Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
*****
As we walked into the open-air rodeo in Marble Falls a few days later, I felt completely out of fucking place. Cowboy still wasn’t speaking to me much—which was new. He only threw me a few words here and there. It felt fucking weird. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never kept his distance from me. I hated every minute of it, but I knew it was for the best.
Sia was giving me a wide berth too. She stared at me a lot. I wasn’t sure if she remembered me kissing her the other night. Maybe she thought it was just a dream.
“We’re over here,” Sia said and went to register. She was barrel racing today, some amateur competition she did for kicks. Cowboy had been helping her train over the last few weeks. With his arm still pretty bad, he had helped her more in the past few days than help me. I had the perimeter covered. I’d met Smiler and Bull on the main road in my truck, them in theirs, to check in. No news had been brought to our attention by the Diablos’ prez, and Garcia had gone quiet.
I didn’t regard that as a good thing.
So we were here today. I hated fucking rodeos. Too much bad blood had gone down in Louisiana at these fucking things. One time especially . . .
As if he sensed me thinking of that time, Cowboy moved closer to me. He didn’t say anything, but his arm brushed against mine. He never could stay pissed at me for too long. Though this time had set a new fucking record.
Sia walked to a table a few yards away and started filling out some forms. She looked fucking incredible. Her sparkly jeans and pink shirt fit her figure so fucking good I’d almost smiled at her when she came out of her room this morning. She was so fucking stunning, her long curly hair falling down her back, a white Stetson on her head. Instead, I’d ducked out and made sure our journey to the rodeo was safe.
That was my new plan. Avoid her at all costs.
Viking, AK and Flame would be circling the area too. I glanced down at what I was wearing: a plain white shirt and jeans. Of course, Cowboy completely looked the part, dressed in a red plaid shirt, jeans, his cowboy boots and a brown Stetson.
“You look like the old you, dressed like that,” I said and watched a smile pull on his mouth.
“Thought that this morning when I got dressed. Weird to be without a cut, huh? It’s been so long you could almost pretend the years before the club weren’t real.”
I could never think that, but that’s because those years were permanent tattoos on my brain.
“Yeah.” I opened my mouth to say something else, anything else, but Sia came up to us, papers in hand.
“All signed in,” she said. “‘Helen Smith’ is ready to ride.” She laughed and shook her head. “Yee-fucking-haw!” Then she rolled her eyes.
Helen Smith. Her pseudonym. Ky, years ago, had gotten her a false identity after Mexico. The deeds to her ranch were in that name, and she competed under that name too.
Sia rocked on her feet awkwardly when I didn’t laugh. When neither of us did. It wasn’t just me Cowboy had been distant with. Since our little talk a few days ago, he’d pulled away from Sia. He was still all smiles—that’s just who he was—but the flirtation had stopped. I hadn’t seen him take her hand. He barely laughed at her jokes, or engaged in their usual back and forth. I could see it was fucking killing her. I could tell that she missed him by the way she waited for a reaction every time she said something he’d normally find funny.
And I got what he was saying. We were both in this or neither of us were. The prick was so fucking pigheaded. But a better friend there never was.
“So, cher, when you up?” he asked.
“In an hour. I’m one of the last.” She looked toward her horse trailer. “Clara will be warming Sandy up for me.”
Cowboy nodded. “Then let’s get you to the training ring.” I trailed behind Cowboy and Sia, searching the faces at the rodeo. People had started coming in. The bull riders and broncs would pull in the bigger crowds later.
We watched Sia train her horse for a while before her name was up. Cowboy put his hand on my shoulder as we moved to the side of the main ring to wait for Sia to ride. I looked up at my best friend and saw his eyes were bright with excitement.
He used to live for this shit.
The announcer called for “Helen Smith.” Sia held Sandy back at the gate as she waited for the signal to go. As she set off, ducking around the three barrels that were arranged in a clover shape, I fucking held my breath. Cowboy whooped and hollered as she cut up dirt, fucking riding like a bat out of hell. When she began sprinting for the finish line, her legs kicking and reins snapping from side to side, I looked up at the screen to see that her run had put her in first place.