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She sits cautiously and places the tray with the fresh salad and milk on the table. “Hi. Nice to meet you both.” She glances at me and presses her lips together as if she’s forcing herself not to say more.
“If you need help with anything, I’m happy to show you around,” BJ offers before he raises his eyebrows at me.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
With all of us watching, she takes a sip of milk. She doesn’t touch the salad, though, as if she’s uncomfortable eating in front of people. Maybe I should get the key back from her. If I don’t, I’ll be leading a lamb to the wolves.
BJ leans back in his chair, sipping his milkshake, sizing her up, and literally licking his chops. “You have an interesting accent, Della. Where you from?”
“Vancouver, but I was born in Russia. We moved to Canada when I was eight. Then I moved to California yesterday, so here I am. How about you guys? I know Easton is from here. Where are you both from?”
“Chuckie’s from Oregon. I’m a Texan born and raised.” BJ watches as she finally picks up her fork and eats a small bite of lettuce.
“Do you prefer to be called Bailey and Taylor or BJ and Chuck?” she asks.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” BJ says. “Rodeo nickname. Real name. I answer to both.”
She nods and glances at Chuck, waiting for him to answer.
With a straight face he says, “You can call me Big Poppa.”
Her eyebrows angle together as she attempts to read him. I’m pretty sure he’s joking, but honestly, it’s not always easy to tell with Chuck. Either way, I shake my head to let her know that she shouldn’t take him seriously.
“Are you going to eat this pickle?” He asks me after he’s already taken it off my plate and bitten into it. “You know anything about Rodeo, Della?”
Her head swivels side to side. “No. Only that there are bulls and horses. And animal rights activists who claim it’s cruel.” She opens the package of salad dressing and it squirts onto the table. “Shoot,” she mutters under her breath as she wipes it up.
BJ sits forward, defensive. “You think the animals are mistreated?”
“Oh. No. I don’t know.” Her cheeks flush from his confrontational tone. “I don’t know anything about it. I’ve never even been to a rodeo.” She clenches her eyes shut for a second as if she’s trying to reset the conversation, then she glances at Chuck’s wrapped shoulder and BJ’s swollen eye. “It does appear to be cruel to cowboys, though.”
I laugh. Chuck nods to agree and BJ relaxes back in his seat.
I like her. I don’t know why. She’s not the type I normally go for—awkward, eyes that are so innocent it makes me worry about her safety in the world, and really conservative. We probably have nothing in common. Then again, dating woman I have a lot in common with hasn’t really worked out for me so far.
BJ pokes Della’s arm to tease her. “Is shoot the worst cuss word you’ve ever said?”
She frowns and glances at me before she answers him. “I guess. Why?”
“Do you drink?”
“Like alcohol?” She immediately cringes and points at the milk carton as if she can’t believe she didn’t realize that was implied. “Obviously that’s what you meant. Everyone drinks. Liquids. Milk. Water. I’ve had a glass of champagne. Once.”
Chuck and BJ both laugh at her lack of experience. This is bad. She’s a lamb. A cute, defenseless little lamb. They’re going to eat her alive. And we definitely have nothing in common.
“Why’d you choose engineering?” I ask to prevent them from grilling her on anything that might embarrass her.
She pauses mid-bite and retracts the fork. “Um, honestly?”
I nod.
“Because my dad thinks women aren’t smart enough to be engineers. I’m here to prove him wrong.”
“Good on ya,” Chuck says and gives her a fist bump.
“Hell yeah,” BJ adds.
I nod again. Okay. I definitely have a thing for her. She can’t live with us. I don’t have an extra thousand dollars to give the guys.
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