#{yearling}

“Drinking and music are plenty fun,” she said. “But you need to actually get out there. Seriously.” 

You rolled your eyes but followed her inside all the same, spotting your friends Marisa and Julie quickly, Julie standing up in her bar stool, her feet propped on the base of the chair so she stood above everyone else in the bar. 

“You said you were going to dress up!” Marisa said as you went in to hug her and give her a peck on the cheek. “What the fuck?” 

“I’m dressed up!” You said, defensive. 

“No you’re not,” Julie said, gesturing at you with her beer bottle. “That is not dressed up.” 

“Excuse you,” you said. “I’ll have you know that this -” you gestured to your button down shirt “was ironed today. And these jeans are clean AND my boots have never seen the inside of a barn. I’m dressed up.” 

“You have dresses,” Marisa said, her eyes narrowed. “I know you have dresses. I’ve seen you wear dresses.” 

“That’s because I was trying to fuck you,” you said, taking your seat across from her. “I only wear dresses when I’m trying to seduce someone and ain’t no one here I’m trying to jump into bed with so ain’t much point in wearing a dress now, is there?” 

“You could seduce me,” Julie said, waggling her eyebrows at you. 

“I am not going to try to get my ex-girlfriend’s girlfriend into bed,” you said, reaching out and taking Marisa’s beer from in front of her and taking a sip while ignoring her righteous indignation. You winked at her. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

“Oh I doubt you’d ever disappoint,” Julie said. 

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes, putting Marisa’s beer back. “Alright, I need my own drink.” 

You slipped down from the barstool before anyone had a chance to fight you on it, making your way over to the bar. You ordered a beer for yourself and a rum and Diet Coke for your sister-in-law, leaning against the bar as you watched the stage hands adjust for the next performer, waiting for your drinks. 

As much as you hated to admit it, Amanda was right. You did need to get out more. 

You knew she thought you should be dating more and, if you were in her position, you’d probably agree. It had been coming on three years since your husband had died and your romantic life was pretty damn flat. You’d been out on a handful of dates and had two relationships but none of them had stuck. Marisa had been the closest, the two of you dating for a few months before, eventually, you just decided that you didn’t want to settle down again. You just weren’t ready. 

She’d understood, and you’d stayed friends. You were grateful for that, at least. A little less grateful for the fact that she seemed to be on a mission to set you up with every single woman she knew, a mission that had only picked up when she got together with Julie. It was like she thought that she couldn’t really be happy in a relationship until you were, too. But the friendship was good. She hadn’t known you before Mark had died, she wasn’t stuck in this strange place the way everyone else you knew seemed to be, walking on eggshells around the too-young widow. You needed someone who treated you like you were normal, ex-girlfriend or not. 

The bartender gave you your drinks just as the emcee took to the stage to announce the next act. 

“Next artist has been playin’ here off and on for as long as some of you kids have been alive,” he said as you made your way back to your seat. “He left us for a bit there but came back a few months ago and we couldn’t be happier to have him and his guitar on stage with us again. Please welcome Joel Miller!” 

Your jaw dropped as you watched Joel - dedicated father to the girl who had quickly become your favorite riding student and the only man since your husband who had the ability to make your heart stutter in your chest - take the stage, guitar in hand. 

“Thanks for makin’ me feel like an old man with that intro there, Matthew,” Joel said as he perched on the stool, setting the guitar in his lap before adjusting the mic. 

“What?” Amanda whispered, frowning at the look on your face as you set her drink in front of her. 

“I know him,” you whispered back, sitting beside her. “His daughter is one of my students.” 

“Think we’ll start with somethin’ most folks will know,” he said, adjusting the hold on his guitar. “Hope you enjoy it.” 

It only took you a moment to recognize the opening chords of I’m on Fire, one of your favorite Springsteen songs. But as you listened, you thought you might prefer Joel’s version, something soft and pensive and almost reflective about it, like someone looking back fondly on youthful indiscretion. You smiled softly at that, letting his music move through you, the sense that you understood him better settling in you as you took another sip of beer. Something else - something hot and wanting - settled inside you, too. 

It was an almost disconcerting sensation. When your husband died, you’d considered never dating again. You hadn’t wanted deep attachment with anybody else, you didn’t have a drive to be with anyone in that way. But eventually that shifted. You missed companionship, you missed loving someone and wanting someone, you missed having a person. So you tried but nothing seemed to stick. There was just something that felt wrong about wanting to replace Mark even though, consciously, you knew that’s not what you were doing. 

But then you met Joel. You weren’t sure why - maybe it was the context of your relationship, maybe it was the fact that he’d lost his spouse, too - but you found yourself wanting to share things with him in a way you hadn’t anyone else since your husband had died. Your friendship of sorts had grown out of that, often asking Joel and Ellie to stay for dinner after riding lessons and even going with them to a rodeo once. You liked sharing things with Joel. You weren’t sure if that scared you. 

When the song ended, everyone clapped and just as he started leaning into the mic to talk again, you cupped your hands around your mouth and hollered toward the stage. 

“Good one, Miller!” 

He frowned a little, squinting against the light and scanning the crowd until he saw you. You raised your beer to him and he smiled. 

“One of my friends is here, apparently to give me a hard time,” he said. “Know she loves her some Fleetwood Mac, so this one is for her.” 

You recognized Landslide from the first chord and you smiled, not able to help yourself, as he played. 

“He’s really good,” Amanda said. 

“He is,” you nodded, not able to take your eyes off him. 

“You like him,” she said, smile so evident in her voice that you looked over at her, just for a moment, before you scoffed and looked back at Joel. 

“We’re friends,” you said, watching him play. “Course I like him.” 

“I haven’t seen you look at a man like that since Mark,” she said. “You like him like him.”

“What are we, five?” You waved her off. “Don’t be a dumbass.”

“Only one of us here being a dumbass and it ain’t me,” she said, sounding far too self satisfied for your liking. 

You ignored her, just enjoying Joel’s set for another few songs before he finished and you clapped and whooped for him as he left the stage. 

Joel put his guitar away and came to find you, smiling almost sheepishly as he did. 

“You were amazing!” You said as he came over and stood alongside your spot at the table. “I didn’t know you played!” 

“Thank you,” he said, laughing a little. “And yeah, I love it. Thought I was gonna be a singer for a bit when I was young but that went out the window real quick. Happy I get to do this though. Somethin’ about just making something that way, you know?” 

“She does,” Amanda said before you got a chance to respond. “She plays, too.” 

“And she’s really fucking good,” Marisa cut in. “Like so fucking good.” 

“You play?” Julie swatted your arm from across the table. “Why didn’t I know that?” 

“She only plays for family,” Amanda teased. 

“Or if she’s trying to get you into bed,” Marisa added and you rolled your eyes. “What! It’s true.” 

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you said. “Joel, this is my sister-in-law Amanda and my friends Marisa and Julie. You can ignore all of ‘em, they don’t know a damn thing.”

He laughed. 

“Good to meet you ladies,” he said as the emcee took the stage to announce the next artist. “Always wondered what this one got up to besides ridin’.” 

“Very little,” Amanda said. “Her kid’s having a cousin sleepover with mine and my husband is holding down the fort specifically so we could get her out of the damn house. We had to drag her out tonight and I’m going to need to put a gun to her head to get her to dance.” 

“Not a gun,” you said, defensive. “Just partner who is worth the trouble dancin’ with, so good luck to ya.” 

“Think I’m worth the trouble?” Joel asked and your head spun to face him so fast it almost shocked you. He seemed shocked, too, looking awkwardly at the ground and palming the back of his neck. “Just… you know. If you wanted to dance, ain’t like I got someone waiting on me. And… I’d like to dance with you.” 

You just looked at him, trying not to smile but you felt the edges of your lips tugging up, anyway. 

“Alright, cowboy,” you said, taking a sip of your beer. “I’ll dance with you.” 

Joel smiled and they announced the next performer - a younger kid, maybe college aged - took the stage and awkwardly introduced himself. 

“If he plays somethin’ worth dancing to, that is,” you added with a wink. 

Joel looked to the stage and gave the kid a wave before looking back to you. 

“Oh, he will,” Joel said. “Anyone from here ever hits it big it’ll be him, you wait.” 

You scoffed, skeptical, but you ended up eating your words, the opening strains of Layla enough to make you shut up and listen. 

“Alright, cowgirl,” Joel said with a smirk as the kid on stage started on the next song, one you recognized as Hallelujah from the opening chord. “Gonna make good on your word or not?” 

“Come on,” Amanda elbowed you playfully. “You did say you were gonna have fun!” 

“Alright!” You said, putting your hand in Joel’s outstretched one and ignoring the thrill that ran through you when your skin made contact with his. His long, thick fingers closed around yours and you hoped he couldn’t feel your heart racing in your palm. “I’m dancin’ I’m dancin’.” 

He led you to the dance floor and pulled you gently against his body, his hands finding your waist as you put your arms around his neck. 

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” he said as he started swaying with you. “Wasn’t trying to bully you into it.” 

“You didn’t,” you assured him, smiling a little. “Just haven’t danced in a while is all. Probably could have used a little bullying, to be honest.” 

He nodded a little and you tried to ignore how his body felt against yours. It had been a long time since you’d been this close to a man. Since Mark’s death, you’d exclusively dated women. You weren’t trying to, necessarily, but you’d always been a little more comfortable with women. It was odd now, having someone big and broad against you, the makeup of his body so unlike your own. 

“So, you play?” He asked after a moment of not quite awkward silence passed between you. 

“Yeah,” you smiled a little. “I do. My brother taught me - not the one you’ve met, I got another one - and it’s my favorite thing to do besides ride. Though it might be a tie, actually.” 

“Well you know what I like to play now,” he said. “Since you were stuck listening to it…” 

“You were good!” You cut him off. “And I don’t bullshit about that, you were. Really.” 

“Still,” he said. “Tell me, what do you like to play?” 

“I mean, bit of everything,” you shrugged. “But I love Heart, the Runaways, Veruca Salt… I love a good guitar part but I love it more if a woman played it.” 

“Should tell Ellie about that sometime,” he said, smiling fondly. “Been teaching’ her to play. She’d get a kick out of hearing about woman rockers from a woman.” 

“Happy to spread the good word,” you smiled back. 

You just danced with him then, in not quite awkward silence, your faces close together. Close enough that you could smell him, the pine scent of fresh cut lumber and understated spice of cologne and something that you couldn’t place but just felt good. Safe and warm and comfortable. 

You found yourself looking in his eyes more than you’d really intended to, the sense that - in spite of the room full of people around you - it was just you and him there, swaying with the music. 

“Always liked this song,” you said eventually, looking up at Joel. 

“Hm?” 

“Hallelujah,” you said. “Always liked it.” 

“Me too,” Joel said, his eyes searching yours. “It’s… it’s beautiful. Always thought so.” 

The song ended and you just stood there in his arms, watching him as his hands slipped up your body to trace over your arms and you wanted to kiss him then, more than you’d wanted to kiss someone since Mark.

“Why don’t we pick things up a little?” The kid on stage said, pulling you out of your own head before he started playing again, the crowd whooping and hollering. You laughed and pulled your eyes from Joel’s before he took your hand - as if by habit - and led you back to the table. 

“Was that so bad?” Amanda teased as you got back to the table. 

“Oh she really hated that,” Marisa winked at you. “I could tell.” 

“I’m gonna ask both of y’all to fuck off,” you said sternly, smiling a little as you did. 

“And if we don’t?” Marisa taunted. 

“I’ll make you fuck off,” you said. 

“Oh I bet you will,” she smirked. 

“How about I get you another beer?” Joel said, before Julie had the chance to gang up on you, too. 

The kid on stage played another song - well enough that you were starting to think you needed to come to more shit like this - before taking his bow and the emcee came up to introduce the next artist just as Joel returned with your drinks.

“Our next performer is new to Austin but boy are we excited she’s here,” he said. “Give a warm welcome to Rachel Simmons!” 

Joel turned to face the stage and clap as a young woman with close cropped hair dressed a lot like you were went for the mic, her guitar in hand and a guy just behind you that you hadn’t really noticed before groaned. 

“Always gettin’ a bunch of these types around here,” he said, loud enough that everyone around you turned to look at him. “Like we need any more of that.”

“Any more of what, exactly?” Marisa asked, brows raised. 

“You know what I mean,” he said, looking between Marisa, Julie and you. 

“Baby,” Julie took Marisa’s arm. “Let’s not…”

“Afraid I don’t know what you mean,” you said, slipping down from your barstool and facing him. “Why don’t you explain it, friend?” 

“We don’t need more of that kind around here,” he said, not backing down. 

You felt it then, in the little half second of clarity you got before some form of righteous rage took over and you acted on instinct. Your blood was hot, body tensed like a coiled spring. 

“What. Kind.” 

“Probably best to step away,” Joel was at your back but - when you looked toward him, ready to fight him, too - he was speaking to the man, not to you. “Before we have a problem.” 

“See?” The man looked toward his friend. “Like I said, we don’t need any more loud mouthed dykes.” 

You threw the punch before you even paused to consider, hard enough and fast enough that the man ended up stumbling back, clutching at his face as a bubble of space formed around him, no one else wanting to get caught up in his trouble. 

“Sorry, what was that?” You stalked up to him, shoving him as he tried to right himself. He straightened but you swung again, catching him on the other cheek this time. “Don’t think I heard you right you inbred, white trash, motherfucking…”

He moved to swing back but Joel stepped between you, the man’s fist making contact with Joel’s chest and not moving him an inch. Joel shoved him back.

“Now I know you didn’t just try and punch a woman,” Joel prowled closer and you just stayed behind him, panting for breath. 

“She punched me first!” The man yelled, leaning around Joel to gesture angrily at you.

“And I’ll punch you again!” You yelled back, about to launch yourself at him but Joel put his arm out, stopping you. “Make this whole bar watch you get your sorry ass whooped by a loud mouthed…” 

“You can leave,” Joel said, cutting you off and still holding you back. “Our I will make you leave. Know the owners here don’t take too kindly to folks like you, ain’t gonna be me or her getting in trouble.” 

“C’mon man,” the asshole’s friend said, putting a palm to his chest. “Ain’t worth it.” 

He looked like he considered it for a moment and you almost wished he wouldn’t listen, that he’d throw another punch and you could beat the shit out of him. But he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and stepped back. 

“Don’t wanna drink at a fuckin’…” 

“Watch your words,” you said, voice dark, hand already curling into a fist. “Hate for you to get knocked out between here and the door.” 

“Don’t wanna drink here anyway,” he spat ‘here’ like it was the slur he meant and left, looking back over his shoulder at you. 

“Better fuckin’ go,” you muttered as he left and realized just how quiet the bar had become, how every eye in the place was trained on you. Your hand throbbed. 

“Well, that was somethin’,” the emcee said, the woman behind him clutching her guitar. He looked to her. “You still up for playing for us?” 

“Yeah,” she said, settling in to play. “Think we all could use a little music after that…” 

She started playing closer to fine and you flexed your fingers, trying to see if you’d broken anything. 

“Hey,” Marisa said, suddenly beside you, taking your face in her hands, her eyes searching your face. “You OK, baby?” 

“I’m fine,” you said, smiling a little, and she pulled you into a hug, holding you tight. 

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “I should have just kept my mouth shut and…” 

“And if you didn’t say anything, I would have,” you said, giving her a little squeeze before stepping back from her. “Someone needed to say something and lord knows I can’t shut the fuck up. You OK?” 

“Yeah,” she sniffed and nodded before she sighed. “I dunno, maybe we should just get out of here…” 

“No, fuck that,” Julie said, coming up and slipping an arm around Marisa’s waist and kissing her shoulder. “We are going to stay and we’re going to listen to music and we are not going to let that backwards bigot ruin date night. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Marisa smiled a little. 

“Wanna dance it out, baby?” Julie asked. 

Marisa laughed wetly. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s dance it out.” 

You watched them go to the dance floor, smiling a little, before looking down at your hand, flexing your fingers again and wincing as you did. As the adrenaline started to fade, your knuckles hurt more. You must have caught him right on his chin with one of the blows, your skin split and bleeding. 

“Ow,” you said to yourself, not really out of pain but because it seemed like you should. 

“Should probably get that cleaned up,” Joel said, making you jump a little. You’d almost forgotten he was there. 

“Yeah,” you said, looking around and realizing that Marisa and Julie had dragged Amanda onto the dance floor, too. You deflated a little. “Shit, I came with Amanda, I don’t want to make her go, too…” 

“My house ain’t far,” Joel said and you looked at him, brows raised. “I mean, just… You know, I got first aid shit there, can get you patched up pretty easy. Bandaged up my kid brother’s knuckles enough times, I’m pretty much an expert.” 

“You wouldn’t mind?” You asked. 

“Course not,” he said. “Seems like the least you can do given how kind you’ve been to Ellie and me. And if anyone deserved a punch to the face it was that asshole, don’t seem right to let the person who did the punching suffer.” 

“Alright cowboy,” you smiled a little. “Let’s go.” 

He grabbed his guitar and put his hand in the middle of your back, guiding you out to his truck in the parking lot. 

“Here,” he said, and before you had a chance to do it yourself, opened the passenger side door. 

“Well ain’t you a gentleman?” You said, hopping up in the seat. 

“What can I say,” he smiled a little. “My mama raised me right.”

Joel’s truck was almost surprisingly clean. Not that he seemed like a particularly messy guy but you’d expected him to have stray receipts or a few empty water bottles lying around. Instead, the cab was almost immaculate, the truck more than a decade old but well cared for, with a dashboard that shined and clean carpets. But there were little hints of his life there, too. There was a sticky note over the radio that said “Portfolio Monday!!!” and a purple butterfly dangling from his rearview mirror. You smiled at that, reaching out and delicately tracing the outside edge of it as Joel got in the driver’s seat. 

“Didn’t take you for a butterfly guy,” you said, looking at him as he started driving. 

“Oh, yeah,” he smiled a little - a crooked one that you’d call cocky if you didn’t know any better - and chuckled. “My oldest, Sarah, made me that when she was a kid. Loved butterflies. Still does, helped her put in a little butterfly garden at her place last spring. She keeps telling me I should get rid of that but you know how it is when it’s somethin’ your kid made you. Don’t matter if it was 25 years ago, you keep it.”

You smiled a little, thinking of the misshapen vase that Savvy had made you at school for Mother’s Day when she was in second grade and how she groaned anytime you took it out of the cabinet. 

“Well, if you’re not tormenting your kids, what’s the point?” You said. 

The two of you were silent for a moment and you let yourself look at him - really look at him. He was strikingly beautiful person, with his strong jaw and aquiline nose and thick hair. There was something about looking at him that just made you feel good, like you did when you looked at an artistic masterpiece or played your favorite piece of music. 

“Thanks for stepping in back there,” you said after you texted Amanda to tell her that you’d find your own way home and a few minutes had passed. “I’m… Well, my parents always just said I was a hot head but I can get myself in trouble when I don’t reel it in so… Thank you.” 

“Course. Like I said, he deserved it,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Sorry if it’s not my place and if I’m overstepping by askin’ but… Seemed like you took what that asshole said real personal.” 

“I mean,” you shrugged. “Marisa’s my ex-girlfriend, her and Julie are my friends. Not gonna just let someone say that kind of shit about them or me. So yeah, I took it personal.” 

Joel just blinked for a second, seemingly frozen otherwise and you laughed. 

“What?” You asked. 

“Nothin’,” he said quickly. “Just… you know… you were married to a man so I thought… I mean I know not everyone… uh… comes out before they settle down but…” 

You laughed again, saving him from himself. 

“I’m bi, Joel,” you said. He looked quickly over at you and then back to the road. “That means I like men and women and everything in between or outside. Much more interested in the person than what’s in their pants.” 

Joel nodded slowly, like he was processing for a moment. 

“Probably should have thought of that,” he said. “I’m not the most… familiar with all of that. I’ve been learnin’ more ever since Ellie told me how she feels. Never had a problem with any of it, ‘course, everyone should get to love and live how they want but only knew one couple who wasn’t straight before - actually, you’d probably like Bill, he’s a hot head, too - so I just didn’t pay much attention and…” 

“Joel,” you cut him off. “I’m not offended that you thought I was straight or that you didn’t know what to do with the fact that I’m not. It’s OK.” 

He pulled into his driveway and he tried to get to your side of the truck before you opened the door yourself, frowning a little when he found you already standing. 

“Now how am I supposed to keep being a proper gentleman if you don’t let me?” He asked, small smile on his face. You just rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling a little in return. “C’mon, let’s get you fixed up.” 

Joel’s home felt like him, too. You moved slowly once inside, trailing along behind him as he put his keys and wallet on the small table by the door and took his guitar out of the case and set it on the stand in the living room, turning on lights as he went. It was tidy and warm, comfortably lived in and well loved and thoughtful, with wood-paneled walls and plush leather couches and paintings that were definitely more than hotel room style bullshit on the walls. 

“Here,” he said, jerking his head toward a doorway. “Kitchen’s this way. Get that rinsed and iced before anything else.” 

“Thanks,” you said, following him. The kitchen was cozy and clean, with a few pans on the drying rack and the quiet hum of the dishwasher finishing its dry cycle. There was a breakfast nook, with a gallery of family pictures on the wall behind it that you resisted the urge to go look at, instead following Joel to the sink. 

“Here,” he said, running the water and testing the temperature. “Gimme that hand of yours.” 

You held it out and he took it gently in his much larger one. He brushed his thumb below the split skin, looking you over. 

“Don’t think you broke anything,” he said, looking up from your hand to your face. “Just gonna be sore.” 

“I’ve had worse,” you smiled a little. “I do get thrown off horses for a living.” 

He chuckled a little. 

“Suppose you do.” 

He cleaned up your hand, treating you so delicately it was almost shocking. He was so large and strong - cords of muscle obvious where his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows - that you knew he had to make a conscious choice to be gentle. Your heart beat a little faster with that knowledge - with the thought that he was choosing to be gentle with you. 

Joel made you an ice pack next, wrapping the Ziploc in a kitchen towel to keep the cold from being too harsh on your skin, before going to get the bandages. 

You took advantage of the time alone to look at the gallery wall, taking in each photo individually. Joel, when he was decades younger and a little girl who looked so much like Savvy on his shoulders it almost knocked the wind out of you - Sarah, you assumed. Joel with another man who looked a lot like him - his brother, you figured - and the girl who looked like Savvy on a rafting trip. Joel and a woman in a knee-length white dress holding a bouquet of flowers, his arm around her waist, a proud smile on his face. Tess, you guessed, but she looked nothing like Sarah and you suddenly felt this odd kinship with a woman you’d never met before. Joel was such a dedicated father and - from what he said of Tess and Ellie - you knew she must have been like a mother to Sarah, too, all because she chose to love someone who already had another person they loved more than anything else in the entire world. She, too, chose to step into a family that already existed and love them and look after them. You smiled, a little sadly, at her image, mourning for someone you didn’t know. 

“That’s Tess,” Joel said from behind you and you looked over your shoulder to find him there, his arms crossed over his chest, smiling a little. 

“She was beautiful,” you smiled a little in return before looking back at the wall. 

“She was,” Joel said, coming to stand alongside you. “She’d have liked you.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“Yeah,” he said. “She was tough as fuckin’ nails, didn’t take shit from anybody. She had some corporate job that I wasn’t smart enough to understand but she had those assholes under control. Always glad I wasn’t on the wrong side of her. Well, usually wasn’t, anyway.” 

You laughed a little at that and Joel smiled wider.

“Like I said. She’d like you.” 

“That’s Sarah?” You nodded at a picture of her with a soccer trophy, smiling hugely with one of her front teeth missing. 

“That’s her,” he smiled. “My pride and joy, that kid. Her and Ellie are the best things I ever did.” 

“Does she live around here?” You asked. 

“Dallas,” he said. “Her husband got a job up that way but we get to see her about once a month or so. She’s married, got a little one of her own now - he’s about to turn two, named him Joel for some reason - and she’s the band instructor at a high school.” 

“Took after her daddy,” you smiled at him. 

He chuckled. 

“Suppose she did.” 

You followed Joel back to the sink and he cleaned the cut with alcohol, making you wince, before carefully bandaging you up. You flexed your fingers carefully, making sure the bandage was secure. 

“Thanks,” you smiled. “Think you’ve saved me from dying of infection from whatever was growing in that fucker’s beard.” 

“Probably somethin’ real nasty,” Joel smiled a little back. “Couldn’t afford to risk it.” 

You snorted, trying to ignore how warm your skin seemed because he was close to you, the way your heart fluttered. 

“We could head back to the bar,” he said. “Or… if it ain’t too weird… I got beer and…” 

“Not weird,” you cut him off. “I like beer.” 

He pulled two bottles of Shiner out of the fridge and opened them, passing you one, and you asked to see more of the house. He showed you around, putting Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers on the record player and stopping at the music room. He showed you his guitars and - when he insisted - you demonstrated some of your skills before you told him about how Mark had gotten you a dulcimer for the last birthday the two of you had shared and how you were having fun figuring out what all you could do with that instrument. There were more pictures - including one big one from a Christmas where the whole family was together and everyone looked so happy it made your heart ache. Eventually, the two of you made your way back to the living room and you stopped at a painting, one that had struck you even from afar when you first came in the house: a moose and a deer with mountains in the background. 

“Ellie painted that,” Joel said, sounding proud. 

“Really?” You said, looking over your shoulder at him before looking back at the painting. “It’s beautiful, she’s incredibly talented.” 

“She really is,” Joel agreed. 

“Have to see if she can make me somethin’ like this,” you said, leaning in even closer to it, eyes tracing over the gentle arc of the doe’s neck. “I really love the deer…” 

Joel chuckled but tried to hide it and you frowned, turning to face him. 

“What?” You asked. 

“Nothin’,” he coughed, clearing his throat. “Don’t… don’t worry about it.” 

“Clearly something,” you said. “C’mon, tell me.” 

“Well…” he looked to consider it for a moment before shaking his head and sighing a little. “You gotta promise to not hold it against me.” 

“OK now you really gotta tell me,” you smirked, setting your bottle of beer on a nearby side table and putting your hands in the back pockets of your jeans. “Spill, Miller.” 

“You may not know this about yourself,” he said, wincing a little as he said it. “But… when you get real worked up about something - excited or mad or something - your eyes get real big. You were pissed as hell when I first met you and your eyes were about the size of dinner plates and you reminded me of a deer… Bambi, to be exact.” 

“Bambi?” You laughed, raising your eyebrows. “I reminded you of Bambi. A baby deer.” 

“Only with the eyes!” He said, defensive but laughing a little, too. “But, you know… Bambi’s a lot stronger than people give him credit for. Sarah’s little boy likes that movie and that little deer survives a whole hell of a lot, fights off another deer and a bunch of hunters. Bambi’s tough. More people should be like Bambi.” 

“Bambi,” you shook your head a little, smiling. “I like it.” 

“Good,” Joel said, stepping a little closer to you. “That’s… that’s good.” 

“Yeah,” you said, and you stepped closer to him, too. Close enough that your chest brushed his when you breathed. Your eyes searched his, almost hoping to see some reluctance there but found none. “I think so, too.” 

And before you could think better of it, you kissed him. 

***

You were kissing him. 

Joel’s heart raced. 

You were kissing him. 

It was like every other thought he’d ever head just flitted right out of his mind because you were kissing him. 

He’d thought about this moment far more than he was proud of. 

Joel was struck by you the first time he saw you and it had only gotten more intense since. Seeing you befriend Ellie and help her become more and more confident on a horse, watching how you loved and cared for your animals, getting to know your biting humor and taste in music and fiery passion for so much. He had always been drawn to strong women and there you were, running your own ranch, breaking horses and beating men at their own damn game. And then you were so fucking beautiful it seemed like he could pass hours just looking at you and never get bored, just be happy for the privilege. How the hell was he not supposed to fall for you? What hope did he have? 

Until tonight, he’d resigned himself to be silent about it. His feelings were his problem, not yours. Ellie adored you and your daughter, you were the exact kind of role model he wanted for his child and he liked you - not just in that he was attracted to you but as a friend, too. Joel didn’t have many friends. He wasn’t about to put all that at risk just because he had feelings for someone for the first time since Tess died.

Then you danced with him. You danced with him and you looked in his eyes and you let him take you home and bandage your damaged knuckles and you tasted a little like mint below the hops from the beer on your tongue and he had to do something more, he had to. 

Your arms were around his neck and your body arched into his, all soft and pliant against him and he moaned into your mouth as his hands found your waist. 

You pulled away the tiniest bit then, your eyes searching his. 

“This OK?” You asked, a little breathless.

“Yeah,” Joel said, breathless, too. “Yeah, it’s… fuck, this is way more than OK.” 

You smiled at that, your eyes wide but soft. 

“Where’s Ellie?” You asked. “She gonna be home anytime soon?” 

“School trip,” Joel said. “Won’t be back until Sunday.” 

“Good,” you smiled, almost cocky, at him. “Because I still haven’t seen your bedroom, Miller.” 

“Well,” Joel said, his voice low. “Can’t have that, can we?” 

He kissed you again before leading you up the stairs to his room. 

Joel tugged at your shirt when the two of you got there and you let him untuck it from your jeans, his fingers working clumsily at the buttons as yours pulled at his belt buckle. The two of you undressed each other like teenagers would, quick and fumbling, casting clothes aside and leaving them strewn across his floor and fuck, you were beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. 

Once you were both naked, you kissed him and turned him so the backs of his legs found the end of the bed and you nudged him down onto it. 

“I…” he panted, looking up at you from his spot on the mattress. “Shit, I should’ve said somethin’ sooner but I… I don’t exactly got a condom…” 

“It’s OK,” you said, eyes wide and hungry. “Don’t need to worry about knocking me up.” 

You straddled him, the heat of your bare, slick pussy tantalizingly close to his cock. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, looking down to see where your bodies were aligned. He breathed heavy for a moment, trying to keep from losing his head but he was failing. He looked back to you. “You sure?” 

You just nodded, grinding yourself against his length, making him moan, your eyes locked on his face. 

“Goddamn,” he said, looking back down and stroking himself before you rose up on your knees, aligning your warm, soft heat with his cock. He looked up at you then, your hands on his shoulders as you lowered yourself onto him. He groaned as you took him, your tight channel stretching over him. He held your waist, watching you as he filled you totally, until every inch of him buried inside of you. “Fuck, you feel good, so fucking good.” 

You just moaned in response, looking down between your bodies to where you were joined, panting for breath. After a moment, you pushed him down onto his back and planted your hands on his chest. You looked him up and down, eyes wide and, for half a moment, he thought you looked uncertain. But, before he had the chance to ask, you started moving over him and he was lost in you. 

The rise and fall of your hips were mesmerizing and he was nearly overwhelmed by just watching the motions of your body. The way you ground yourself down against him when he was fully inside you, the way you curved and arched as you rode him, the flex of your muscles and the stretch of your skin and the bounce of your breasts, he couldn’t seem to even wrap his mind around the idea that there was anything that existed outside of you and him together. 

It didn’t take long that just watching wasn’t enough, he needed to be able to touch and feel you. He sat up and you let him, your arms going around his neck as his hands ranged over the soft, smooth skin of your back, one rooting at the base of your spine to hold you in place as he fucked up into you and your hips stuttered as you groaned, his mouth against your neck. 

“Fuck, Joel,” he could feel the movement of your throat against his lips when you spoke, the flutter of your pulse below your skin. “I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, I…” 

“Do it,” he damn near growled it, digging his fingers into your skin as he pressed himself deeper, harder. “Make yourself come on my cock, that’s it, fuck!” 

Your pussy clenched tight on him for a moment before throbbing around his length and he looked up at you - your eyes so wide, your pupils blown - before he kissed you, hard and needy, your legs locked tight around him. 

He took advantage of you being lost in orgasm to adjust you, moving you so you were on your back on the bed and he was between your thighs and fucking down into you as your orgasm eased. Joel looked down over you, memorizing your naked body - the shape of your breasts and curve of your hips and the scars he was sure came from years of ranching - before you rolled your hips up against him, your hand finding the curls at the nape of his neck and he groaned. 

“Think you might be tryin’ to kill me, woman,” he said and you smirked. 

“Know what they say,” you said. “Save a horse, ride a cowgirl. You gonna ride me or not?” 

“Depends,” he said, heart pounding in his chest. “Think you can gimme another one?” 

He ground himself against you deep inside, his body working your clit as he did and you groaned, eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

“Atta girl,” he smirked a little. “Gonna take that as a yes.” 

Before you had a chance to respond, he started fucking into you again, hard and fast and finding the place in you that made your thighs grip him tighter and your nails dig into his skin. He kissed and sucked his way over your chest, cupping the soft fullness of your breasts and pulling your nipples into his mouth as the skin pebbled below his tongue. You met him stroke for stroke as he moved, your hands pulling him close and tight until he couldn’t have his mouth on your chest anymore and instead he kissed over your jaw to the soft skin below your earlobe, down to your throat. Your channel tightened around him, your breaths coming in fast and needy pants and he was struggling to hold off his own orgasm as yours drew closer and closer to the surface. You were overwhelming. Just being inside someone again would be overwhelming but the fact that it was you - the first person he’d had any kind of feelings for in what felt like a small eternity - just made it worse. 

“Fuck, you gettin’ close there baby?” He panted in your ear, voice barely even a whisper. You let out a strangled moan, your hips stuttering against him. His hand ran down your body to grab your ass, adjusting the angle of you and you damn near sobbed, back arching below him. “S’right, C’mon. Come for me, just let go and come.” 

Your fingers wound in his hair and you pulled him from where he’d buried himself in your neck and looked in his eyes for a moment before you kissed him, pulling his mouth to yours harshly as you thrust your hips up against him one last time, your channel so impossibly tight around him it almost hurt before you throbbed around him, your body milking his and he couldn’t hold back anymore as he came deep inside you. He came so hard it made his head hurt, like something reached into the very center of him to take everything he had and empty it into you, rope after rope of his spend pumping into you. 

You went limp below him half a moment before he collapsed, breathless, on top of you. His mind was fuzzy and it took him a second to come back into himself enough to be aware of his weight on you. 

“Sorry,” he managed, lifting himself from you shakily before slowly, gently slipping out of you. “Not tryin’ to crush you.” 

“S’OK,” you said, laughing a little as you panted. Joel fell onto the bed beside you and looked over at you as you stared up at his ceiling. “Fuck, feels like I need a cigarette after that and I ain’t smoked since I started living with Savvy.” 

“Take that as a compliment,” Joel smiled a little and you turned your head to look at him. You smiled back. 

“Good,” you said. “You should.” 

Joel tried to remember how this was supposed to work now - hell, what the fuck was the etiquette for unexpected sex in this damn decade? - but he got up and got you a glass of water and something to clean up with and there was something centering about you drifting off to sleep beside him even though he was pretty sure you hadn’t intended to. He liked having you there, liked that you felt comfortable enough with him to pass out naked in his bed. There was something good and right about having you close like this and he drifted off watching you breathe and trying to figure out how to talk to you about this in the morning, something warm blooming in his chest that he hadn’t felt in so long. 

Which was why it felt like shit to find you gone and his bed cold and empty when he woke.