7. Dane
Warren is hot when he’s angry.
I probably shouldn’t be thinking about him like that, but this is a side I’ve never seen.
Sure, I never gave him a chance half the time to respond when I was in his face like an asshole all the time.
His brown eyes, usually so warm, brim with contempt while he speaks, and the longer he lays it out, the worse I feel.
But I need the cash this partnership will bring, and we need to get along.
“I’m sorry.”
Warren’s hand grips the edge of the desk while his chair wobbles. “What?”
“I’m sorry for how I acted before, and I know the rodeo school has a reputation. I promise I won’t do anything to bring the name down.” Swallowing, I figure I’ll show some honesty as well. “I’m sorry you struggled so much, and if I was a part of that, I’m…still sorry.”
If there’s a better word than sorry right now, I don’t know what it is. But it seems to be enough.
Warren nods, and his shoulders relax. “Okay. Good.” He shuffles some papers on his desk before raising his gaze to mine again. “Would you like a cinnamon bun? My pops made them this morning. I don’t like to share, but since you apologized, I’ll allow it.”
Oh no.
How can he be spitting angry at me one minute, then offering me a fucking cinnamon bun with a shy smile and a cute—nope. I’m not going there. This is still Warren Burke, and maybe we cleared the air, but we sure as hell haven’t erased the board with our history.
“Sure. Thanks.”
Reaching forward when he pushes the container towards me, my stomach growls loud enough to draw a laugh from Warren. I do a decent job of not staring at his throat when he throws his head back laughing, and I sit back with the gooey cinnamon bun.
“My pops loves to make breakfast now that he’s retired with Dad. Today he felt like baking.”
“So you live at home still?”
He stiffens. “For now, I do.”
Warren’s guard is back up, but thankfully, I have an ounce of self-preservation and don’t tease him about it. He’s lucky he has a home and two dads who obviously love him beyond measure. Instead, I switch to the topic we’re here for.
“So, we need to work together. You want the head or the heels?”
“I’d prefer the head.”
“Of course you would.” I smirk, and Warren narrows his gaze. “I can do either. I’m versatile that way.” I throw Warren a wink and swear to god, his cheeks turn as red as a freshly pickled beet. This should be fun. Maybe I can tease him in other ways if it still brings the fire to his attitude.
Or maybe I should try being professional. That’s a lot less fun, but I should consider it.
“When do you want to practice? I’d like to get a feel for working with a partner before our first rodeo.
Speaking of that…” He fiddles with the computer mouse and pecks slowly at the keyboard.
“I’ve already entered a spring rodeo the first weekend in May in tie-down.
If you were planning to attend that one, we need to register our team today to make the deadline. Or we just choose a later one.”
“What’s the fee? I can make that one.”
“Doesn’t matter. The school is paying our team fees, remember?”
“Right. I’m not used to being rich. Sign us up then.”
Warren huffs and pecks at the keyboard. “It’s not rich. It’s a sponsorship. I know you have one from Granburg Feeds, so you’re not destitute, Walker.”
Image is everything, as they say. I guess I’m doing a decent job of maintaining respectability for the great Warren Burke to know I have a sponsorship still and can’t be doing that bad.
He sits back after punching a final key. “There. We’re registered. We have two weeks to gel together. Want to get started today?”
I do, but I need to fix my truck first now that I have money for parts. Changing brake pads isn’t an all-day job, but it could be if I run into other issues.
“I’d love to, Burkey, but I have some repairs to do on my truck first. How about tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll call the contractor for a few steers if you’re sure about tomorrow.”
“Why wouldn’t I be sure?”
Warren shrugs a shoulder. “How about 9 A.M.? Jesse has a steer wrestling practice booked for noon.”
“I’ll be here.” Standing, I walk to the door but turn back before leaving. “Thanks for the cinnamon bun. Tell your pops it was good.”
Before Warren can bat his doe eyes or smile or do any other cute thing, I leave.
Once outside, I exhale.
This will be a tough summer, but if all goes well, Darla will be comfortable.
Now, if only I could say the same for myself. There’s nothing comfortable about suddenly being in the Burke family fold. I know I should be grateful, but it won’t come easy.
Warren’s easy acceptance of my apology should have made me feel better. It didn’t. Instead, it made me wish I had a better outcome to my life and feel envious of his dads. He lives at home and gets fresh cinnamon buns.
I get bills for my sister’s care facility and stale bread on sale.
After parking at the auto parts store, I feel my mood shift some. Working on vehicles has always calmed me, and I love walking up and down the parts rows. It reminds me of a happier time when I had a backup plan to rodeo and a family that wasn’t splintered apart.
Finding the parts for my truck, I splurge and get the higher-quality brake pads. It’s not much of a price difference, but it’s nice to make the purchase without having to give up something in exchange. Something I’m an expert with.
With my purchases in a bag, I’m definitely in a happier place. Until I exit the store to find a man leaning against my truck. The guy from the casino.
“What do you want?”
He smiles easily as he shifts off my truck so I can open the driver’s side door.
“Information mostly. Heard you have a new sponsor and you’re getting back to the rodeo ring.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
His easy smile fades as he leans closer. “It matters because you still owe money, Dane.”
Leaning closer, I hiss in his face. “You said it was clear when I gave you the last thing I owned that had any value.”
He steps away. “Turns out it wasn’t worth as much as we thought.”
I don’t have time for this. This guy is clearly yanking my chain and just trying to extort money I don’t have. Illegal deal or not, I met their conditions and paid more than I was in for. This ended when I gave him my sister’s horse.
“Leave me alone, or I’ll call the cops.”
The man laughs and backs away. “Your sister doesn’t like the flashing lights and sirens. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
He turns to walk away, and I shout after him. “Stay away from my sister!” He doesn’t even turn around. He just keeps walking until he disappears around the corner.
My stomach knots when I remember Darla’s reactions to the flashing lights of the ambulance. An ambulance that I’d called even when I knew it was pointless, but didn’t know what else to do.
The back of my skull throbs with a headache. A headache that warns you more shit is about to hit the fan, and I don’t know if this time will be the one to break me. One man can only weather so much and remain standing.
Putting the truck in gear, I resist the urge to run to my sister. She’s doing well, and the facility has security. I know she can’t be harmed there. If I show up again so soon with no reason, that will concern her more than anything.
The brake job is my priority. Then it’s focusing on the rodeo season.
After pulling into the parking lot of my rooming house, I briefly wonder if I could ask to use the lot at the rodeo school instead of being so open in the parking lot here.
I don’t know my fellow room renters, and I don’t want to rock the boat with any of them if the job takes too long and I’m hogging space.
In a perfect world, I would have just stayed at the parts store, but the giant sign announcing no repairs in the parking lot was more than a suggestion. I just need to fix my brakes and not bring attention to myself doing it.
“Fuck it.”
Throwing the truck in gear, I back out of my parking space and head back to the rodeo school.
I’m finished with the front brakes and about to start on the rear pads, when a pair of boots appear near my head.
“Jesse told me you asked to use the school garage for your repairs. When you said you needed to fix your brakes, I assumed you were taking it to a mechanic.”
Warren’s voice has an edge. Like maybe he didn’t even believe I had work to do before roping practice and hates seeing me doing exactly what I said I’d do.
“Well, technically, I’m a mechanic, so you’re not wrong there. I don’t have the papers to prove it, but I know what I’m doing. Brake jobs are pretty straightforward.”
His boots stay in my line of vision, so I move away from the rear tire and sit up to see what he wants. Warren’s face quickly morphs from surprise to indifference when I stare his way. “Is this a problem for you? I asked Jesse.”
“No. I just…what do you mean you don’t have papers to prove it?”
“I never wrote the exams.” Shrugging, I shimmy back down to keep working. Warren’s feet remain. I really don’t know what he wants. I asked his brother if I could use the space, and I told him I needed to do this today. I’ve done nothing wrong.
Yet his feet remain in my periphery, judging me like weathered old men at the country store.
“Do you need help?”
The question distracts me so much that I nearly drop the old brake pad on my face. “What?”
He clears his throat. “Like, do you need someone to hand you tools or something? If we’re a team in the ring, we could…maybe be a team out of the ring.”
Sliding out again, I roll onto my side and peer up at him. “Do you even know what a lug wrench is, Burke?”
He huffs. “Yes, asshole. I’ve never used one since you changed my tire for me, but I know what it is.”
Right. I forgot about that. Something about the way he stared at his flat tire that night made me step in. I know he probably hated it, but I couldn’t pretend I didn’t see him or that it cracked me open a little.
“Okay. Get me a 14mm socket ready, then. I just need to get this caliper back on and clean up this side. Then I have the passenger rear side left to do.”
He bends next to my tools laid out along the floor and I’m happy I took the chance to call and ask to use the space.
It feels safe here, and it took me the entire front brake job to acknowledge the odd feeling sitting on my chest was safety.
Still not sure what to do with that, except ignore it for now.
After resuming my place under the truck, I do what I need to and call on Warren to hand me the socket. A handle slaps into my hand—hard. My fingers wrap around it, and without checking, I bring it to the bolt and work.
When I’m finished, I wiggle out and find Warren still watching me.
“Thanks. You’re right. Working together outside the ring helps.” I nod towards the tire. “Roll that over, will ya?”
He does as I ask, rolling over the tire to me, and I spin it around before hefting it up in place. “If you want to place a lug nut from that pile on each bolt sticking out, I’ll get the torque wrench.”
We work together in silence, and it honestly hurts to admit that I enjoy the help and the company. I’ve spent so much time alone the past few years, I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to do something simple with a friend.
Not the Warren is a friend. He’s a polite co-worker at best.
“The night you ran out of gas,” Warren begins, and I instantly regret my warmer thoughts of him being good company. “How come you travelled that far knowing the gas gauge was a problem? You’re in here changing brakes because you know we have travel coming. You’re not telling me something.”
He turns to face me, shoulders square with those deep brown eyes locked on me, searching for something I don’t want to tell him.
So I don’t.
I shoulder my way in front of him, tighten the nuts in silence before jacking the truck down and walking to the other side.
“You not answering me is rather telling, Walker.”
“Sure, Burke. You have me all figured out.” I loosen the nuts on the final tire, turning my back to him.
He snorts a rather unfriendly laugh. “You’re so focused on yourself that you overlook simple things like checking your gas. So busy riding the high of winning, you didn’t take care of something important. I hope that’s not your attitude as a partner.”
The wrench hits the ground with a thud, and I turn towards him.
My hands push, no, they shove him against the wall, and my face is in his before I even know what I’ll say.
“Don’t pretend to know me, Burke.” His pupils blow wide, and my stupid fingers curl into his shirt, searching for the warmth of his skin.
I want to tell him to stop looking at me like I’m better than what he sees. To stop trying to be my friend and offer the olive branch. Men like Warren Burke shouldn’t even be roping with me, let alone trying to be my friend.
“Maybe I want to know you, Walker.” Warren’s voice is barely above a whisper.
His gaze drops to my lips, and for that split second, I drop all my shields and dip my head to the lips I’ve thought about in private for years.
Warren gasps and presses his lips to mine, which I don’t hate.
His hands come to rest at my hips, squeezing like he can’t believe I’m real as he kisses me back.
He kisses me back!
It’s the ultimate high to feel his want and the biggest bucket of cold water all at once.
I pull away sharply and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Warren stands in place, chest heaving and wide-eyed. I spin and return to work on my final set of brakes without saying a word as I jack the truck back up.
It’s not until his footsteps echo on the floor away from me that I rest my head against the truck and wish I had a different life.
And I wish I didn’t want Warren Burke as much as I always have.