Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
DEAN
Thankfully, it didn’t take much to add to the lumber order. Dean could’ve done it over the phone, but he preferred talking to people in person. Besides, he needed to pick up some tools to help Gemma.
Gram had a thousand and one little figurines, perfectly cared for, scattered throughout her house, but Gramps’ tools—gone. Either she sold them or his dad and uncle took them. Dean hadn’t planned on restocking a toolbox, but there he was at Bowman Hardware, deciding which set of sockets he wanted.
“Oh, my gawd.” Dean turned toward the brassy blond-haired woman who had squealed. “As I live and breathe. Dean Welker.”
“Ma’am.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t ma’am me. Like you don’t remember.”
Frantically, he wracked his brain, trying to pull some memory out of his ass. Thankfully, she wore a name badge.
Daphne Rhodes.
Rhodes. He knew that name.
Dean snapped his fingers as it came to him. “Daphne Rhodes. You related to Roy Rhodes?”
“See!” She nodded. “I knew you remembered.”
A hint of pride filled his chest for connecting the dots as he accepted her hug. “He’s an excellent rider.”
“He told me about your injury a few months back,” she said as she stepped back.
Of course he did. If Dean hadn’t busted his neck, Roy wouldn’t have won his first buckle.
“But you look good now. When you going back out there?”
“I don’t know. I’m getting a bit long in the tooth. Thirty-five seems like a good age to retire.”
“What?” she balked and invaded his personal space. “There’s no way you’re in your thirties. You’re only as old as you feel.”
When she took hold of his bicep, he stiffened in surprise.
“And you feel twenty-six to me.”
“Six months is a long time to be off the circuit,” he said.
He eyed her warily as she reached back into her pocket. From it, she pulled out a pen and a business card.
“My Uncle Todd is still in Marshall. He trained Roy.” She offered him the small rectangular piece of cardstock. “Gimme a call if you want me to set up a meeting. You could get back out there sooner than you think. Roy said you were his only competition.”
Reluctantly, he accepted the card.
“I’ll talk to Uncle Roy tonight,” she said as she stepped back. “If we time it right, you can head out to Montana by next Tuesday for the next rodeo stop.”
She turned on her heel and strutted down the aisle. He couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted that.
He had Gram’s place—twenty-five acres. Ten of which were already an open pasture. He could make a life in Marshall. A cow or two, some chickens, a goat maybe. He could work with kids who wanted to get into saddle bronc riding. Maybe even breed some mares for bucking.
He wasn’t lying when he said he’d gotten old. Most of the riders out there were in their twenties. Dean didn’t feel like he was past his prime. He had a few more good years left in him. He just needed to get back into shape.
Nodding to himself, he glanced down at the business card. Maybe he would give Uncle Roy a call. What’s the worst that could happen?
When his pocket vibrated, he froze. What sorcery was that? He scanned the aisle, expecting to see Daphne. How would she have gotten his number?
Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen and chuckled to himself.
Just a text from Parker.
Brew House?
Now that was something he didn’t have to think too hard about. He could definitely use a few beers.