Chapter Ten
Royce
The office at the rodeo academy is barely big enough for the six of us when we’re all in here at once, and right now, it looks like a tornado came through the place.
Suit jackets rest on the backs of chairs.
Flannels are slung over the old leather couch.
The scent of cologne hangs in the air. A pair of cowboy boots sits underneath Bryce’s desk.
His father, Chord, paces while Cabe adjusts his belt buckle in front of the full-length mirror—an antique pedestal number that Grandma Evelyn had someone bring in here this morning.
I’m wrestling with the cuff of my shirt when Bryce steps out of the little bathroom attached to the office.
“Somebody tell me if this looks right.”
I glance over my shoulder.
He stands there in his white dress shirt and black vest, the shirt tucked neatly into a pair of dark jeans. His boots are polished, his hair is combed back, and his expression is the same one he’s worn all morning.
Nervous.
Axle looks up from where he’s sitting on the edge of the desk. “You look like a groom to me.”
Bryce frowns. “I’m talking about the bow tie.” His eyes look to me. “Royce?”
I look up from the credenza behind the desk that Ax and I turned into a makeshift bar, loaded down with bottles of whiskey. “It’s crooked.”
“Fuck. I thought so. I’ve retied the damn thing three times.” He turns back toward the mirror and reaches for his collar.
Albert chuckles from his seat on the couch. He sets his glass aside and stands. “Let me help you with that.”
Bryce turns to his soon-to-be father-in-law and lowers his hands. “I’ve been struggling with the damn thing for fifteen minutes. Why the hell couldn’t we just wear normal ties?”
“And by normal, he means clip-on,” Chord says.
“Exactly.”
“Because it’s Charli,” Cabe says. “Matty didn’t even make us wear ties.”
Matty married her husband, Caison, in the front yard of the farmhouse.
She wore her late mother, Miriam’s, wedding dress and carried a bouquet of wildflowers, and her sisters were in lavender sundresses.
Caison wore black jeans and a black dress shirt with pearl snaps, with the rest of us guys dressed the same.
It was simple—a handful of the people she loved stood around the two of them, and after, a cake baked by Imma Jean, along with champagne, was served on the front porch.
But Charli went all out. A gown handmade by a designer from Dallas.
A guest list that includes the whole damn town.
And catering from one of her favorite restaurants in Jackson Hole.
A party planning company has been working for days, transforming the academy’s indoor arena and event barn into an elegant cowgirl wedding dream.
And Bryce even had country music star Garrett Tuttle and his band flown in for the reception.
He said something about him playing at the hotel in Oklahoma where he had first realized he was falling in love with Charli.
Romantic sap.
“He can ride the rankest bull, but he’s losing a fight with a piece of fabric,” I tease.
Axle laughs.
Bryce throws his middle finger up at the both of us as Albert nimbly loops the tie around his collar, straightens the silk, and starts working the knot.
“Hard to believe,” Albert mutters.
“What?” Bryce asks.
“Another of my baby girls is getting married.”
Bryce smiles at him through the mirror.
“I know.” Chord sniffles from across the room.
Bryce turns his head. “Really, Dad?”
Chord snorts. “What? I’m allowed to be emotional today too. You’re my kid.”
“Geezus, please tell me we aren’t gonna start crying like a bunch of damn women. We don’t have enough whiskey for that,” I say as I pull the cork from one of the bottles with my teeth.
Bryce laughs, and the sound loosens something in my chest.
We’ve been through a hell of a lot together. Injuries. Wins. Losses. Bad decisions. Worse ones. The kind of years that makes a man appreciate the people who stick around when things aren’t easy.
Albert finishes the knot and tugs it into place. “There you go, son,” he says, his voice cracking on the last word.
Bryce studies himself. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Axle pushes off the desk and comes around to help me pass out the glasses I’ve filled with two fingers of amber liquid.
“So, don’t let us drink too much tonight,” he says as he hands a glass to Bryce. “Royce and I have to roll out for Reno first thing in the morning.”
“Rodeo?” Albert asks.
“Yep. At the Reno-Sparks Livestock Events Center. It’s a ten-day rodeo, put on by the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association.”
Bryce glances at me, and I clear my throat.
“About that, Ax,” I say. “I think I’m gonna stick around here.”
Axle’s eyebrows lift. “You’re what?”
I down the whiskey and set my glass on the desk and roll my shoulder carefully.
It still aches like a son of a bitch, reminding me that my body isn’t quite ready to be thrown around again. Not yet.
“Shoulder needs the rest,” I say. “And Bryce needs the help.”
Bryce nods slowly. “That’s true.”
The academy has become something none of us expected.
Last summer, the place was packed. Every stall was occupied.
Every bunk had somebody sleeping in it. Teenagers showed up with rodeo dreams bigger than their experience, and we all somehow managed to turn a chaotic collection of kids, animals, coaches, and staff into something resembling an honest-to-God rodeo program.
This year is going to be worse.
Or better.
Depending on who you ask.
Axle adjusts his vest. “Well, shit. I wish I could stay. I had a blast last year.”
I look at him and grin. “We all know how much of a blast you had,” I quip and instantly regret the words when my eyes land on Cabe.
Fuck. Too soon.
It was last summer while working at the academy when Axle fell head over heels for Jovie. The girl our little brother had been in love with since childhood. And although they’ve made strides, Axle and Cabe’s relationship is still on shaky ground.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
Cabe rolls his eyes.
Axle glares at me as he continues, “Manager wants me at all big PRCA events leading up to the NFR in Vegas.”
The National Finals Rodeo is considered the premier PRCA event of the year. It’s held in Vegas every December. To any traditional rodeo athlete, its gold buckles and world championship titles are coveted, but to bull riders, it comes in second to the Pbr Finals.
Bryce shakes his head. “Of course they do. The NFR is the Super Bowl of rodeos to sponsors. Their champ needs to have his face out there this summer.”
“I’ll fly home between appearances,” Axle says.
“Every time?” I ask.
“Every time I can. What else am I gonna do on the road without your annoying ass?”
“Ah, you gonna miss me, brother?” I say, laying my hand over my heart.
Cabe snorts. “Jovie agreed to work in the academy’s clinic while Dr. Seth is gone,” he says.
Axle nods. “Dr. Seth wants to stay home with his wife and the new baby for a couple of months. Can’t blame him.”
“No,” Bryce agrees.
I glance at Axle. “Should have known you wouldn’t be coming back for me,” I say, pretending to be offended.
“Whatever,” Ax says. “I’ll see you, too, and I’ll be able to jump in and help with lessons. Don’t want the poor kids learning bad habits from you.”
Bryce looks between us and smiles. “I appreciate both of you.”
Axle waves him off. “I mean it. Last summer was already crazy. This year …”
He shakes his head. “Word got out.”
It’s true. The academy has become a name people recognize. It was on everyone’s lips on the circuit this year. Parents asking for information and coaches recommending it to their clients.
Rodeo families talk. Kids who want to make the circuit decided this is where they need to be.
Bryce grabs his jacket. “We’re going to have more than double the students we had last summer.”
Axle whistles. “Double?”
“More than double.” I stare at him. “That’s going to be insane.”
“Yep.”
“Sounds like that shoulder of yours isn’t going to get much rest after all,” Cabe says.
“I’m adding to our full-time staff,” Bryce says.
Axle raises an eyebrow. “Who?”
“I’ve got a few prospects in mind.”
“Anyone we know?” I ask.
Bryce smiles. “Maybe. A few are retired from the circuit.”
“You wanna share?”
He shakes his head. “I said prospects. I’ll iron out the details after the honeymoon, and you guys will be the first to know.”
“I thought you were going to Hawaii after Christmas,” I say.
“That’s the real honeymoon. Academy closes for two weeks after Christmas, so we’ll have more time, but we’re going to The Belicourt tonight and staying through the weekend. It’s a gift from Porter and Harleigh.”
Axle lets out a low whistle.
“What’s The Belicourt?” Chord asks.
“Luxury resort. About an hour up into the Tetons,” Albert answers. “Harleigh’s boyfriend, Porter’s, family owns it.”
Porter Garrison comes from old money, the likes of which most of us will never see in ten lifetimes.
The Belicourt sits high in the Tetons, tucked away from everything. Beautiful views. Snowcapped peaks. Fancy ski lodge.
“Sounds like a nice mini moon,” Chord says.
Bryce’s smile grows. “A private cottage. Gourmet meals in the cottage. Champagne. In-room couples massages.”
Axle puts both hands up. “We don’t need to hear anything else.”
Bryce laughs, and I glance over to see his hand shake slightly as he adjusts his cuffs.
“Nervous?”
He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Not one damn bit.”
I laugh as I nod to his hand that is still vibrating. He flexes it.
“Nah, just excited,” he says. “I can’t wait to put that ring on Charli’s finger.”
He smiles to himself, and I watch my friend standing there in his wedding clothes, completely certain about the woman waiting for him.
He’s a lucky man.
There’s a soft knock at the door, and Grandpa Earl steps inside.
“I’ve been sent to make sure the groom hasn’t gotten cold feet,” he says.
“Toes are nice and toasty,” Bryce assures him.
“Good, because it’s go time.”
Bryce grabs his new black Outlaw Heritage hat and places it on his head.
The rest of us follow suit, and I clap him on the shoulder and grin.
“Come on. Let’s go get you hitched.”
His smile is immediate. “Hell yeah.”