Chapter 10
Two Years & Seven Months Later
Christmas Eve
Bucky spits his tobacco on the ground. The glint in his eye no longer shows doubt.
There's only respect.
This is it.
This is my ride.
Blackvein snorts and grunts.
Adrenaline floods every inch of my body, preparing me for what I've done fifty-six times in the last seven months.
Every time, Blackvein’s bucked me off. Each time, I assess what I did wrong and come back to try again with more determination. Yesterday, I held on for seven and a half seconds. I was so close, I could taste victory.
So today's my day.
"You got this, Wyatt!" Willow cheers.
I glance over, feeling an extra wave of nerves. A cold gust sweeps the ranch, sharp and sudden. Her dark hair lifts with the wind, and she pulls her jacket tighter around herself.
This morning at breakfast, she made a big deal about needing to go to town for more gifts.
She got her license but hasn't gotten a car yet.
So I told the Cartwrights I'd take her to town to finish her Christmas shopping after practice.
It worked like a charm, and now we have some time together, albeit not quite alone yet.
But there was another reason I was happy she came today.
I need her to see me master this.
She's rooted me on and picked me up on my bad days, so I want to prove to her, as well as myself and Jax, that I can do this.
"Ready?" Bucky asks.
I pull my glove on, grip the braided leather, and squeeze my thighs tight against Blackvein. I dig my spurs into him for anchor points and put my other hand in the air.
The gate flies open.
Blackvein rushes out, bucking in circles and trying to throw me off.
I grip the rope for dear life, and a cloud of dirt grows around me. My heart bangs into my chest, and I count inside my head.
One Texan.
Two Texan.
Three Texan.
Four Texan.
Five Texan.
Six Texan.
Seven Texan.
Eight Texan.
The horn blares.
Holy shit! I did it!
A new wave of adrenaline courses through my veins at the next test I face.
I have to get off him before he kills me.
Blackvein bucks, and I push off his body, making a clean escape and landing on my feet. I rush toward the safety zone as Bucky and Matrix lead Blackvein farther away from me so they can lasso him.
"Whoo hoo!" Willow cheers, jumping up and down next to Jax.
Pride swells on his expression under the wide brim of his hat. He chews on his toothpick and pumps his fist in the air. "Atta boy!"
"You did it!" Willow shouts.
My heart continues hammering like a war drum. My muscles twitch with fatigue and leftover fight. I exit the ring, just barely resisting touching my girl, who beams, making my victory that much sweeter.
Jax slaps my shoulders. "Now, that's the way to ride a bull!"
"Told you today was my day! When can I get on Whiplash?" I ask.
He chuckles. "Slow down, son. Enjoy your victory for a moment."
But I can't. I'm one level from the difference between an amateur wanna-be and a real rider who gets paid. I ask, "What about tomorrow?"
Jax chuckles again. "It's Christmas tomorrow. And besides, you gotta go a couple more rounds with Blackvein before you're ready for Whiplash."
"What? No. I'm ready," I insist.
He shakes his head. "You're not. You're close, but there's more to learn from Blackvein."
"Coach—"
"Don't argue with me. When you're ready, I'll be the first to tell you," he interjects in a don't-argue-with-me tone.
My adrenaline level plummets, and disappointment replaces it. I clench my jaw and look away.
I need to get into the big leagues. There's nothing else for me, and I can't live off the Cartwrights forever.
Willow puts her hand on my bicep. She softly says, "You did awesome. Don't worry. You'll be on Whiplash soon."
I meet her gaze, seeing nothing but understanding there. She's the only one who truly gets me.
"Listen to the little lady. Besides, nine times out of ten, sisters are right, and brothers are wrong," Jax claims.
I cringe inside, wanting to correct him about our relationship, but I know I can't. Over the last seven months, Willow and I have been all over each other.
But I still haven't taken her virginity.
I don't know why. I want to. Maybe it's the thought of what Jacob, or her brothers, will do to me if he finds out.
But something keeps making me take my time with her.
It's getting harder, though. Every time we get close, I back off, but I have to force myself not to talk her into it.
Willow's lips twitch. "You're a very smart man, Coach. I'll remind Wyatt of that when he forgets." She smirks at me, and my cock hardens.
My sassy girl's going to see who's in charge.
"You're close," Jax reiterates, then nods toward my Bronco. "Go on and get out of here. It's Christmas Eve. Enjoy your holiday."
"Merry Christmas," Willow offers.
"You too, little lady. Please keep him in line for me over the next few days. Don't let him party too hard. I don't need him coming back here with a hangover," he says.
She grins. "Don't worry. I'll make sure my brothers don't corrupt him."
"You do that," Jax states.
I groan. "Come on, Willow. Let's get going. Merry Christmas, Coach." I shake his hand.
He holds on to it longer than I expect, and tells me, "You did good, kid. A few more times, and you'll get your ride on Whiplash."
"Yes, sir," I reply, still not pleased he isn't my next ride but able to appreciate the eight seconds I stayed on Blackvein.
Jax adds, "You're close, Wyatt. Real close."
Excitement floods my veins. I try to stay cool, and nod. "Enjoy your holiday. Let's go, Willow." I hold myself back from touching her as I walk her to the passenger side. I open her door. Any gentleman would do it for a lady, so it's one thing I never worry about.
She bats her lashes and slides inside, and her face beams with happiness.
I feel the same. It's hard not to when I'm around her. We've figured out how to act around others and hide our affection for each other, but she makes me so happy. Every moment I spend with her, whether alone or with others, makes me feel giddy.
I get into the Bronco, start the engine, pull out of the gates, and slide my hand on her thigh. I turn toward her and waggle my eyebrows, stating, "Told you today was the day!"
She claps, chirping, "Yay!"
"I'm glad you were here to see it," I admit, and warmth fills my chest.
She beams brighter. "Me too."
I pick up her hand, kiss the back of it, then lace my fingers through hers. With one hand on the wheel, I refocus on the road. "Where do you want to go for shopping?"
"Oh, I had some other plans," she says.
I glance over at her.
She shoots me a coy smile.
A fluttery weightlessness dances under my skin. The space near my zipper disappears. I lean closer, lowering my voice. "Want to fill me in?"
She smirks. "Not really. You can return to the ranch but enter from the backside."
I cock an eyebrow. "Sugar, what do you have up your sleeve? And why do I feel like I'm in trouble?"
She bites her lip, and her cheeks flush.
I groan, muttering, "You're going to be the death of me."
She giggles and turns up the radio.
Christmas music blares through the truck, and she sings most of the way back.
I turn down several dirt roads and then get to the ranch's back gate. It's hardly ever used. I pull in front of it and park. "What now?"
Willow pulls a key out of her pocket and dangles it before me. "Duh. We unlock the gate."
I chuckle. "Okay, sugar."
She exits the Bronco, unlocks the gate, and opens it.
I drive through and stop.
She shuts the gate and puts the padlock back on before hopping back into the truck.
"No one will know we were here."
My curiosity is killing me. "And we're here because…"
She raises a brow. "Drive to Ashpost."
My pulse quickens. "The old cabin?"
"Yep."
"And what are we doing once we get there?"
She shyly smiles. "I'm giving you your Christmas present."
I stare at her blankly.
She tilts her head. "You don't want your present?"
"I didn't bring yours. I didn't know we were exchanging gifts right now."
She giggles and nudges me. "Don't worry. You can give me mine later."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Unless you don't want your gift?" She tosses me a sad expression.
"Didn't say that, sugar," I answer with a kiss to her hand, then go through the woods on the dirt path until we arrive at the one-room log cabin.
It was the first house the Cartwrights ever built several generations ago.
The grass is higher than it should be. The faded exterior needs a paint job.
A storm blew out all the windows but the one over the kitchen sink, and Jacob boarded that one as well, figuring it would eventually get destroyed when the next storm came.
I park the Bronco. "What now?"
"We go inside, silly."
I glance at the battered cabin, asking, "Didn't your dad say he was tearing this down?"
"It was our great-great-great-granddaddy's first home. Mom said Dad has to restore it and not rip it down," she announces.
"That's going to be hard. I agree with your dad. It's a safety hazard," I claim.
She leans closer and turns her head, challenging, "Are you scared to go inside?"
I scoff. "Of course not. I just don't want you to get hurt."
"Why would I get hurt?"
"There's a few spots in the floor that are rotting. And that's what I remember from several years ago when I was here last. Who knows what additional damage there is."
She touches my upper thigh, teasing, "Don't worry, Wyatt. I'll protect you from the floorboards."
"Cute."
"Come on," she urges, and flings open her door, sliding out of the SUV.
I follow suit, then step beside her on the porch, where a board snaps.
I jump back, pulling her with me. "Whoa!"
She curls into me and looks up. "Whoops."
"Willow, is there a reason we have to go in here? I can't guarantee you it's safe," I caution.
"Do you want your gift?" She widens her eyes and pretends to pout.
I sigh. "Of course. But I don't want you to get hurt."