with that level of sarcasm, nothing good could come of it. “Jesse mentioned a T.A. slash friend of yours who hooked you up with some last minute sweet art gig . . . show . . . rodeo . . . thing.”
“Art rodeo? Really, Black?”
“I don’t know what all you art people call your snooz-fest get-togethers. Give me a break, Rowen. I don’t speak Lame.”
“And I don’t speak Idiot,” I grumbled. Next time Jesse couldn’t pick me up and Garth Black showed up in his place, I was hitching a ride back to Willow Springs. Or hoofing it.
“Your eagerness to dodge the topic leads me to the conclusion that you’re uncomfortable talking about a certain T.A. slash friend.”
Oh, dear sweet Jesus. “Jax?” I twisted in my seat. “Are you talking about Jax?”
“Yep. That’s the one.” Garth snapped his fingers. “That’s the little fu . . .” Garth froze with his mouth open. The skin between his eyebrows came together. “Fu fu, fu, fu-fu-fu . . .” He was truly at a loss. It was a rare moment to witness with Garth Black. I was going to bask in it.
“Fu, fu, fu . . . fucker ? Is that the word you were going for? Because that’s one of the few that always seems to be on the tip of your tongue.”
“That’s the one,” Garth said, able to form words again.
“And you were having a tough time saying it because . . .?”
After a few moments of deliberation, he hit the steering wheel. “Because Jesse and I made a bet.”
“A bet?” Oh, great. That ought to be good.
“Yes. A bet. We’ve been sitting a lot of night-watches in the fields, and I guess he was worn out on my proclivity toward profanity and I was bored as all fu—” He caught himself again but just barely.
“I don’t know whether to be more impressed that you haven’t said your favorite word in the past twenty minutes or that you just used— correctly— the word proclivity.”
“Be impressed by it all. There’s plenty of it to go around when I’m close by.”
“Enough self-trumpeting. Get back to this bet.”
Garth sped through Willow Springs’s front entrance so fast I almost missed it. “What’s there to get back to? Jesse bet me I wouldn’t be able to give up cussing for a whole month, and I bet him that he wouldn’t be able to give up . . .” A lopsided smile twisted into place.
“That he wouldn’t be able to give up what?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out. The important part is that I will be declared the victor come morning because there is no way Walker will be able to hold up his end of the bet tonight. The past couple of weeks, no big deal, but tonight? He’s totally fu—” That was getting old fast. “ Foiled . Tonight he’s totally foiled.”
“Foiled? What the hell, Black? Who are you and where did the hick go?”
“Oh, Rowen, finally. My self-esteem is back in the sewer where it belongs. Thank you.” Garth slammed the truck’s brakes in front of the house. The porch lights were glowing, and soft yellow light streamed from all of the windows. Even the one at the top, next to the chimney. I smiled, remembering dozens of the nights worth remembering. “Oh, and thank you for real for being the reason I’m going to wake up the winner of this bet. I owe you one.”
“No, you won’t owe me one. Now that I know about this bet between you boys, I’ll do everything I can to make sure Jesse comes out on the winning side.” I threw open the door and set foot on Willow Springs soil. I had to fight the urge to get down and kiss it.
“Fine. Fight it together. Stand by your man. Doesn’t matter to me.” Garth snatched my duffel out of the bed and grinned—I swear he actually grinned—at the mattress that was growing who knows what before sliding up beside me. “Come morning, y’all are going to be chanting all hail the victor, or you and Walker are going to be cross-eyed and tortured. I’m going to be laughing my way into next week.”
“Two minutes. Quiet. Think you can
“Art rodeo? Really, Black?”
“I don’t know what all you art people call your snooz-fest get-togethers. Give me a break, Rowen. I don’t speak Lame.”
“And I don’t speak Idiot,” I grumbled. Next time Jesse couldn’t pick me up and Garth Black showed up in his place, I was hitching a ride back to Willow Springs. Or hoofing it.
“Your eagerness to dodge the topic leads me to the conclusion that you’re uncomfortable talking about a certain T.A. slash friend.”
Oh, dear sweet Jesus. “Jax?” I twisted in my seat. “Are you talking about Jax?”
“Yep. That’s the one.” Garth snapped his fingers. “That’s the little fu . . .” Garth froze with his mouth open. The skin between his eyebrows came together. “Fu fu, fu, fu-fu-fu . . .” He was truly at a loss. It was a rare moment to witness with Garth Black. I was going to bask in it.
“Fu, fu, fu . . . fucker ? Is that the word you were going for? Because that’s one of the few that always seems to be on the tip of your tongue.”
“That’s the one,” Garth said, able to form words again.
“And you were having a tough time saying it because . . .?”
After a few moments of deliberation, he hit the steering wheel. “Because Jesse and I made a bet.”
“A bet?” Oh, great. That ought to be good.
“Yes. A bet. We’ve been sitting a lot of night-watches in the fields, and I guess he was worn out on my proclivity toward profanity and I was bored as all fu—” He caught himself again but just barely.
“I don’t know whether to be more impressed that you haven’t said your favorite word in the past twenty minutes or that you just used— correctly— the word proclivity.”
“Be impressed by it all. There’s plenty of it to go around when I’m close by.”
“Enough self-trumpeting. Get back to this bet.”
Garth sped through Willow Springs’s front entrance so fast I almost missed it. “What’s there to get back to? Jesse bet me I wouldn’t be able to give up cussing for a whole month, and I bet him that he wouldn’t be able to give up . . .” A lopsided smile twisted into place.
“That he wouldn’t be able to give up what?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out. The important part is that I will be declared the victor come morning because there is no way Walker will be able to hold up his end of the bet tonight. The past couple of weeks, no big deal, but tonight? He’s totally fu—” That was getting old fast. “ Foiled . Tonight he’s totally foiled.”
“Foiled? What the hell, Black? Who are you and where did the hick go?”
“Oh, Rowen, finally. My self-esteem is back in the sewer where it belongs. Thank you.” Garth slammed the truck’s brakes in front of the house. The porch lights were glowing, and soft yellow light streamed from all of the windows. Even the one at the top, next to the chimney. I smiled, remembering dozens of the nights worth remembering. “Oh, and thank you for real for being the reason I’m going to wake up the winner of this bet. I owe you one.”
“No, you won’t owe me one. Now that I know about this bet between you boys, I’ll do everything I can to make sure Jesse comes out on the winning side.” I threw open the door and set foot on Willow Springs soil. I had to fight the urge to get down and kiss it.
“Fine. Fight it together. Stand by your man. Doesn’t matter to me.” Garth snatched my duffel out of the bed and grinned—I swear he actually grinned—at the mattress that was growing who knows what before sliding up beside me. “Come morning, y’all are going to be chanting all hail the victor, or you and Walker are going to be cross-eyed and tortured. I’m going to be laughing my way into next week.”
“Two minutes. Quiet. Think you can
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