Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
mikey
The next morning, we hooked up our trailers to get back on the road. Our next destination was a rodeo in Arizona, but it was also a seventeen-hour drive to get there. We’d most likely split it in two and stop along the way in Amarillo.
“We all packed up and ready to go?” I called out to the guys.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Colter nodded as he picked up the last lawn chair and put it in the back of his pickup.
“After you, milady.” I opened the passenger side door and gestured for Juniper to climb in.
She looked unimpressed as she hoisted herself up into the pickup, grabbing the “oh shit handle” to help give herself a boost. Once she was safely inside, I shut the door and ran over to the driver’s side.
I turned the key in the ignition, and the radio turned on to a country western station.
The A/C was blowing through the vents, and the sun was shining.
I didn’t know if it was the combination of everything, but I reached for Juniper, lacing our fingers together and resting our hands on the center console.
We drove out of Houston in a convoy of pickup trucks and horse trailers, leaving behind the rodeo, media, and the fans that changed everything about our fake-dating arrangement.
At the end of the day, I’d proven the boys—and the media—wrong. Juniper and I had been together for a little over a month and I’d won the championship buckle.
Technically, we could quietly end our relationship once we got back home. Lay low for a bit while it blew over on social media. It was what everyone expected, after all. A whirlwind fling. The Mikey Tucker special. But a part of me wanted to ride this out a bit longer.
I couldn’t deny that I’d been happier in Houston than I’d ever been at a rodeo. Having Juniper by my side made me feel lighter somehow. I didn’t want to get used to it, though. This thing wouldn’t last. I had to remind myself of that. Nothing about our relationship was real.
“What are you thinking about?” Juniper asked about thirty minutes into our drive.
“Hm?” I snapped out of my trance.
“You looked deep in thought over there. Just wondering what’s on your mind.”
“Not a whole lot,” I lied.
Bringing up whatever feelings I thought I had would just make this whole thing more complicated.
How was I supposed to tell my fake girlfriend that she made me forget the pressures of being a professional bull rider?
That when I was with her, a lot of my worries melted away, and I was able to just be myself.
She hummed like she didn’t quite believe me, but at the same time, she didn’t pry.
An old song from the late nineties came up on the radio, and I turned up the volume, tapping my hand on the steering wheel to the beat as Joe Diffie serenaded us.
“What kind of music do you like?” I asked as the song ended.
“I kind of just listen to whatever’s on. I don’t think I have a favorite genre or anything.”
“Really? Not even a go-to station to listen to on the radio?”
Her cheeks flushed red. “Honestly, I don’t really listen to the radio unless I’m at work. I don’t know, I’m not the type of person to have music playing all the time.”
“You like the quiet?”
“I wouldn’t say I like the quiet per se, but at the same time I don’t need something filling the silence all the time, if that makes sense.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t really understand. Music was a nice distraction for me when my thoughts got a little too loud. If I was able to focus on the lyrics, my fears of being forgotten seemed to fade a bit.
“Why does everyone care so much about who you’re dating?” The question was barely above a whisper, like she was afraid to ask. “Or who you’ve been with in the past?”
“I wish I knew.” I huffed out a laugh without humor. “I guess it’s easier to focus on someone else’s problems rather than their own. And that kind of stuff sells. It never used to bother me, the attention.”
“How come you let it bother you now, then? Why do you let them continue to do it?”
While I’d normally have a different reaction to those questions—take it personally or get defensive—they didn’t frustrate me coming from Juniper. I thought she was genuinely curious, so I answered.
“It was easier to go with it rather than fight it at first. I liked to think that any publicity was good publicity if it got my name out there. Then I think it just got to a point where I couldn’t stop it.
Now it’s all anyone cares about. If I could change it, I would.
Even on my best days of riding—the days I feel like I’m on top of the world—it seems like the only thing that matters to them is who I take home at the end of the night. ”
“I’m sorry that people can’t see you for who you are.”
Juniper didn’t say it aloud, but she didn’t need to. I understood the hidden message.
I see you for who you are.
“Okay, okay. Would you rather have hands for feet or feet for hands?” Juniper asked in between bites of the fast food we’d gotten on the road.
“Hands for feet. I could always use more hands.” I winked, and she smacked my arm with a laugh. “What would you do?”
“Hands for feet also.” She shot me a look when I laughed at her because she chose the same answer as me. “Without the sexual comment!”
“Who said it was for sexual reasons?” I teased, knowing damn well it was for sexual reasons.
She ignored me, instead waving me on. “Your turn, Casanova.”
“Would you rather travel to space or to the bottom of the ocean?”
“Oh, that’s a good one, actually. I’m terrified of open water, but I don’t know if I like the odds of going to space, either.”
“I mean, either way there’s a risk of dying. Don’t you remember the people who died in that submarine?” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but think of how many people have also died in space!” she protested. “Space. I’d go to space.”
“I think I’d go to the bottom of the ocean. I feel like it’d be cooler. We already know what space looks like, but there’s so much of the ocean that hasn’t been discovered.”
She shuddered next to me. “Horrifying. Would you rather be able to read people’s minds or see the future?”
I tapped my lips with my finger for a moment. “See the future. I don’t think I need to know what people think about me. I already know too much.”
“I don’t know, I think it would be nice to know what people thought. Might prevent a lot of heartache.” Juniper paused, going silent for a little too long. She snapped out of it, though, looking to me to ask the next question.
“Would you rather ride a horse on a two-day trip or ride a bull for eight seconds?”
“Of course, that would be your question.” She snorted. “I value my life, so I would take the horse. Wouldn’t you? If money wasn’t involved?”
“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t be caught dead on a horse.”
“What? Why?”
I didn’t answer, avoiding eye contact and gluing my gaze on the road.
“What, are you afraid of horses or something?”
“Of course not!” I didn’t sound too convincing.
Laughter filled the cab. “Oh, that’s good. Imagine that. A bull rider who’s afraid of a horse.” Her body shook as she tried to compose herself, but each time she came close, she burst into a fit of cackles again.
“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “Ask your next question, Peach.”
“Would you rather be on a reality dating show or a reality competition show?”
“What kind of competition show?” I asked, because that was important. There was a difference between a show like The Great British Baking Show and Survivor. It was also important to note that I would much rather be on Survivor.
“Something where you have to do challenges. Maybe deceive people, too.”
“See, I think I could win a dating show. But a competition show would be fun, too.”
“I saw this reality show recently that combined the dating show element with a singing competition. It was actually really interesting. This country singer, maybe you know him, had to choose ten women from thirty singers to compete for his heart, but he wasn’t able to see them when they sang.
Just hear their voices. I’d never listened to his music before, but he was pretty good.
The winner was good, too! There was this one girl, though, who drove me insane.
I was so glad when she got eliminated.” Her eyes lit up when she explained the show, and the way she described it almost had me convinced to start watching reality TV.
“Is this the guy?” After scrolling through my music app—one hand still on the wheel—I found his name, Dusty Wilder, and clicked on the most popular song. A catchy guitar riff started playing. The rest of the guys probably wouldn’t have liked it, but I was vibing with it.
“Yeah, this is the one. I think he just released the album that he recorded with the girl who won and they’re planning to go on tour soon.”
“That’s cool. Do you think you’ll try to go?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. I probably don’t have anyone to go with, though.”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t want to say I’d go with her, because we weren’t going to last that long. And making promises on a fake relationship seemed like a recipe for disaster.
“Anyway, answer the question. You didn’t pick one.”
Right. “Uh, let’s go with the competition show. How about you?”
“I think I’d be ruthless in a competition show.” Gone was the uncertainty in her expression, replaced by a wicked grin. “I’m great at deception and manipulation, and I’m not afraid to get what I want.”
“Damn, Peach. Scaring me a little there,” I joked. “Don’t go manipulating me to get what you want, now.”
Her face flushed red. “Right. Yeah.” She yawned as her eyes fluttered shut.
“Take a nap. We’re not too far away from our stop for tonight.”
After a good night’s rest and another eight-hour stretch of driving, we arrived in Arizona where the next rodeo would be. Juniper napped in the cab most of the way, but when she was awake, we talked about anything and everything under the sun.
Her favorite type of candy was saltwater taffy, she loved autumn, and her favorite type of chewing gum was Wrigley’s Big Red.
When she was six years old, she broke her arm falling out of a tree that she tried to climb, she hated horror movies but watched them in college anyway to make her friends happy, and most of the time she’d rather spend nights at home instead of going out to the bars.
That last point mostly had to do with the fact that she wanted to graduate early, so she’d taken as many credits as possible in the most challenging classes she could find.
When I caught her scrolling on her phone looking at jobs outside of Montana, I tried to untie the knots in my chest, reminding myself that she was most likely going to leave once this was over. What I still couldn’t figure out, though, was why she ended up in Silver Creek anyway.
She looked up from her phone, giving me a curious glance. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, just snooping,” I admitted, caught in the act.
“Oh.” She awkwardly put her phone away. “I was just looking at jobs. I don’t know if I’ll apply for any of them, because most of them require experience that I don’t have.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to look.”
“Right, well…” She cleared her throat. “Are you ready for your ride?”
I nodded, taking a seat next to her and putting my hand on her knee. It’d become second nature at this point, but it was all for appearances.
At least that was what I kept telling myself.
“Nervous? Excited?”
“A bit nervous, but I think that’s normal. It’s all about how you channel the nerves. You can either take advantage of them to fuel your ride or let them control you. The goal is always to stay on top.”
“Well, I’m sure it’ll go great.” She smiled at me, and I could only hope she was right.