Insatiable

Chapter 14

Carina

Itap my foot to the thumping base. “What a great song.”

“It’s an old chart-topper, but it’s one of my favorites. Pop music isn’t at the top of my list, but the combined voices of a pop star and a country music star works for this song.”

“I agree. I’m just getting into country music myself.”

He turns to look at me with an arched brow and a grin. “And?”

“I don’t know much about the classics, but I don’t mind the more modern songs.” I rattle off the top song of my playlist.

His seductive grin grows into a full-on smile. “Great band.”

“I get your seal of approval?”

“You do, doll.” He winks. “I hope to help you discover some of the country oldies. Same goes for the new artists who are blazing a new path. There are lots of gems in country music these days.”

“I’m game.”

He winks again.

God, this guy has me all roped up. And to think, we’ve known each other for less than twenty-four hours.

I shift my focus to the amazing scenery.

If I stop staring at him, I won’t drool all over him.

“The sun is cutting deep into the western ridgeline. It’s going to be dark soon,” Rhett says, pointing over my shoulder.

“I love this time of the day.”

“Me too. There’s nothing quite like the dawn or dusk.”

“A ranch hand and a poet?”

“Ranch hand, poet, and incredible lover… it’s all in an honest day’s work.”

I burst out laughing. I so didn’t see that one coming.

“You’re funny,” I say.

“So, you’re liking our little field trip so far?”

“I am. Other than my drive to Fort Worth, this is the first time I’ve been able to break from my ranch-to-work routine since I arrived. I can’t believe how beautiful Summerville is.”

“I know I’m bias, but it’s the best place in the world,” Rhett says, his eyes never leaving the road.

After we left my place, we stopped by a big-box store to buy some coal for Jenkins’s portable barbecue, extra packs of ice for another cooler Rhett brought, and a few other things we might need for the evening.

Rhett marinated some steaks for our outing.

I took care of the chicken, veggies, potato salad, sandwiches, and an assortment of one-bite tarts. I even had time to prepare muffins and Danishes for breakfast.

Now, we’re cruising down the road to an undisclosed location.

Although it’s still hot outside, I’m grateful the air conditioning in the truck works. “Is your truck considered vintage?”

“Given her age, I guess she’s vintage. But don’t discount her. Emmylou might be a little old, but she’s still going strong.”

“Your truck has a name? And she’s a girl?”

He chuckles. “She does. And she is.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Should I be jealous?”

“No need for such high octave emotions.”

I shoot him an unconvinced side-gaze.

“Emmylou is like family. She has the original factory blue paint, and all. She’s a classic. Until she’s on her last legs, I’m never getting rid of her. Thanks to her, I’m taking you on our first date.” He winks.

I uncross my arms and place my hands on my lap. “I guess Emmylou is okay.”

He chuckles.

“Since moving out here, I’ve seen more sunsets in five weeks than I have my entire life,” I say, my eyes lost in the horizon.

“It gets better. A dark sky dotted with several thousands of bright shining stars is something else.”

“I don’t get to see those too often either.”

“We’ll have to change that,” he says with a firm nod.

I’ve been on some pretty fancy dates when I was living in New York and LA, but the idea of doing something as simple as gazing at stars alongside a hot guy is so freaking sexy. It’s like crossing off a must-do item on my small-town romance bucket list.

“Miranda told me you were a rodeo star.”

His head snaps in my direction. “She knows?”

“She mentioned it last night.”

“I’m not sure why I’m surprised. Hunter must’ve told her. I left that life behind me.”

“Not that I know anything about rodeos, but it sounds quite dangerous. Did you have to stop because of an injury?”

His nostrils flare and his fingers grip around the steering wheel.

I drop a hand against his arm. “I’m sorry—”

He places his left hand over mine. “Don’t be.”

“Maybe I asked the wrong question?”

He turns his head in my direction for a brief moment. Sadness flickers in his eyes.

“We don’t have to talk about this.” The words come tumbling out of my mouth.

“You did nothing wrong. It’s still hard for me to talk about it.”

“Oh, okay. I don’t want to rush you. I was interested in knowing more about your past.”

“And rightly so.” He removes his hat and tosses it in the backseat. “Yeah, I used to be big shit in the rodeo circuit. I was a bareback rider. It’s the only thing I wanted to do since I was a little boy.”

“What does bareback riding mean?”

“It means I was able to ride a horse without a saddle or rein. Bareback bronc riding involves only using a rigging that consists of leather and rawhide attached to a surcingle and placed just behind the horse’s withers. Think of the handle of a suitcase.”

“I see.”

“They don’t call it a sport for nothin’.

Being a rodeo rider isn’t chickenshit. I’ve endured lots of broken bones and bad injuries.

I’ve been thrown off a horse more times than I can count.

And I lost more competitions than I won, but I always dusted myself off, got up, saluted the crowd and knew I’d have another chance.

Another competition. That’s just the nature of the sport. ”

“Did it pay well? I mean, it sounds a bit dangerous.”

“The prize, when you come in first place, is worth it. The feeling of hoisting the winning check over your head, flashing big numbers—sometimes seven figures—for all the world to see, is surreal.”

“Wow.”

“I’ve made enough money in my career not to work for a long while, but I needed to keep my hands—and head—busy. I get both at my new job. After leaving the rodeo world, I lost my soul. Jenkins and April rescued me in many ways—”

“Rhett, you don’t have to keep going if it brings back bad memories.”

“I want you to know that part of my life.”

“Okay.” I’m dying to know as much about him as he’s willing to reveal.

“Like I said, rodeo life was my everything. I lived for those eight seconds on the back of a wild horse,” he says, his eyes boring into mine.

“The thrill. The rush. The adrenaline. The cheers. The adulation. It was like a drug. Man against an untamed animal… there’s nothing like it.

” He lets out a heavy sigh. “When I walked away six months ago… it had nothing to do with an injury.”

“What happened?”

He nods, more to himself than for my benefit. “Jenkins and I have been best friends since we were boys. He competes on the circuit, but he’s an amateur.”

“He wasn’t interested in becoming a pro like you?”

“Since the passing of his parents, his focus has been on raising April, so he pretty much stays in town.”

“I didn’t know that about April.”

“Jenkins stepped up as her guardian.”

“What an incredible big brother.”

“He is,” Rhett says.

“Sorry, I interrupted you.”

Rhett offers a warm smile. “Every day I woke up and stepped into my career. I traveled to different cities to make a name for myself. When I started on the circuit, I met this young guy, Dawson Fulton. He was as driven and as hungry as I was. We had similar backgrounds, so we immediately bonded like brothers. His thing was bull riding… and, by God, he mastered his craft. There wasn’t an angry bull that could scare him.

Don’t get me wrong. There were numerous accidents, but Dawson dusted himself off, got up, saluted the crowd, and knew he’d have another chance.

Another competition. Until one day, he didn’t get back up—” Rhett chokes.

I squeeze his thigh for comfort.

“It’s still so hard for me to talk about.”

“You don’t have to,” I say.

“It’s part of my life now. I need to make peace with it.” I’m not sure what he means, so I remain silent. Several beats later, he speaks. “A little over six months ago, he was riding Rage––”

“That doesn’t sound like a friendly name.”

“The name fits the bull. I was always hesitant around that beast and most guys were. Rage was a menacing motherfucker… and strong, too. There was a mean streak in him a mile wide. You could see it in his eyes. Well, the rest of us could. Dawson saw him as nothing more than a baby calf.”

I’m incredulous. “Rage? A baby calf?”

Rhett lets out a small chuckle, but his smile never reaches his eyes. “It wasn’t Dawson’s first time riding Rage. And he always came out a winner. As soon as the eight-second buzzer sounded, he’d hit the dirt, proud like a peacock. On that tragic day, Rage wasn’t going to keel.

“Oh, gosh.”

“After everything happened, a lot of the guys working in the background said when Dawson was waiting in the bucking chute, Rage was already out of control.”

“Couldn’t Dawson back out?”

“He figured it would be a great show for the crowd.” Rhett runs a hand through his hair.

“When it came to his turn, I don’t even know if he lasted three seconds.

Rage bucked his hind legs real hard, sending Dawson flying in the air.

We all expected him to get back up, but he didn’t…

” The brokenness in Rhett’s voice brings tears to my eyes.

“Dear God.” I grab his arm and give it a squeeze. It’s a feeble attempt at comforting him, but that’s all I have right now.

“Rage was already zeroed in on Dawson and was ready to charge towards him. I was watching from the sidelines, and jumped into the ring to get Dawson out of danger––”

“But the bull could’ve attacked you.”

“The bullfighters—they protect riders who get thrown from the bull, as well as provide comic relief between events—tried to stop me, but I ignored them. I had to save my friend.”

Such bravery.

He runs a hand through his hair and exhales a long breath.

“Thinking back… fuck, that was scary, but at the time, all that mattered, was saving my friend. I called for Rage’s attention.

Sure enough, he turned his anger towards me.

When a bull kicks dirt, it usually means the animal is about to charge. It’s like I was facing eminent death.”

“All that anger was directed at you?”

“God had mercy on me on that day. The crowd started making a ruckus, waving t-shirts, and hats over their heads, while hollering. I was no longer Rage’s target.

The diversion allowed a bunch of bullfighters to corner and rope the out-of-control animal into submission.

I ran to Dawson, followed by another group of bullfighters and the medics.

” He folds his lips between his teeth as if holding back his emotions. “It was… too late.”

My hands fly to my mouth in horror.

The pain in Rhett’s eyes takes my breath away.

“When I grabbed him in my arms, he was already dead.” His voice breaks again, a lonely tear rolling down his face. He wipes it away with the back of his hand. “I was devastated and heartbroken.” His jaw works. “After the medical examination, we found out the real cause of death.”

“It wasn’t because the crazy bull attacked him?”

Rhett shakes his head. “Turns out Rage didn’t kill him by stomping on him. Dawson broke his neck in the fall.”

“Oh, God.”

“For two months after Dawson’s passing, I tried to get on a horse to compete, but each time, I couldn’t. I’d break down into a sweat and I’d be crippled with severe anxiety attacks. Eventually, I stepped away because I was wasting everybody’s time.”

I don’t even know what to say.

For a few miles, we drive in silence, the weight of his confession hangs heavy around us.

I’m so in shock, I’m at a loss for words.

The air in the truck is still, and other than the tires grinding against the road, only our breathing fills the space.

I study Rhett’s profile with a heavy heart. I want to unbuckle my seat belt and take him in my arms, but I can’t.

Poor guy.

I’m sure you lose a part of your soul when you watch someone close to you die right in front of your eyes.

“Despite the fact you stepped away, I’m sure your parents must be so proud of you,” I say with a warm smile.

“My parents died in an accident on a stormy night when I was eleven. I was at a sleepover at Jenkins’ house, which spared my life.”

I bring a hand to my heart. “Oh, God, Rhett.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m an orphan and I don’t have any siblings. It was the same for Dawson—”

“What about your grandparents and aunts? Couldn’t they take you in?”

“Mom was abandoned at the door of a church by her mother a month after her birth. Dad was adopted right after his birth. He was from Texas. Mom was from Kansas. She bounced around in different foster homes her whole life until she came of age. She got the short end of the stick, aka, the crappy adoption system. Like Dawson. Dad was lucky enough to end up with a loving adoptive family, but his parents died a couple years apart. So, at twenty, he was an orphan again.”

This story is breaking my heart. “If your mom was from Kansas and your dad was born in Texas, how did they meet?”

“My parents met in Wyoming. Dad’s parents had moved there when Dad was seven. Mom ended up there because she was looking for a better life. I was born in Wyoming. My parents moved to Texas a couple years after my birth as things were booming up here.”

“Two orphans finding love. That’s beautiful.”

“It is. The fact they were orphans made them stronger. My parents were like oak trees—sturdy, reliable, and they adapted well to whatever life threw at them. I still find it hard to believe they’re gone.”

“Were you adopted when they passed away?”

“I was, which is why I’m an orphan twice over.”

I frown. “I don’t understand.”

“My adoptive ma died a couple years ago. It was sudden. Stupid drunk driver.” His nostrils flare. “I was so blessed to have her.”

Dear God.

“Ma, Jocelyn McClad, was fifty years old when she adopted me. I never met Pa—Osmond McClad. He passed away of a heart attack a year before Ma adopted me. Emmylou used to belong to Pa.” He purses his lips.

“As I neared my teen years, I was no longer the cute baby or toddler every childless parent was clamoring over. With each passing week, my undesirability grew. Ma was my teacher and knew my parents well. Her and Pa were never able to have a child of their own. Without her, I would’ve ended up bouncing from one foster home to another. Like Mom and Dawson.”

Bless that woman.

“Out of respect for my folks who were taken too soon, Ma never changed my last name. I’m still a Sullivan.”

He’s lucky he had his ma to watch over him.

What a poignant story.