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Day would be waking soon, and it was the last day to just relax and get settled in before I had to report to Grant to start unraveling whatever mess he’d gotten himself in with the EPA.
* * *
“Mr. Hallston is a cowboy, right, Mama?” Day asked as he dragged the camping chair I’d made him carry, while I carried all of the smores supplies to the firepit on the other side of the warehouses we’d found the day before.
“He sure seems like it,” I replied, nodding my head at a farmhand who passed by us, flipping his keyring over his finger as he tipped his hat at me, a boyish grin on his face. Fuck, every man who worked here was hot as hell.
“Do you have to be born a cowboy to be a cowboy?” Day huffed, struggling to open the camping chair once we’d reached the firepit area. I set our snacks on the ground and turned to help him.
“No, you don’t. I don’t think he was born a cowboy.”
“What was he before he was a cowboy?”
“I heard,” I said, ruffling Day’s hair before bending to gather the dry pieces of kindling scattered all over the area, “that Mr. Hallston was actually a computer genius who used to live in California and sold his business for a lot of money,” I continued, striking a match and tossing it into the fire pit. The kindling caught immediately, and I smirked, pleased with myself.
“So, he bought this place because he wanted to be a cowboy?”
“Yep, that’s right.”
“I’m gonna be a cowboy one day,” Day said dreamily before snatching the bag of marshmallows and ripping it open, sending them flying.
“Holliday,” I chided, picking one up and throwing it at him. “You get to eat the dirty ones, you little pest.”
“I’m gonna burn them to a crisp anyway,” he retorted, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he shoved three marshmallows onto the wire clothes hanger I’d found in the bunkhouse and turned into the perfect marshmallow roasting stick.
“Gross,” I snorted, shaking open my own camping chair and settling into it, popping open a bottle of beer and sighing as I looked out over the landscape. Everything was washed in golden light, a ribbon of fuchsia creeping up the plains as the sun started to dip past the “golden hour.”
“Do you want one?” Day asked thickly, two raw marshmallows in each cheek.
“I wanted a golden one, not one that’s been burnt to death, okay?”
“That’s so tricky, though!”
I rolled my eyes, bending at the waist to chuck a log in the fire, which crackled and hissed as it caught the flame.
Day ate at least six smores over the course of an hour, jabbering away as I relaxed in my chair. He was really loving this place so far. I was thankful for it, especially since we’d been living in cities and hadn’t been around large animals unless it was at the zoo. He wasn’t scared of anything, though.
Well, maybe just one thing.
“My stomach hurts,” he griped, poking the fire with his roasting stick.
“Well, you ate an entire bag of marshmallows, most of which were in the dirt, kid.”
He snorted, wrinkling his nose and giving me a goofy face before dropping his roasting stick on the ground and tucking his knees to his chest, sighing deeply.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, nudging his shoulder with my fist.
He shrugged, his eyes reflecting the flames and the stars at the same time, which made my heart squeeze. Holliday was such a blessing. He’d been totally unexpected and changed the course of my life, sure, but I wouldn’t be who I was without him.
He was all that mattered to me, and for the first time in several years, I felt like I was finally in a place where I could keep him wholly and completely safe.
“I’m just really glad you brought me here, Mama.” He smiled softly, leaning his head on his shoulder, and sighing deeply. “I like it out here. It’s quiet. It wasn’t quiet in Dallas.”
“I know,” I whispered. Day had hated Dallas, but at the time, it was our only option.
“I think Grandma would have liked it here, too,” he said sleepily, his eyes fluttering. It was getting late, the sun long set and the stars now out in full.
“She did like it here,” I replied, reaching over to stroke his cheek.
