Chapter 19 - Tessa
I don't think I have ever been so nervous to work a rodeo before in my life.
I love it! The energy, the knowledge that no matter what kind of night it is, it will be full of excitement.
The pace can be insane, but then it's over quickly, and you get to hang out with so many different types of people.
Rodeos bring about people from all walks of life, and it feels like a living, breathing thing.
But this will be the first time I have people, someone, waiting for me.
Waking up next to Nate was a whole other thing.
The stupid jerk looked even better sleeping.
His face didn't hold the strain and worry I know he carries.
The early morning light softened his chiselled features, his sharp jaw and nose that had probably been broken a time or two.
His hair was a mess that I wanted to sink my fingers into.
I chanced a look at the clock, not wanting to move yet, and gave myself five more minutes to stare at Nate and try to come to some decision when it comes to him.
I still don't think I know exactly who he is, but maybe that was because he didn't either.
The Nate I first met, the Nate that the media portrayed, he didn't do anything for me.
I had had enough of people chasing the unattainable.
That thing they had to reach for to make their life perfect, to make it worth it.
But was that Nate? Or was he the farmer's son who was hard working, caring, funny, and misunderstood?
Last night in his arms, it all seemed so simple. Just give him a chance. See where this goes. But something feels different about Nate. Like I'm standing on the edge of something, I can either dive in or walk away. I don't think there will be halfway with him.
My head was telling me to guard my heart, and my heart was telling me to dive the fuck in.
I wanted to spend the whole day in bed with him, getting to know all parts of Nate, the person beneath the Captain persona. But that would not be today. Today I volunteered my morning at a small animal shelter, then had to get ready for work.
I tried to escape quietly when I heard a groan, "Where are you going? Come back."
Holy shit, Nate's morning voice is hot.
I continued to pull myself out of bed when strong arms wrapped carefully around my middle and pulled me back into bed. I chuckled and pleaded, "Nate, I have to go; you have to release me." Even though everything in me was on board with his plan.
I felt hot breath on the back of my neck. "They make you start this early for the rodeo?"
"No, that's not till later. I volunteer at some shelters when I have time. This morning it's to do shots and deworming."
"What if I donate money instead?"
I scoff and then gingerly wiggle away, "Money can't solve everything, Nate."
I made the mistake of facing him once I was standing. His blue eyes were lighter in the soft light, and he had a youthfulness to him that I had yet to see. "It can't solve everything... but can it get you back in this bed with me?"
I shook my head and made my way to my room to change. "Feel free to stay, Nate. I have to get ready."
When I came back out fifteen minutes later, Nate was standing barefoot in my kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hand and a travel mug on the island in front of him.
A thought crossed my mind; I could get used to this. And I knew I was in trouble.
The day passed in a blur, leaving me standing here with Dr. King, pretending to check our supplies while I wondered when Nate would get here.
I got my answer when the crowd’s roar hit like a living thing, pulsing through the metal gates and bleachers.
Even after all these years, rodeo noise still gave me goosebumps.
The crack of the chute, the smell of dust and hay, the clang of a gate, it was chaos wrapped in adrenaline.
But this time, the noise wasn’t for the bull rider or barrel racer. It was for them.
For him.
The Summit City Kodiaks had arrived like some celebrity parade in denim and baseball caps, smiling that easy, public smile they wore when cameras were out.
McKenna led the way, signing programs, while Colby posed with a group of teenage girls who were already posting to social media.
Marcus shook hands with one of the local dads near the rail.
And then there was Nate, tall, quiet, head ducked, but still impossible to miss.
He had that kind of presence that drew attention even when he wasn’t trying to.
He laughed at something Lukas said, and when he turned his head, his eyes found me.
Right through the tangle of horses, handlers, and dust.
My breath caught. He didn’t call out or wave like the others. He just… looked. A slow curve tugged at his mouth, the smallest of winks, private and reckless all at once.
Before I could roll my eyes or pretend, I hadn’t seen it, the damn Jumbotron caught him mid-wink and then panned, searching until it landed on me.
Dr. King muttered, “Well, you’re famous now,” while the announcer boomed something about “our local hero, the Cowgirl Angel.”
The crowd whooped as my cheeks burned.
I forced my focus back to work, checking a horse’s leg wrap, pretending my heart wasn’t punching against my ribs. “That’s enough, Dusty,” I murmured to the gelding, smoothing his mane like the animal could steady me.
For the next couple of hours, I stayed on the move. There were calves to check, horses to soothe, riders to calm. That was the thing about rodeos: the pace didn’t leave room for nerves. You either moved with the rhythm, or you got trampled by it.
Still, every time I crossed the main stretch behind the chutes, I could feel him. That impossible awareness that prickled along my skin. Nate Carson, somewhere in the stands, eyes following me, I knew it.
Dr. King was in his element, barking out orders with the authority of someone who’d been doing this for thirty years.
“Collar looks tight, Tess. Loosen it. And watch that one, he’s favouring his back leg.”
“Yes, sir.”
My voice was steady, my hands sure, even if the rest of me wasn’t.
Between events, I’d catch flashes of navy and gray, the Kodiaks scattered along the fence, talking to kids, signing hats, taking pictures with dads who were just as starstruck as their children.
McKenna was laughing, holding a cowboy hat someone had handed him, while Marcus and Erik leaned on the rail, talking with one of their teammates.
And Nate, freaking Nate, looked like he belonged here. Jeans and boots, his Kodiaks cap turned backward, posture loose but watchful. When the bull riders came out, he was at the edge of the stands, leaning forward like muscle memory. Like he could feel the pull of competition, even here.
At one point, when I ducked out of the chute to grab another med kit, I caught sight of him again. He was laughing, head back, mouth open, unguarded. And damn it if my heart didn’t skip a beat.
“Hey, Tessa,” Dr. King called, breaking my trance. “You planning to stare holes in the captain or help me wrap this leg?”
I choked on a laugh, cheeks heating. “Both?”
He gave me a look that said, be careful.
By the time the sun began to sink, painting everything in gold and rose, my shirt clung to my back with sweat. Dust coated my boots. My muscles ached in that deeply satisfying way only a long, good day can give you. And still, I felt electric.
Alive.
When the final bull rider was up, I found a clear view of the ring.
The crowd was chanting, stomping, hollering, and I knew he’d be watching this, too.
The rider burst out of the chute, the bull twisting like fury given shape, and the whole world held its breath.
Eight seconds, and then chaos, a perfect dismount, cheers echoing through the air.
I looked toward the stands, instinctively, and there he was.
Arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes on me again and this time, he didn’t look away.
The whole place pulsed with noise, but I swear I couldn’t hear any of it. Not the music, not the announcer, not even Dr. King’s low whistle beside me. Just the sound of my own heartbeat, and the quiet certainty that this thing between Nate and me was no longer something I could outwork or ignore.
By the time I am all cleaned up, the night hums like a live wire.
You can feel it in your chest, the mix of dust and laughter, country music rolling through the fairgrounds like it’s stitched into the air itself.
The arena lights are still burning, the stands mostly empty now, and the afterparty has spilled everywhere, around food trucks, the beer tent, the rows of pickups lined up like old friends.
I’m mainly running on adrenaline and caffeine. My hair’s a mess, my jeans are stained, and my muscles are screaming from the long day. But it’s the good kind of tired, the one that comes from doing something you love.
My mind is racing with what this night could hold. Because now the show’s over, the stars are out, and the music’s switched from loud and rowdy to that slow, smoky kind that drags couples together. Everyone smells like dust, leather, and beer.
The guys from the team blend in surprisingly well, shaking hands, taking pictures, and signing hats.
McKenna’s with a group of kids who are trying to teach him how to throw a rope, and Erik’s somehow holding court with half the rodeo queens.
Marcus is laughing near the beer tent with Lukas and a few guys I don't recognize.
And Nate...
He’s at the edge of the makeshift dance floor, hat pushed back just enough that the light hits his jaw, and the shadow of a smile curves his mouth. His eyes find me before I can look away.
And that’s it.
Whatever rational thought I was holding on to slips through my fingers.
He starts walking, easy and sure, like he’s known the whole time that I’d end up right here with him. My heart trips over itself, and I curse quietly because there’s no way to hide what’s happening on my face.
When he stops in front of me, the air shifts.
“You look like trouble,” he says, voice low, teasing, like we’re the only two people in this whole place.
“Funny,” I say, smiling up at him, “I was about to say the same about you.”
He grins, that slow, wreck-you-from-the-inside grin. “Dance with me, Red.”
“I’m still technically working,” I manage.
He glances toward Dr. King, who’s deep in conversation with one of the ranchers. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s keeping score.”
I should say no. I should think about what people will say, the cameras, the whispers, the fact that the Captain of the Summit City Kodiaks looks at me like I hung the stars. But instead, I take his hand.
It’s warm, calloused, familiar in a way that shouldn’t make sense but does.
He pulls me close, one arm circling my waist, the other holding my hand like something he’s not planning to let go of.
The song is slow, something about forever, mistakes and second chances.
I can feel the heat coming off him, the steady rhythm of his breathing against my chest.
“Careful,” I whisper, “people are watching.”
He leans down until his lips are at my ear. “Let them.”
A shiver runs through me so abrupt it almost hurts. He smells like spice, sweat, and the faintest hint of soap that reminds me of my childhood.
Around us, the fairground spins, laughter, clinking bottles, the smell of grilled corn and summer. He moves like he knows my body already, like we’ve done this a hundred times before. My fingers find the back of his neck, and he exhales, the sound rough and too honest.
I tilt my head up to look at him, and that’s when it happens, that slight pause where the rest of the world just… fades. His gaze dips to my mouth, and I forget how to breathe. Then he dips me. The move is effortless, confident, like he’s daring me not to trust him.
The crowd cheers, whoops somewhere in the background, but all I can focus on is his eyes when he brings me back up. He’s smiling, and before I can think, he’s kissing me.
Hard.
It’s not sweet or tentative. It’s everything we’ve both been holding back since that first day at the farm: heat, frustration, relief. His mouth moves against mine like he’s starving for it.
Someone hoots nearby, “That’s our Captain!” and the crowd joins in, but I don’t care.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. His breath fans across my lips, shaky and uneven.
“Jesus, Tessa,” he murmurs, voice low enough for me alone. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
I swallow, my pulse racing. “Pretty sure that’s a two-way street, Nate.”
His smile is wrecked, wild, and completely unguarded.
For once, I stop overthinking. I stop worrying about what happens next, about who’s watching, about whether this will end in disaster.
For tonight, I let myself have this.
The boy from the farm, the man from the headlines, the storm I didn’t see coming.
For tonight, I let myself fall.