This tale is especially dedicated to hisladyswan, my summer CS buddy. :) Hope you enjoy this!
Own nothing related to Once Upon a Time, but I love it all!
It is his smile she first notices. She can't help but stare as he walks past, the fit of his jeans just right, the swagger in his step well done. He's the best looking guy she's seen since moving here, a cowboy she can't tear her eyes from, a man she just might enjoy getting to know.
Wait—where did that thought come from?
She's then pushed from behind as she tries to push those thoughts from her head, stumbling forward awkwardly much to her chagrin.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," a voice mumbles as her Diet Coke splashes haphazardly across her shirt. "Tight quarters here."
"Yeah," she returns. Damn. It's going to stain. Not much of a start for what's supposed to be a relaxing girl's night out.
"It's alright," she responds, searching for a food booth with napkins or paper towels, anything to dry the front of her blouse. Maybe this evening with Ruby wasn't such a good idea after all.
"Would this help?"
Blue eyes gaze back at her, his voice smooth as worn leather, his dark scruff simply begging to be stroked. It's him—the guy in the jeans. And he's holding out her his handkerchief in her direction.
Who carries handkerchiefs anymore?
"Thanks," she mutters, taking his offering and shaking her head, needing some relief from this cowboy-induced stupor. "I should have known better than to wear white."
A smile that should be illegal catches her off guard.
"White looks good on you," he hums. "But I suspect anything would."
She ceases wiping her shirt to catch his expression, the urge to flirt hitting her hard out of nowhere.
"Those jeans seem to like you," she offers, his smile targeting places she can't entertain in public, places she has ignored for longer than she can remember.
He then leans forward, almost brushing her ear.
"Thanks," he hums. "My mom picked them out."
Christ. He even likes his mother. Is this guy for real?
"You still let your mom buy your clothes?" she tosses back, raising her brows as he rubs the side of his ear. "Aren't you a little big for that?"
"Yeah," he grins. "I am too big." She flushes and catches her breath. "But you know how mothers are about their sons."
"Yeah," she whispers, his words hitting too close to home. "I do."
"Meet me here after the rodeo?"
His invitation hits her with delayed force.
"Wait. What?"
"Here," he echoes, pointing to where his feet are standing. And just like that, he's gone.
Before she can answer, before she can think too hard, before she can craft an excuse. Damn it. She watches him saunter away, wondering what the hell she has just gotten herself into, wondering what made him notice her in the first place.
This is probably a really bad idea.
She winds her way back to the bleachers, taking her seat and wondering where Ruby has gotten to, thankful for cloud cover to cool her heated skin. Where is he sitting, she wonders, and she scans the bleachers, having no luck locating him.
He probably ditched her already. Typical.
Or maybe he's here with someone else. Damn—if he thinks she's the kind of girl who'll move in on another woman's territory, he's in for a huge disappointment. One night stands are not her thing, even if the guy resembles a pirate dressed in chaps and a Stetson, even if she can imagine the taste of his kiss from one brief meeting, even if she wants to know his name when she understands such intimacies are far too dangerous.
She sips her drink, clapping for the barrel race winner as the saddle bronc competition begins. She hates rodeos. Why the hell did she let Ruby talk her into this?
Then she nearly loses her nachos.
It's him, hat and all, sitting atop a wild bronco, riding the hell out of that horse.
He's a competitor. Here. A star of the rodeo. The realization makes her swallow uncomfortably, and she watches him in fascination, admiring the grace and strength he exhibits as he rides the bucking beast for an impossible amount of time. She jumps from her seat when he is finally thrown, watching him roll away from the animal and stand with a fluid motion she can't help but notice.
What in God's name has she gotten herself into?
"He's good, isn't he?'
She turns to see Ruby, hot dog in hand, not missing the grin her friend is wearing.
"He's alright," Emma offers with a shrug, still following him with her eyes, unwilling to look away.
Damn. He's more than alright.
"Alright, huh?" Ruby muses, making Emma wonder just how she's going to tactfully ditch her friend by the end of the show. "I'd like to see what you consider yummy if he's only alright."
The crowd erupts at the end of the competition, and her eyes widen as the announcer voices the results. First Place: Killian Jones.
His name is Killian? How the hell did he end up with a name like Killian?
Hometown Celebrity? Swan Song? Final win on the rodeo circuit? Who is this cowboy she's agreed to meet?
"He sure wears his jeans well," Ruby continues, casting her cousin a side glance. "Which means he'd look even better out of them, I suspect."
"Why don't you go and find out?" Emma bites back, trying not to give away anything.
"It's not me he staring at, is it?"
Oh, God—he has spotted her in the stands.
There's a grin and an elaborate bow too pointed to miss, and he blows her a kiss that draws way too much attention from onlookers nearby. Her back is patted, her shoulder squeezed, an older woman instructing her not to let that one get away, another smelling of cigarettes laughing that Emma is in for one hell of a ride tonight.
Her face burns as her body shivers.
"Yeah, he's alright," Ruby grins, nudging her for the fourth time in ten minutes. "You need to track him down after this shindig is over and take that ride, girl. I'll find my own way home."
Emma looks at her cousin, shaking her head decisively.
"You're making too much out of this, as usual."
"You're not making enough of it," Ruby shoots back. "It's time, Emma. It's past time, actually. You deserve to kick your heels up and have a little fun after all you've been through."
Emma sighs, wishing her life were less complicated, feeling strong nudges she has pushed down for years.
"It's not that easy, and you know it. What about Henry?"
Her cousin grabs her arms and turns her to face her directly.
"Henry is with Mom, and he's fine. You know she loves it when he stays over."
Yes, Emma knows this, but what she doesn't say is how lonely she feels when she is away from her son for more than a few hours. He is all she has. He is her life.
"Do this, Emma," Ruby insists. "Do this for yourself. Go meet that cowboy, let him buy you a drink, let him kiss the hell out of you, let him appreciate you for the woman you are. Hell, let him spend the night if you want. Remember, you are more than just a mother."
Emma raises her hands, everything spinning out of her control in a vortex that makes her dizzy.
"It's only a drink, Ruby. I don't even know this guy." Her cousin gazes at her head-on.
"It doesn't have to be just a drink. And how well you get to know him is up to you."