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He chuckled lightly and cut his eyes toward me, lifting a brow. “You don’t think I’m his type?”
That was putting it mildly. “You two don’t even live in the same universe.”
Boone shrugged. “We did once upon a time.”
I was still struggling to fit this new piece of information into what I knew about Oscar. “But how? I can’t exactly picture Oscar getting his Balenciagas dirty on a cattle ranch, no offense.”
“Shows what you know. Oscar grew up on a cattle ranch,” he said mildly.
I blinked at him, stunned into silence. I mean, obviously, Oscar had to come from somewhere, but I’d just assumed he’d walked out of a Neiman Marcus store one day fully formed and fabulous.
“You’re joking.”
He shook his head. “I’m not. We grew up together in Texas. I guess you’d call us high school sweethearts.”
My voice rose several octaves with incredulity. “Oscar’s from Texas?” I mentally cackled at this new piece of information, one I was pretty sure Oscar purposefully kept to himself, given that I’d never even heard a hint of a Southern drawl grace his voice.
Boone grinned, seeming to enjoy my stunned reaction. “Sure is.”
I fell back against my seat, trying to take everything in. “But you… and Oscar… how? I mean, I know opposites attract and everything, but still.”
“We had more in common back then.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “You once harbored a deep love affair for Veuve and Versace?”
He chuckled, but something hardened in the set of his jaw as he said, “Nope. We just both shared the same deep-seated desire to get the fuck out of town as soon as we could.”
There was very definitely a story there. “Why?”
Boone shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone want to get away from home when they’re young?” His tone was light, almost flippant, but there was also an undercurrent of defensiveness and warning. It was obvious there was more that he wasn’t interested in sharing.
I thought about pressing the matter, but instead, I found myself nodding. Then I asked, “So what happened? Why didn’t it work out with you and Oscar?”
He laughed again in that deep, sure way. “Same reason I expect you won’t last long out here.”
I turned and glared at him, surprised and a little hurt. And here I’d thought we were opening up and sharing. “You mean because you’re quick to judge and slow to give anyone proper credit?” I sniped, folding my arms across my chest.
Boone studied me for a minute before looking back at the road. “Because some people aren’t meant to live their lives hidden away from the world,” he said, almost to himself. “They’re meant for bigger and brighter things, and trying to keep them to yourself only leaves both of you resentful and bitter in the end.”
I stared at the side of his head, trying to figure out what part of that explanation had been meant to describe me. Maybe none of it. Maybe he’d only been referring to Oscar with his words. But if that was the case, then his melancholy delivery of them had to mean he still had feelings for the man.
The idea should not have made me feel so unsettled and irritable—almost as if I was jealous or something, which I certainly wasn’t. Yes, Boone was fuckable in that gorgeously rough-and-tumble cowboy sort of way, but the possibility of him carrying a torch for his old flame didn’t make him any more or less fuckable. And it wasn’t like I was going to actually fuck Boone, no matter how fuckable he was—firstly, because he wasn’t interested, and secondly, because Oscar would never let me live it down if I proved myself to be a player who slept with his boss.
So why did the thought of Boone still pining after Oscar bother me so much? Other than the obvious fact that Oscar was a douche and that Boone clearly deserved much, much better? And since when did I feel this strange pull toward someone I barely knew, like there was more to it than physical attraction?
I was relieved when Boone pulled off the highway onto the ranch property. The tension in the truck confused the hell out of me.
The moment he put the truck in park, I threw open the door and immediately began unloading the shit from the back. My muscles screamed from overuse, but I ignored the pain.
Birdie had come racing out of the barn as soon as she heard the truck’s tires, so she shadowed me back and forth as I carried the bags of special feed into the storage room. After a few trips, I heard Boone’s sharp call to another hand to help unload the truck, and within minutes, two other guys were helping carry the load.
We emptied the truck while Boone saddled a huge brown horse named Victory. When he was done, he poked his head into the barn office before giving a sharp whistle to the dog to join him as he rode off to do rancher things. She took one last look up at me with her heart in her eyes before turning and bolting after her man.
