22. Sorrel #2
Johnnie Walker Blue is Dad’s favorite scotch.
It’s expensive so he only ever drinks it on special occasions.
I grab us two red Solo cups and twist the top off the bottle, pouring the brown liquor into our cups.
Dad will make us both shovel horse shit with a fork for weeks if he catches us, especially for drinking it out of plastic cups.
We both giggle like schoolgirls as I hurry up and put the bottle back.
It feels like we're in high school all over again.
Except in high school, we knew better and went for the cheap vodka, replacing it with water.
We were grounded for a month when Dad poured one of his buddies' wives a drink and she said it didn't taste like it had any liquor in it.
“Boots up, whiskey down!” we say as we cheers.
We make our way back outside and head toward the fire.
The bonfire is roaring now, bright orange and red pieces of ash fluttering down landing in our hair.
Everyone is huddled around talking and sipping on their drinks while Denton and “his band” get ready to perform.
His band for tonight is just him and one of the ranch hands named Walker who plays guitar and can hum a little tune.
Everyone gathers around the stage now. Sofia right up front and Crease at her heels. The rest of her family stay seated by the fire facing their chairs to the stage. They aren’t used to the cool bite of Montana summer nights. Summer is almost over and temperatures are dropping as fast as the flies.
Denton and Walker begin to play. A look of confusion spreads across my face—trying to recognize the song. It must be a new one and it seems like Walker is familiar with it.
Denton sings about a fierce cowgirl with demons in her mind, and she struggles to overcome her grief. I know he wrote the song about me. I turn away as tears begin to well in my eyes, wiping them away before anyone notices. But Charli already does.
“It’s beautiful,” she says.
I nod, tears now streaming down my face. God, I’m getting tired of crying all the damn time. But these aren't sad tears, not really.
Charli gives me a hug. “I can’t believe my best friend is gonna marry a famous country music singer. That is so fucking rad.”
I almost puke up the scotch when she mentions marriage.
“We are not getting married, Charli. That’s not even funny.”
“No, it’s not funny. It’s fucking romantic.”
Rolling my eyes at her and not giving this conversation another minute, I go to get another drink. One seltzer, two beers, and three shots later, it hits me.
Everyone is singing and dancing now and I’m sitting here drunk by myself while my boy—no, not my boyfriend, my friend—continues to perform for everyone.
I look around me and see how happy everyone is.
Sutton and Ryder are dancing with Trotter.
He’s shaking his little booty and his big ol’ cowboy hat flops all over his head.
Damn I’m going to miss this. It makes me realize what I’m missing out on even when I’m gone rodeoing.
No, not every night is like this but a lot of them are.
Lost in my thoughts, I look up to see Charli surrounded by three of the younger ranch hands. I stumble over to them to try and save her but trip on some loose gravel. Just as I start to fall, two lean muscular arms catch me.
“Are you my knight in shining armor?” I say, looking up to see Denton’s intense eyes staring back at me. “You are!” I giggle and hiccup, reaching for the scruff on his face. It feels good underneath my hand and I wonder what it would feel like in other places.
“I think you better get little miss rodeo queen to bed now,” Charli says to Denton.
“Yeah, I think you're right,” he says, looking at me, probably wondering how I got to be such a drunken mess.
“Hey, I’m not a rodeo queen. I'm a damn barrel racer!” I spit out.
The ranch hands are all laughing at me now. It sobers me up a little bit. I don’t want word getting back to Dad that they saw me like this.
I grab Denton’s hand and drag him toward my cabin. “Let’s go.”
Before we leave, he turns to Charli. “You gonna be okay with them alone, Charli?”
The ranch hands turn their rough faces to Denton giving him a dirty look.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking. I’ll just sleep in my old room at Clint's. You’ll take care of her, right?”
“Of course. I've got her, Charli.”
“Awwww, I love you guys”—hiccup—“you’re my best friends.” I spread my arms wide and pull them in for a group hug.
Denton swoops me into his arms and carries me to the cabin.
“Wait. Put me down before we go through the door.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not carrying me over a threshold until we get married. It’s bad luck.”
“Oh, is that right?” he asks with a smirk. “And when are we getting married?”
“Who knows?” I say with a drunken sigh.
When we get into the cabin, I stand by the front door, holding on to the frame while Denton pulls off my boots for me.
I walk to the bedroom and strip out of my clothes as I go.
I watch Denton follow the trail of clothing I left on the floor to the bed.
I lay here waiting for him in just my bra and panties.
“Sorrel, I love you and you look sexy as hell right now, but you’re drunk as a damn skunk. We’re going to bed.”
I look at him and frown, tracing circles with my fingertips on the mattress. I watch him get out of his clothes and admire every muscle and flex of his body. He’s a fucking masterpiece.
My eyelids begin to get heavy and the room starts to spin. Mixing alcohol will do that to a girl. I wait for the spinning to stop and feel him crawl in under the covers next to me. He covers me up and kisses the top of my forehead before we both drift into a restless and needy sleep.