin’?” she asks, peering over my shoulder at the bottle tucked behind my back.
I can only assume she approves of my selection, because she appears to drop whatever she had intended on doing to grab a bag of chips from the barrel next to her and casually join me in the queue.
“A fan of the Mark are we?” I ask her, cocking my brow.
“I’m a fan of many things, Dallas,” she quips. Her eyes dancing as she smirks.
“Gonna’ join me for a drink?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Her eyebrows wiggle as she speaks, and it does things to me that a man my age should be better at concealing. We make it to the counter, and I slide the cash across the faded wood to Lisa, who flashes me a knowing smirk.
“Come on, I know the perfect spot,” I say to Annabeth, taking her hand in mine.
“The lookout?” A hopeful grin creeps across her face.
“The lookout.” I guide her out of the bottle shop and down the main street to where my ute is parked beneath an old Jacaranda.
Without hesitation, she’s already climbing into the cab like that seat was made for her. To be honest, the more I see her in it, the more I think it might be.
My ute grumbles to a halt a few metres from my usual spot at the lookout.
“This place really is beautiful,” Annabeth says, climbing out of the cab. Although she’s been here before, the serenity visibly takes her breath away.
“It is. I come here a lot when I need a break,” I tell her.
I reach into the backseat of my ute and pull out my portable speaker, connecting my phone and putting on a lo-fi playlist. Somethingabout the gentle tones and the sounds of the world around us feels so peaceful.
The music encompasses the lookout, and the world melts away as I watch Annabeth swaying to the beat, bag of chips in hand. It’s almost dark out, and her hair glows like a bloody lava lamp. I stride towards the dancing pixie, bottle in hand, and take a seat on the table at the edge of the lookout.
My mind quiets, and I allow myself a moment to appreciate this place. How the river wraps around the underside of the cliff before nestling into a small lagoon-style body of water beneath the trees. The only sound for miles is crickets, the water and the occasional cow. I watch her dance, her intricate movements telling me singing isn’t her only talent. The evening glow bounces off her pink curls. I’m captivated by her.
“Why pink?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“My hair? I dunno.” She shrugs, twirling her finger through a curl. “I’ve always loved pink. When I was at uni, I used to dress up like a fairy and do face-painting at kids’ parties. One of the parties was a unicorn party, so I wore a pink wig. I’ll never forget the kids’ excitement when I showed up. To them, I really was a fairy. So, that night I went home via the pharmacy with a bag full of products I barely knew how to use, and enough wine to convince me I could. My dorm mate and I spent hours perfecting the colour over one too many glasses of red. I will never know if we nailed it first go, or if the liquid courage had kicked in, but it stuck. It definitely took some getting used to though. But it’s been so long now, I don’t think I’d feel ‘myself’ without it.”
“I can’t say that I’ve ever met anyone with pink hair before, or a fairy for that matter,” I add.
She beams a smile that could light up a room, even more so than her hair as she sways closer to me, extending a chip in my direction. I lean forward and bite it from her hand, the smirk that follows, a clear sign of her approval. It’s a simple, yet intimate gesture. One that makes my heart skip a beat.
I reach for the bottle beside me and take a swig before offering it to Annabeth. The malt liquid courses through me as I gulp it down, and I instantly feel the burn coat my throat.
“Next time we come out here, I’m bringing my guitar,” Annabeth announces as she finishes her drink and hands the bottle back to me.
“Gonna’ sing for me, Firefly?”
“I can if you want me to, cowboy,” she retorts.
Damn this woman and her sexy mouth. That mouth is going to get both of us in trouble.
