“Yeah, or maybe I’m a coward.”
“Coward? What makes you say that?”
I contemplate telling Mallory about things with Tyler then decide against it. If this is just a one-time thing—or hell, even a fling—I’ll tell her about it when it’s done. Talking about my feelings for Tyler right now would only solidify the fact that I have feelings for him, and I don’t want to cultivate that any more than I already have. Not when he’s made it clear that he thinks I’ll be gone by next year.
“Oh, just running away from things in Chicago.”
“Brook, you didn’t run from anything. You’d been talking for the better part of a year about wanting to start over someplace new. And don’t even get me started on you wanting to leave Neal.” I feel a nagging in my stomach at the mention of his name. “Speaking of Neal, have you heard from him since you left?”
I shake my head no, even though she can’t see me. “No, I actually haven’t heard from anyone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like our old friend groups that Neal and I shared. Apparently, they all chose his side in the breakup and I guess I don’t blame them. It’s . . . whatever.” I try to shrug it off, but the bottom line is, it does bother me. I thought we were real friends, but clearly, I was just replaceable.
“Not even Becca?”
“Not really. She came over to see me off the day I moved, and I texted her when I got out here and even sent her pictures of the mountains, but she just responded with emojis. At first I blew it off, because I thought maybe she was just busy, but she hasn’t responded to the last few texts I sent her.”
“That bitch! You guys have been best friends since college—hell, you were roommates!”
“I know, Mal. It does hurt, and I’m not giving up on the relationship. Honestly, I’ve just put it out of my mind while I’m getting my bearings out here. I really love this job more than any other I’ve had, and while I know it’s only been a few weeks, I feel like this is home out here. I have to make a good impression and do my best, ya know?”
I feel like I’m trying to convince myself of this so I don’t do something stupid like fall in love with Tyler Slade and rip out my own heart.
“Well, I’ll drive over to her apartment and confront her if you want.”
I laugh. “No, that won’t be necessary.” That’s Mallory, always a pit bull ready to instigate a fight to protect her older sister. “When are you coming out to visit me?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Soon, I hope. I should be able to take some time off in another month or so. I’m so excited to come out there and meet some sexy cowboys. What’s that situation like? You gone on any yee-haw dates yet?”
“Yee-haw dates?” I laugh. “I don’t think they’d like that. Honestly,” I lower my voice and stand up to check down the hallway outside my office, “it’s like a Hollywood cowboy movie out here—these men are unreal.” She gasps. “Yeah, like everyone—including all their dads—is a smokeshow. You’re going to lose your mind.”
“Yeah, that guy you’re using for the campaign is, like, seriously drop-dead delicious. What’s his story?”
I panic internally at the mention of Tyler. “Yeah, he’s a loner—kind of a brooding mountain-man type. There’s, like, six more of him in the family, so you can certainly have your pick of the litter.”
We both giggle and she jokes about running out of her clinic and jumping on a flight right now.
“Ugh, I hate that I have to wait a few weeks to come see you,” she says. “I have to get back to work, but promise me you won’t go radio silent on me again, okay?”
“I promise,” I say, and we both end the call.
“Canyou take your shirt off but leave the hat on for this one?”
“Gotta be fucking kidding me,” Tyler mutters as he dismounts from Misty. “You know cowboys don’t do this shit, right?” He unbuttons his shirt and rolls his shoulders to pull it down his arms.
I stare at my phone screen, watching the way his muscles flex with the movement. The sun glints off his tanned skin, hitting his belt buckle and bringing back images of that belt wrapped around my hands. That was by far the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
“You promised you were going to go with the flow more and not complain every time we film a TikTok or take photos,” I tease him, knowing full well he hates every second of this. I’m just grateful he’s being accommodating—especially after I decided to take some of my own photos after Kevin’s photo shoot.
“Now what?” He hooks his thumb into the waistband of his jeans and leans his weight on one hip.
“Don’t move,” I say as I capture the image.
“Just stand here?”
“That’s what ‘don’t move’ means,” I say as I squat down to get a better angle. I snap several photos. “Now get back up on Misty and ride past me.”