Treat Me (One Night with Sole Regret #8) Read Free

had an alert that Adam was nearby. Shade no longer kept tabs on the guy—well, not as extensively as he had when Adam had been hooked on heroin—but it did make him smile to see his friend so close. He’d almost given up on pestering him about writing songs today, but maybe he could convince Adam to hang out with him and Owen.
    Shade sent Adam several quick text messages— hey and you busy and yo Adam —before switching to camera mode and focusing on Owen. He wasn’t sure what had Owen up to his typical antics, but it probably had something to do with Shade’s undeniably foul mood. Owen couldn’t stand it when his companions weren’t happy.
    “Here, Bessie,” Owen said, pulling a tuft of grass out by the roots and approaching the animals who had all stopped midchew to stare.
    “Owen, don’t harass the cows. You’re liable to get shot by an angry farmer.”
    Owen paid Shade no mind as he crept closer to the cows, shaking his clump of grass at them. “Come get the grass. Yummy grass.”
    “Watch out for that—”
    Owen gingerly stepped sideways to avoid a fresh cow pie. If Owen got shit on his shoes, he’d be riding in the bed of the truck.
    “Don’t you ladies want some yummy grass?”
    When Owen got a bit too close for the cows’ comfort, they began to take uneasy steps backward, tossing their heads and rolling their eyes. A few produced loud, disgruntled moos.
    “Fine,” Owen said. “Be that way.” He tossed the grass aside and reached for the button of his jeans.
    “What the fuck?” Shade asked. As confused as he was as to why Owen felt it necessary to drop his pants and moon the cows, it didn’t stop him from laughing and taking pictures of Owen’s exposed ass.
    “Still think you’re too good for my grass?” Owen called to the cows. “How do you feel about viewing my ass?”
    Shade took his eyes off his phone screen to scrutinize Owen more closely. He could rhyme lines of equal length; was he capable of writing profound lyrics? Ones not about mooning cows?
    When the herd began to bellow in distress—and who could blame them—an enormous, pissed-off bull popped up over the hill. When he recognized that his herd had been insulted, his massive body tensed and he swished his tufted tail threateningly before releasing a deep bellow.
    “Owen, I think you’d better make a run for it,” Shade said.
    Owen glanced over his shoulder. With an “Oh, shit!” he raced toward the gate, struggling to keep his pants up. “Open the gate!” he yelled. “Open the fucking gate!”
    Shade had been laughing so hard, it hadn’t occurred to him that Owen could be in mortal danger. And he’d been too busy snapping pictures to think about helping.
    The bull was rapidly closing in on Owen; there was no way he would beat the animal to the gate. The massive beast’s hoofbeats thundered across the ground and churned up puffs of dust as the bull attempted to trample the human who dared insult his cows. Owen dodged left and scaled the plank fence beside the gate like an expert rodeo clown.
    Shade waved one hand at the bull, trying to gain its attention. “Hey, Ribeye. Over here!”
    Distracted by Shade, the bull hesitated long enough for Owen to flip over the top of the fence and land on his back in the long grass between the road and the pasture. He lay there for a long moment, catching his breath, while on the other side of the fence the bull pawed the ground, snorted, and flicked its tail in annoyance.
    “Are you okay?” Shade asked, chuckling at Owen.
    “I’m alive!”
    “I’m not sure that fence will hold back a pissed-off bull. We’d better get out of here.”
    Owen dragged himself off the ground and stumbled back to the truck. He’d mooned the cows, but he gave the bull the finger.
    “You’re fucking crazy,” Shade said as he slid into the truck beside Owen.
    “Made you laugh.” Owen grinned at Shade. “Did you get any pictures?”
    Shade handed him his cellphone and Owen flipped through