“Hardly.”
Curtis had no intention of being led further on that one. “Anyway, you’re the
cowboy. You’re the walking wet dream.” Did Riley really have no idea of the
attention he drew? Lee had barely taken his eyes off him and had already
scooped ice cream onto the floor by mistake because of his distraction. A table
full of young girls had stopped chattering into their phones and were openly
staring at him, all gooey-eyed. At least five people who’d passed the window
had done an almost comical doubletake at the tall, hat-clad hunk. Curtis was
amazed Riley hadn’t made more money busking just for his image. “I know gay
guys who’d be peeing themselves to get their hands on a cowboy,” he said. “If
he’s a real one.”
Riley
raised his eyebrows. Curtis got a much better view of his face now the hat was
off, and the way his hair was brushed carelessly across his forehead. “You
don’t think I’m real?”
“I