Page 29 of Rope Me, Cowboys

“Uh huh.”

“I mean it,” I said, putting my hand on his. He paused in his frantic gathering and stared at our hands. “I mean, I wouldn’t expect a cowboy to be a painter, too. But that’s a good thing, not a bad thing.”

He swallowed, still staring at our hands. “I got a lot of shit for it growing up around here,” he said quietly. “Guys around here pride themselves on being tough. Not painting.”

“Well, I think it’s sexy,” I said. “It makes you…unpredictable. There’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“I don’t know about that,” Holden said. “I’m pretty much what-you-see-is-what-you-get.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” I said, admiring his arms, clad in a t-shirt. He was wearing light blue flannel pajama pants with little horseshoes on them.

He looked slightly embarrassed when he noticed me studying them. “Our ma,” he said.

“Could you be any cuter?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Holden finished gathering all the paints into his two giant paws and replaced them in the empty coffee canister that they’d spilled from.

“So uh…what’d you stop in for?” he asked, scratching his head and settling his huge frame onto the tiny stool in front of the easel.

“Can I see it?” I asked, nodding towards the canvas.

His face turned red and he shifted uncomfortably. “I usually don’t show people until they’re done,” he said.

I gave him a sly smile. “Even your model?”

If it was possible, his face got even redder. “I—I didn’t think you saw it,” he stammered.

“I saw a little,” I admitted, slipping across the room to stand beside him.

The painting wasn’t exactly beautiful. I didn’t think it would be displayed at the MET anytime soon, but it had a certain appeal. The kind of appeal that calendars with scantily clad women had.

The woman in the painting was definitely me. I thought. She had long blonde hair falling around her shoulders to her waist, long legs that were a couple shades paler than mine, and boobs that were maybe a bit exaggerated. Okay, more than a bit. A couple cup sizes. He’d put a bit of a fantasy spin on me, if I was honest. There were no problem areas on that painting.

The woman wore nothing but a cowboy hat held over her lady parts with one hand. Her other hand was held up like she was covering her mouth, which was a little red O of surprise. Her eyes were wide with shock. It was a pretty way to portray my shame that day in the hall, when I’d run into him naked.

Behind the naked woman was a pastel, prairie landscape, which brought into contrast her milky white skin and bright pink nipples.

“Oh, wow,” I said after a minute. “That’s…interesting.”

To my surprise, instead of getting embarrassed, Holden chuckled. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I usually sell them, but I might keep this one.”

“Is there a market for this kind of thing?” I asked, then winced at the incredulous note in my voice.

“You’d be surprised,” Holden said.

“Well, it’s not the direction I was going to go with decorating the place, but…”

“That’s all right,” he said quickly. “We don’t put them around the house.”

“Do you have any others here?” I asked, glancing around his room. Like the rest of the house, it was completely devoid of decoration or personality.

“I have a batch in the closet,” he said, standing and moving to open the door. I followed and pulled them out, studying them one by one. A buxom redhead in a Betty Boop pose wearing only a cowboy hat and boots, in the desert. A dark-haired, exotic beauty standing on the far side of a wooden fence, the rails strategically hiding certain areas. A blonde wearing nothing but leather chaps, looking back over her shoulder. Another dark-haired exotic beauty riding a horse.

“Now that doesn’t look very comfortable,” I said.

Holden shuffled his feet. “It’s just a painting.”

“I know, I’m kidding,” I said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “So are these all the girls you’ve seen naked lately?”