29. Cassandra
CASSANDRA
“ T his looks weird.” I turned in the mirror and stared at my butt. “I hate wearing jeans.”
“You should wear them more,” Christian said with a near-giddy smile as he squeezed my ass. “You look damn good.”
“I’m changing into my clothes.”
“You’ll get filthy.”
“We’re just watching Ray. I’m not riding a bull.”
Going to the rodeo had been the last thing on my mind. I had been so caught up with planning and executing the groundbreaking ceremony and running away from Christian that I had nothing to wear.
I made it work like I always did.
Blue jeans, the boots Christian had given me, and a silk button-up paired nicely for the occasion.
“Can’t wait to take this off later,” Christian murmured as he hooked a finger in the neckline of my blouse. Heavy clouds of lust lingered in his eyes.
I mirrored him, trailing my finger around his obnoxiously large belt buckle, then dragging him against me. “Likewise.” I smoothed my hands up his stomach and chest, savoring the softness.
I loved his body. Those broad shoulders.
His thick biceps and thighs. The way I pressed into him when he hugged me like he was trying to make a mold of the feeling and hold on to it for eternity.
I loved the way I could tuck in right around his hip and rest in the curve of his belly.
He was sturdy and steadfast, but gentle. He handled me with care.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said as he reached over my shoulder.
Gracie darted in and shoved a gift bag into his hand, then dashed away, giggling.
“Presents and compliments,” I mused as I pulled the tissue paper out. “I might stick around.”
I reached in and touched rough, heavy fabric. Curious, I pulled it out.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.” I studied the canvas jacket. It was a warm tan color that matched his jacket.
“Actually, I did,” Christian said, taking the jacket and turning it around to show me the embroidered Griffith Brothers Ranch logo. “You’re part of the ranch. The team. The family. You get a jacket.”
I laughed as I stretched my arms out and let him put it on me. “If I had known I would get clothes, you might have convinced me to stay sooner.”
“I’ll remember that,” he said as he smoothed his palms over my shoulders.
It took us nearly three hours for our caravan to drive to Houston. Christian, the girls, and I were in his truck, while CJ, Becks, Nate, and baby Charlie followed in their new SUV. Claire and Silas had driven to the arena earlier in the day.
Christian gave my hand a squeeze as we trekked through the parking lot.
“This is…” I looked around. “Chaos.”
“Best. Day. Ever!” Bree squealed.
“Do you think Uncle Ray will let us near the chute?” Gracie asked.
“Can I get a snack?” Bree asked.
“What concerts are happening again?”
“I wanna go see the?—”
“That’s enough,” I clipped. “You’ll make me dizzy if you keep that up.”
Christian gave me a nudge of approval and a wink.
It wasn’t a big deal.
“How about we go scope everything out and see how much time we have?” he said as he kept a hand on Gracie’s shoulder, but still laced our fingers together.
“Our boots match,” Bree said, beaming as she looked down at our feet and matched her stride to mine. The boots were a gift from Christian from Ray’s line of western wear.
Usually, I would have said something sassy like, “I know,” or, “You have good taste if you’re dressing like me.”
But Bree’s confidence was about more than shoes. I knew it in my bones, because I felt it too. Funny how a pair of shoes made me feel like I belonged.
“We look good, don’t we?” I said, tossing my arm around Bree.
Bree put her arm around my waist. “Daddy, do you think Uncle Ray will get more sponsorships? Because he should do ads for clothes so I can get free stuff.”
Christian laughed. “I don’t think kids clothing brands sponsor many bull riders. Usually just boots and jeans.”
“But he’s done—like—those underwear ads.”
I lifted an eyebrow at Christian and mouthed, “Which ones?”
He shot me a look so sharp I nearly tripped.
The arena was deafening. Instinctively, I held on tight to Bree and followed Christian and Gracie through the throngs of people milling about. He kept a tight grip on my hand, weaving through the masses as we made our way to an area that had been cordoned off with metal gates and rope.
“Uncle Ray!” Gracie screamed in excitement.
I honestly had no idea how Gracie picked him out of the mass of men dressed like clones of each other. But Ray looked up and grinned as he elbowed his way through the bodies.
“There’s my Gracie Girl!” he said, snatching her up and putting her on his shoulders.
If I had been treated like that at eleven, I would have insisted I was too big to sit on someone’s shoulders. But not Gracie.
Bree hugged Ray. “Daddy showed me the video of your ride last night!”
“Yeah?” He squeezed her tight. “What’d you think?”
Bree tapped her chin. “Underscored, but I’ll let it slide since you’re still on top.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, fist bumping her.
The rest of the Griffith crew condensed, saying hello to Ray and wishing him luck.
Gracie hopped off his shoulders and scurried over to me so Ray could hold his newest niece, who was sporting a pair of baby-sized noise canceling headphones.
“Good thing she looks like Becks and not your ugly mug,” Ray said, carefully elbowing Nate in the ribs.
Nate pressed a kiss to the side of his wife’s head. Becks slipped her hand in Nate’s. His rough, scarred skin wrapped around hers like a protective shield.
I knew the basics of what they had been through—meeting in Afghanistan and falling in love—but in that moment, I realized that I had only heard about it from Becks.
Christian never mentioned it.
Ray’s sharp eyes landed on me. “You ever watched bull riding before?”
“This will be a first.”
He grinned. “You’re gonna hate it.”
Ray brought over his manager, Marty, who hooked us up with passes to be in the staging area.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Becks said as she bounced from foot to foot as she tried to soothe the baby. Nate and Christian were taking Bree and Gracie around, leaving us on the small deck under the sponsor tent. “I’ve been wondering when one of the boys would bring a woman around long-term.”
I curled my fingers around the metal gate. “I don’t know about long-term.”
I saw the age in her eyes as she studied me. “You’re good for him. For all of them. Christian needed someone like you.”
“What do you mean?”
She shifted Charlotte to her shoulder and rubbed her tiny little back.
“Someone who doesn’t kiss his ass. Someone who doesn’t want to take over his role as the girls’ parent.
When Nathan and I got stateside and I moved down here, I offered to help Christian all the time.
He never took me up on it. At first I thought it was because he didn’t like me, but Nathan said it was because Christian thought he had to prove to himself that he could do it.
That he could do their hair, fix the lunches, have the puberty talks, show up to mommy-and-me activities in all his burly cowboy glory without a hint of remorse.
That he was capable of doing all the things Gretchen did.
A few years ago he started asking for a hand, but only because he needed it or because schedules were crazy, not because he couldn’t do it.
” She turned her back to the arena. “But I think he realized that he needs you. He doesn’t need you to be their mom. He needs your tenacity.”
“It’s weird thinking about leaving New York for good. Packing up my apartment. Leaving the dream behind.”
She smoothed her hand over the tufts of ginger hair that coated Charlie’s head. “Trust me, I know what that feels like. People look at you like you’re insane when you pivot and chase what makes you happy instead of what makes you look good.”
Hands slipped around my hips. I didn’t even have to turn around to know it was Christian pulling me against his chest.
“Hey,” I said as I looked up.
His beard brushed the side of my head as I tilted and stole a chaste kiss. “Where are the girls?”
“Nate and CJ are bringing ’em up. They wanted to go look at livestock.”
“They have a pet cow that lives in my office and eats my ice cream, and they want to see more cows?”
Christian buried his nose in the back of my hair. “I like that you just called it ‘your’ office.”
“Slip of the tongue.”
He chuckled. “I know where I’d like to slip my tongue.”
“We are around your family,” I hissed.
“Don’t mind me,” Becks said with a snicker. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
Chaos in the arena caught my attention as the announcer introduced the first competitor riding for the championship.
“Oh my god,” I whispered as I clapped my hands over my mouth.
“It looks brutal,” Becks said. “But they’re usually fine after.”
“ Usually ?” I squeaked.
The animal that the rider had mounted bucked and thrashed against the corral, nearly pinning him to the wall.
“Ray’s going to ride that ?”
Christian’s hold on me tightened. “No, that’s Ball Buster. Ray drew Homewrecker.”
“That sounds way worse.”
“It is, but it’s a good thing,” Christian said. “He’s one of the meanest ones. Homewrecker and Ray have a history. Homewrecker tries to kill him, and Ray wins a shit ton of money. Apparently, it’s worth it to him.”
“You Griffiths are psychotic. Why—pray tell—is riding the meanest bull a good thing? Get one that’s nice and tuckered out.”
Christian pointed to the scoreboard. “Each rider has the possibility of getting a hundred points. Fifty points come from the rider’s performance. Fifty points come from how hard the bull bucks.”
It was starting to make more sense. “So, the meaner the bull, the more points you get.”
“That’s right.”
The gate released and the bull jumped— jumped —out. A thousand pounds of ornery muscle flew through the air and landed with an earth-shaking rumble. The rider was whipped left and right, looking unnaturally fluid as he held on to the rope.
“How is his spine not in four pieces?” I shouted over the melee.
I shrieked and jumped back into Christian when the rider was flung off and landed in a tumble of limbs.
Christian didn’t even wobble. He just wrapped me up in his brawny arms and held me close.
My whole body was electric. It was like watching a horror movie—terrifying, but I couldn’t bear to look away.
The staging area filled up as it got closer and closer to Ray’s turn. Bree and Gracie sported evidence of funnel cake as they wiggled through to the front to watch.
Ray was the second to last rider of the night. With each change in the leaderboard, Bree did the calculation and updated us on what he needed to win.
“What’s my number, squirt?” Ray asked Bree over the partition as he smoothed down the medical tape on his wrist, slid on a glove, then taped it down again.
“Ninety-one point one.”
“How hard is that?” I whispered to Christian.
He grimaced, but tried not to show it. “Most scores land between eighty-five and ninety.”
Ray had been in the lead after the wildcard rounds, but the riders before him showed up to win.
I could hear Homewrecker stamping and kicking against the corral. He was already pissed. Ray zipped up the padded vest that protected his abdomen.
“Where’s your helmet, daredevil?” Nate shouted.
Ray grinned and adjusted his cowboy hat. “Helmets just mean you can have an open casket.” And with that, he put his mouthguard in and climbed down onto the back of the bull.
His team and the chute boss were clustered around him.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, clutching my hands to my chest.
Christian let out a sharp whistle and clapped over my head. “Let’s go, brother!”
Bree and Gracie were jumping up and down, screaming, “Go Uncle Ray!”
“He’s good, Cass,” Christian whispered, squeezing my shoulders. “Top of the circuit. He’s good.”
I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself.
The gate swung wide and Homewrecker paused. Was that supposed to happen?
Realizing there was a way out, the bull jolted and nearly threw Ray off on his way out into the arena. The animal spun like a tornado, slamming forward and back with each buck. The platform under our feet shook with the intensity of it all.
Ray fought to hold on. He whipped around, sometimes going with the direction of the bull, and sometimes countering it to keep his balance. Homewrecker jolted left, then stopped hard and whipped right.
My heart leaped into my throat.
The crowd went ballistic, and I looked at the timer.
Seven and a half seconds.
Screams and shouts grew deafening as it ticked closer to eight seconds.
A sudden change of direction caught Ray by surprise. Homewrecker stamped his hooves, soaring from front to back. Ray tilted the opposite direction to counter it, but the bull thrashed right again, flinging him off. Ray fell, but the bull was still going. A hoof collided with his stomach, mid-air.
Claire screamed as his head slammed into the dirt.
Men jumped into the ring to distract the bull and get him away.
My fingers trembled as I grabbed Christian’s hand. “Why isn’t he moving?”
All the other riders were quick to get up and jump the barrier to get out of the arena.
I squeezed his hand. “Christian?—”
Ray laid in the dirt. Lifeless.
Bodies flooded the arena. Marty, a team of medics, and support staff leaped to action.
I felt Christian jolt behind me.
My heart was racing. Blood rushed in my ears like a tidal wave. “Baby?—”
Realization slammed into Christian like a freight train, and he roared. “ Ray !”
“Go,” I said, letting go of him. “I’ve got the girls.”
Christian threw himself over the barrier. Nate and CJ were right on his tail as they ran across the dirt.
Bree and Gracie turned in a panic. Claire broke away from Becks to tend to them, but they were already clinging to me.