24. Duke
TWENTY-FOUR
DUKE
Amid the frosty bite of a December morning, the twang of country music mingled with the excited chatter of the crowd as the indoor arena came to life.
I stood at the edge, watching Sylvie’s wide eyes take in the scene.
It was like watching a child see Christmas lights for the first time, her cheeks flushed with a mix of awe and curiosity.
Damn, I’d missed this place.
The rodeo had always been my sanctuary, a place where I felt alive and free, before responsibilities clamped down on me.
“You all right there?” I drawled, nudging her with my elbow.
She blinked, her gaze turning to me, and a shy smile curved her lips. “Yes, just... it’s so much bigger than I imagined.”
I smirked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to my side. “Yeah, well, everything about this place is big—the dreams, the winnings, the bulls, the hearts.”
Her eyes sparkled, and I hoped she understood, not just about the rodeo but maybe about us too.
I slipped my hand into my pocket, fingers curling around the cool metal of the belt buckle I’d won years ago.
I’d held on to it, like a piece of my old self, never imagining I would one day give it to a King.
“Close your eyes,” I murmured, holding the buckle in my fist in front of her.
She raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge dancing in her eyes. “Why? Planning to blindfold me and steal me away?”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “As tempting as that sounds, just humor me.”
Her lashes fluttered closed, and I carefully placed the buckle in her upturned palm.
When she opened her eyes, her fingers brushed over the intricate design of the prize. “Duke, this is—I can’t take it.”
I shrugged, the corners of my lips tugging up. “Consider it a loan. Something to remember this day by. Can’t be a cowgirl without a proper buckle.” I tapped the tip of her nose with my knuckle as she beamed at me.
A vise tightened around my chest.
As the rodeo events began, I scanned the chute, my eyes landing on a few of the folks I still knew on the circuit. I leaned in. “Come on. There are a few people I’d like you to meet.”
At the edge of the arena, there was Tom, the bull rider who’d broken his leg at least three times and still wouldn’t quit, and Jess, the barrel racer with a hearty laugh that could light up the darkest sky.
Security tried to keep us from getting too close when Tom spotted me.
I raised a hand in greeting, and a grin split his face.
“Well fuck me sideways!” he shouted over the crowd and sauntered toward us.
I gritted my teeth as Sylvie covered her laugh. I held out my hand. “Tom.”
He shook my hand eagerly and nodded to the guard. “Come on back.”
I gently placed my hand on Sylvie’s back, guiding her toward the area where the real action was. We stopped at the edge overlooking the preparations for the show.
“Didn’t think I’d see you for a minute,” Tom boomed, slapping me on the back with enough force to make my teeth rattle. He looked at Sylvie. “Or with company.”
I smirked, wrapping an arm around Sylvie’s waist and pulling her in close. “Tom, meet Sylvie King. Sylvie, this is Tom. He’s the guy who’s determined to make every bone in his body a different shade of broken.”
Tom grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easier than it looks these days.” He extended a dusty hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Sylvie blushed, offering a shy smile, and took his hand. “Thanks. It’s nice to meet you too.”
As we chatted and laughed, Tom caught me up on all the drama that came with life on the rodeo.
Soon Jess joined our little circle, her horse-scented leather jacket announcing her arrival before she even spoke.
“Duke, you old dog! You never told us you were coming, let alone bringing a plus-one today.”
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at her exaggerated wink. “Jess, this is Sylvie. Sylvie, meet Jess. She’s the fastest thing on four legs, other than her horse, of course.”
Jess chuckled, giving Sylvie a friendly nod. “Pleasure to meet you, Sylvie. Duke here might be a grump, but he’s family.”
Sylvie’s laughter mingled with theirs, and a swell of warmth filled my chest. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable just.
.. unfamiliar. These people, these moments—they were the fabric of my past, woven into the present I was building with Sylvie.
As we all continued to chat, I noticed the occasional glance down at Sylvie’s midsection.
It was subtle, but I knew these people well enough to recognize their curiosity.
As if on cue, Jess nudged me with her elbow and gave me a sly grin. “Duke, is there something you’re not telling us? Our shy friend here seems to be hiding a secret under that coat.”
I shot her a look that was half annoyance, half gratitude for her not beating around the bush. “No secret.”
My chest swelled with a mix of pride and protectiveness. She was mine, and I was hers, whether our hometown liked it or not. When the time came to put it all out there, I felt a wave of uncertainty.
I wasn’t good with words, especially in front of a crowd, but damn if I wasn’t going to try. “Sylvie’s my—” Friend? Girlfriend? Fuck buddy? Roommate? Jesus Christ, man... “Sylvie’s my girl.”
My girl. I let the words roll around in my head for a second. Hell yeah.
That was the only label that seemed to feel right. I wrapped my arm around Sylvie’s waist. She curled into me, a hint of a blush staining her cheeks. Maybe it was a bit possessive, but I saw the way she liked it.
Hell, I liked it too.
“Well I’ll be damned.” Jess beamed at Sylvie. “You did the unthinkable. Saddled old Duke Sullivan.”
Conversation flowed around as competitors began situating for their events, and Sylvie tipped her face to me. “Your girl, huh?” Teasing laughter laced through her words.
I leaned in, my voice low enough for only her to hear. “You’re mine, Sylvie King. Get used to it.”
With an arm around her shoulders, I took in the action. I had to push down my feelings of loss and sadness. A lifetime ago I had thought I’d be at the top of the winner’s podium.
A lucky couple of times, I was.
When she started to look restless and a bit tired from standing, I guided Sylvie to our seats.
Without taking her eyes off the arena, she leaned in. “I thought rodeos were a summer thing.”
“Regular season typically wraps in October, but there’s a lot of money to be won before the summertime grind starts.
” I shrugged. “Rodeo world really doesn’t have an offseason.
A good winter run can set up your whole year.
” I pointed to the men and women fixing their leathers and getting pep talks from their teams. “Guys are coming out hungry—hammer cocked and ready to go.” Winters had once provided rocket fuel for some of my best seasons.
They created momentum and confidence. “The number of rodeos in the winter months is lower, but the few events that do happen tend to have bigger payouts.”
The camaraderie was tangible, the air buzzing with energy and anticipation.
When I looked over, her soft brown eyes were looking at me, studying my face. “You miss it.”
My knee-jerk reaction was to deny it. To stuff down the feelings I didn’t allow myself to feel. Instead, I offered a jerky nod and the truth. “Sometimes.”
Sylvie laced her arm through mine and rested her head on my shoulder as the events began. A surge of gratitude for these people who’d once been my rivals and teammates washed through me. Life in the rodeo was a long time ago, and despite the bumps and turns, it brought me here.
She was mine, despite the obstacles our families placed in front of us, and in this world where strength and grit were revered, I knew Sylvie was tougher than any bull I’d ever faced.