3. Maverick
Chapter 3
Maverick
Every muscle in my body screams at me, pleading, begging for rest, but Callie Harper still has me wrapped around her finger.
She’s out of Luke’s truck the second we pull into the lot. Cutoff jean shorts, a black T-shirt stamped with her family’s ranch logo, and those long, sun-kissed legs tucked into beat-up cowboy boots. She might’ve been gone from the ranch, but clearly, she never let her roots go.
All I want is to drag myself to the motel, soak in scalding water until I can’t feel my skin, and collapse on the too-hard mattress. My tendons ache as much as the rest of me, a reminder of today’s ride. I stuck the eight, but that bull did his best to break me apart.
That’s the thing about riding, the high hits like a drug. But when it wears off, you’re left bruised and broken. And still… we’d all do it again in a heartbeat.
Coming to a dive bar in the middle of nowhere is my personal idea of hell, but one look from Callie, and that bone-deep exhaustion turns into a paper-thin excuse.
If I’m not careful, people are going to figure out I’m nothing more than a puppy trailing after her which isn’t far from the truth. I’ve been waiting for her to come home since the day she left.
When it became obvious neither Colt nor I would agree to ride in the same truck, Callie suggested we could both cram into Luke’s or stay behind. Damn her for knowing exactly what to say to get us moving.
Even my toes hurt as I follow her toward the bar, two massive barn doors marking the entrance. A heavy dread settles in my gut, begging me to turn around. I’m tired. I’m sore. I just want to crash.
“You coming?” Callie turns back, her smile beaming at me, and my whole world stops for a second, before crashing back into me. She’s glowing, lit from within like she swallowed the sun, and somehow, her warmth reaches me from across the gravel lot. The ache in my bones eases.
God broke the mold with Callie Harper. Nothing and no one has ever come close.
I nod. Words are hard when she’s near. She reaches her hand back, fingers twitching like she’s waiting for mine.
Colt beats me to it.
He grabs her hand and spins her into him, her copper hair flying, laughter bursting out of her. Her wide eyes flick up to meet his, and that sharp twist in my gut returns.
He smirks at me over her shoulder, smug in a way that makes my fists clench. We’ve kept our distance for years, like opposite poles of a magnet. And right now? I could punch that look clean off his face.
Callie pauses at the door, waiting for me, and Colt’s forced to stop or let her go. He doesn’t say anything, but the look he throws me is loud: Back off .
She flashes me a mischievous smirk, the same one she used to wear when dragging us into trouble. My childhood was all scraped knees, stolen pie, and summer sun. And every golden memory has her in it.
Luke claps a hand on my shoulder. “You gonna keep staring or follow her in?”
I grunt, half-annoyed, half-grateful for the shove. He’s right. She’s finally here. No point wasting time reliving the past.
Gravel crunches beneath my feet as I catch up to them, half expecting Colt to argue, but he just keeps his hand on her shoulder, meeting my eyes in a truce that so long as she’s around, an agreement that whatever’s between us comes second to her.
The pounding twang of banjos makes me wince the second we step inside. A wall of heat and noise hits like a stampede, and my head’s already pulsing. Colt winces too, at least I’m not the only one suffering.
He’s forcing his signature dimpled smile. The one that makes people believe they’re close to him, while he’s actually maintaining his distance. Honestly, it’s a fucking talent.
Somehow, Callie slipped away from both of us, wiggling through the crowd. It’s packed in here, a mix between not much else to do and people wanting to see bull riders up close. I’ve been to enough of these to know what to expect. Men looking for a fight and girls with hopes that they may just be the one who ropes one of us in.
Can’t help but feel bad for them because I’ve never seen a cowboy settle down that way. We’re a different breed, drifting from one place to another. The idea of being tethered feels more like a noose than anything.
Colt’s chatting with fans, putting on that charming grin. Me? I shove through the crowd with half-assed apologies, determined to get to her.
By the time I do, there’s a line creased between her brows as she stares down some guy, her arms crossed in front of her. I’m about to step in when Colt materializes beside me, shoulder bumping mine.
“Let’s see what she does,” he says, almost fond. “Kinda feel bad for the guy.”
He doesn’t notice my double take, too focused on the showdown.
Whatever she says, it’s working. The guy’s ears turn red. He’s not having an easy go of it. He swipes off his hat and nods a few more times without making eye contact, then spins on his heels and vanishes into the crowd like a scolded dog.
I shake my head. “She always did know how to put someone in their place.”
Colt laughs. “We should know better than anyone.”
I chuckle, memories bubbling up of her chewing us out while standing a foot shorter, somehow still terrifying.
Blue eyes shift to me, a familiar lightness in Colt’s gaze for the few seconds it takes him to remember things aren’t what they used to be. The wall comes down again, freezing me out.
I rub my neck, the weight of the day dragging me down. “I need a drink.”
“Agreed,” Colt says, leading us to a corner booth with a reserved sign propped on the table.
I collapse onto the bench with a groan, resting my head against the wooden back. It’s too early for how much everything hurts. Every inch of me hurts. Colt must notice because a bottle of pills slides across the table. I don’t like pills; it’s too easy to rely on them. Too many riders have gone out that way.
I go to push them back, but he stops me. “Relax. It’s just ibuprofen.”
Grunting my thanks, I pop a few into my mouth, swallowing them dry. Anything to get me through the next few hours.
“You two look rough,” Callie teases, slipping in beside Colt. “Should’ve left you at home.” Her voice is smooth, like bourbon over ice. “Don’t worry,” she adds with a wink. “I ordered us some drinks.”
As if summoned, the waitress appears with a black tray nearly toppling with glasses. “Two steins and a mixer, sweetheart?”
“That’s us,” Callie chirps, already reaching up to help her. “Keep ’em coming.” Callie slides a tip across the table, and the waitress looks like she’s already half in love with her. Our girl just has that effect on people.
Our drinks hit the table with a satisfying thud. The glasses are frosted, and the beer goes down smooth, cold against my throat. Colt and I let out matching groans as the blend of bitter hops and sweet malt hits.
“Alright, you got us here. Now it’s time you answered our questions.” I meet her gaze steadily. She’s not squirming her way out of this.
“What brings you back here, Callie? Why now?” Colt asks the question that’s been on both of our minds since the second we saw her.
She takes her time sipping her drink. I hold back my impatience. I’ve been waiting a long time. I can wait a little longer.
“I’ve got the summer off. I was planning on staying for the season. Thought I’d tag along with you two,” she says finally. “Just graduated. My job doesn’t start till the fall.”
It lands with a quiet thud. Final. Like she’s already marked the day she leaves on the calendar.
Her gaze flicks up. “Is me being here… not okay?”
The uncertainty in her voice slices right through me. No hint of the wild, fearless girl who used to boss us around like she ran the damn world.
“Of course it’s okay,” I say quickly. “This place is your home too.” I leave the rest of my thoughts unsaid. Everything I’ve been wishing for is sitting right in front of me like a present, wrapped up in a bow.
She lets go of a long, deep breath, her shoulders sagging like the weight of the world has just been lifted off her.
I want to press. Ask why she never visited, didn’t call, didn’t come home even once. But I don’t. Not tonight. I won’t risk breaking whatever this is.
Clearly, Colt feels the same because he skirts around the topic, instead asking, “What has our little Callie been up to all these years?”
Callie perks up, talking about her life, and her mood is contagious as ever.
The warm ease between us spreads like the alcohol, a buzz in my veins. We drink, Callie leading the conversation, her stories rolling out and lulling me into the soft cradle of the past. Colt’s defenses slip, the fake smile turning real, and I’m just lost enough in this unexpected reunion to let it feel normal. The noise and ache recede, and all that’s left is the feeling that the world might’ve fixed itself.
It’s been a long time since I felt like this, like the past didn’t wreck everything, like maybe there’s still something worth saving. Callie’s in the middle, the axis Colt and I still spin around, and when I glance his way, there’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes. We both know she’s the reason we’re even sitting here like this.
“You should see the campus,” Callie says, sipping her drink, more talkative than I’ve ever seen her, more confident than the girl who left. “Half the buildings look like castles. I swear, I kept expecting someone to hand me a wand and a Latin textbook.”
Colt leans in, grinning. “Please tell me you wore a plaid skirt.”
Callie shoots him a look, sharp but amused. “Gross.”
“What?” He throws up a hand. “Just trying to picture you in your natural academic habitat.”
“Try picturing me punching you in the throat instead.”
Colt chuckles, and she fights a smile, losing quickly. Just like that, the air feels light again.
Drinks go down easily as more of the crew shows up. Other riders I’ve seen before, faces that come and go with the dangers of the circuit, fill the tables around us. The bar pulses with laughter and shouts, the carefree hum of cowboys too young to know their limits or too wild to care.
Colt and Callie go back and forth, familiar as breathing, and I can almost see the kids they used to be, arguing over who got the last slice of Mrs. Kitty’s cake. I watch them together, talking close, and can’t shake the feeling that I’m seeing everything I missed, like glimpses of a life I could’ve had.
Huffing out a breath, I brush the hair off my warm face. Fuck, I must be drunk. I’m getting all sentimental.
“You good?” Luke asks, his voice low enough not to carry. He raises an eyebrow like he’s worried about my sanity. I’m worried about it too, but I huff out a laugh. I’m in for a hell of a night.
I give him a curt nod, but push my glass into the center of the table, not that it’ll do any good, considering it’s empty.
“Your girl’s looking cozy,” Luke remarks, nodding his head in Callie’s direction.
They sit so close their elbows brush, both of them flushed and happy. I search my feelings but find no trace of jealousy. “Just catching up,”
Luke snorts and leans back. “You’re too calm for your own good, buddy.”
“It’s complicated,” I admit, and I scrub my hand through my hair, as if that’ll help clear the mental mess Callie has made.
“No kidding. And here I thought you hated each other.”
I start to respond, but Callie’s laughter cuts through, sweet and sudden, yanking my attention straight back to her. She’s flushed and radiant, a little tipsy, and for a second, I forget about the ache in my shoulders, the rivalry simmering between me and Colt, the past that won’t stay buried.
He catches her instinctively, hand steadying her lower back, and I’m hit with that same flash of electricity.
I don’t know what I expected this night to be, but watching them together like this relaxed and close, like no time passed at all does something to me.
Her cheeks are flushed, her smile loose around the edges, and that familiar spark lights behind her eyes. She exhales like she just made a decision, setting her glass down with a clink. She sways slightly in her seat, bumping into Colt’s side.
“I want to dance.”
“God, why?” Colt groans like it physically pains him, but I can already see the gleam in his hazy eyes. The alcohol’s hitting him hard.
Callie grins at him, all sunshine and challenge. “Unless you’re scared of a little line dancing.”
“Fuck… you just had to put it like that, didn’t you…” Colt drains the last of his drink before grabbing her hand. “Alright, let’s go.”
She stands, then turns to me with that wild gleam in her eyes, the one that used to get us into trouble.
She leans in, her smile crooked. “Mav…”
“Yeah?”
“Dance with me,” she says, playful, teasing.
“I’m not dancing, Cal.”
My joints are creaking as it is. At least the beer’s kicking in, numbing some of the pain.
“Please.”
Well, fuck me. The plea in her voice wrecks me. I’d walk into a fire if she asked.
She pulls me to my feet, weaving us through the crowd like she owns the damn place.
We follow because we always have.
It’s in that moment I know:
Callie Harper could tempt the devil with her smile.