Chapter Twenty-Seven
Royce
The dining hall is already noisy when I walk in, filled with the usual morning racket—forks scraping plates, chairs sliding across the floor, and some teenager being way too chipper and laughing too damn loud for this time of day.
I grab a plate and find Cabe, Micah, and Jovie already settled at one of the long tables.
I drop into the empty seat beside Cabe. “Morning.”
“Look who decided to show up,” Micah says. “Thought you might’ve slept in.”
“Thought about it,” I say.
I start digging into my plate while Cabe finishes off a stack of pancakes.
“We’re leaving in about twenty,” Cabe says. “Dad wants us at the corral by seven thirty.”
I nod. It’s not like I can complain. I’m the one who talked them all into starting the vaccinations this morning.
I glance at him. “Thanks for agreeing to start the process early, by the way.”
He shrugs. “Didn’t make any difference to me. I’m up at four every morning anyway,” he says. “Why the hell did you want to get up so early though?”
“Might as well get it over with,” I say.
Jovie snorts and gives me a look over the rim of her coffee mug.
Cabe looks at her. “What?”
Jovie sets her coffee down. “He wants to spend the afternoon with Marina,” she says matter-of-factly. “That’s the only reason I agreed to let him skip therapy this morning.”
Cabe’s eyebrows shoot up.
Micah starts laughing.
“Is that right?” Cabe says. “Finally grow the balls to shoot your shot?”
I point my fork at him. “Fuck you.” I swing it over to Micah. “Both of you.”
Micah leans back in his chair, grinning. “I can’t believe you’re letting him skip physical therapy for a woman, Jo.”
Jovie shrugs. “I’m a romantic nowadays.”
Cabe looks at her, and his face tightens before he can hide it. I clear my throat to draw attention to myself so no one else notices.
“I’m not skipping it. I’m moving it,” I say.
“After your date,” Micah quips.
I ignore him.
Cabe looks at me. “So, what are you two getting up to?”
“I’m taking Marina to look at a used truck in Moran.”
“A truck?”
“Yeah, a truck. She found it on some local auto market website. Wants me to have a look at it with her.”
Micah shakes his head. “Romance ain’t dead.”
Jovie laughs into her coffee.
“All right. You can make it up to me tonight,” Cabe says.
I raise a brow. “Make what up to you?”
“Rearranging my schedule for a non-date,” he says.
I sigh. This ought to be good.
“And how can I make up for your sacrifice, dear brother?”
“You can be the DD.”
I pause. “For what?”
“The Soused Cow. Tonight. They got a mechanical bull installed. They’re also broadcasting the Dinosaur Roundup Rodeo.”
That gets my attention.
Micah grins. “Whole town’s showing up to celebrate their favorite hometown Pbr champion.”
I knew Axle was riding in Utah this weekend.
“Who all’s going with us?”
Cabe grins because he knows he has me. “Me, Micah, Jovie, and Harleigh. Shelby and Waylon are meeting us there.”
I shake my head. “I’m in,” I say. “But you assholes owe me a DD night.”
Jovie swings her gaze to me. “You should ask Marina to come.”
I hesitate. “She has Ryder.”
“So?” Cabe says.
“So, it’s not exactly easy to drag a four-year-old to a bar.”
“Marina’s mother’s in town,” Jovie says. “She’s staying with them for a while. I bet she wouldn’t mind keeping her grandson for a few hours.”
Cabe’s eyebrows shoot up. “That woman is something else.”
“Right? Marina might come home to find Ryder with a tattoo and a mistress,” Micah quips.
I laugh.
I met her mother yesterday after Dad and I finished working on the barn. She is definitely a colorful character. I liked her a lot. What kid wouldn’t want a fun grandmother like her?
I glance down at my plate, considering it.
Marina. At The Soused Cow. Cutting loose and enjoying herself. Sounds like a damn good night.
“All right,” I say. “I’ll ask her.”
Cabe grins. “Good. The more, the merrier.”
My truck rumbles to a stop in front of Marina’s cabin. I park by her steps, and before I turn off the engine, the front door swings open, and Marina steps onto the porch.
Then Ryder comes barreling out around her legs like he was shot out of a cannon. “Royce!”
I grin as I climb out. “Hey, little man.”
Ryder tears across the porch and down the steps, but I’m already heading around to the bed of the truck. I reach over the tailgate and grab the surprise I picked up for him.
The second Ryder sees it, he stops dead, and his eyes go huge. “No way!”
I haul the big, inflatable bull out of the truck. It’s nearly as wide as I am. With a round black rubber body, it has a goofy-looking bull’s head on top, small curved horns, a tan snout, and a cream-colored strap running over its back like a miniature bucking bull.
“It’s a bull!” Ryder shouts.
“I figured you needed something to practice on.”
His mouth drops open when I set the inflatable bull on the porch, and he doesn’t wait for an invitation.
He launches himself onto it. The bull immediately rolls sideways beneath him, and Ryder goes flying, landing on his backside with a startled grunt.
For half a second, he looks at the thing, offended. Then he starts giggling.
Marina reaches for him. “You okay?”
“I’m okay!” He scrambles back to his feet. “I’m gonna do it again.”
I bite back a laugh. “That’s the spirit.”
He climbs back on, this time gripping the strap with both hands. The bull wobbles beneath him, and he squeals with delight.
“Grab the rope underhanded. And raise your other arm in the air when you’re ready,” I say.
His tongue sticks out in concentration as he does as I said.
“That’s it, little man. Just sit tight. Get your balance.”
I’m still calling instructions from the ground when I hear the screen door creak.
Marina’s mother, Ginger, appears in the doorway, holding a steaming cup of coffee.
Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy twist, and she’s wearing one of those patchwork quilt dresses that drops all the way to her feet. Bell sleeves hang loosely around her arms, and a vintage Western chain belt circles her waist.
She takes one sip of her coffee and looks at the bull. Then at Marina. Then at me.
“Huh.” That’s all she says.
Ryder is still bouncing on the inflatable bull when something else catches my attention.
“Wait.” I turn and head back toward my truck.
Marina watches me curiously. “What are you doing?”
“Forgot something.” I reach into the cab and pull out the hat.
It’s an old straw Stetson River Run, the crown softened from years of wear, the brim broken in in just the right places. It’s seen more miles and rodeos than I can remember. The straw has that faded, lived-in color.
I walk back toward the porch and walk up the steps to Ryder.
“Come here,” I say.
He hops off the bull and runs over. I crouch down and settle the hat on his head. It practically swallows him.
Ryder looks up at me, beaming.
“A cowboy needs a straw hat in the summer,” I tell him. “Too damn hot for that felt one you’ve been wearing.”
He reaches up and touches the brim.
“You like it?”
He nods enthusiastically.
“You can put the other one up until fall. When it cools off, you can switch ’em out.”
Behind him, Marina and Ginger exchange a look before Marina clears her throat.
“Royce, we can’t accept all this stuff.”
“I told you I was gonna bring the bull by. He can return it once he’s outgrown it.”
She gives me a look.
I point at the hat. “And that’s one of my old hats. I’m not allowed to wear it anymore anyway because of Axle’s affiliation with Outlaw Heritage.”
She blinks. “Why not?”
I shrug. “Company rules. Axle’s not allowed to be seen wearing anything but their brand. And apparently, I’m not either by association.”
Marina glances at the hat, then back at me.
“It’s a good hat,” I say. “Shame to let it go to waste.”
Ryder is grinning so hard that I’m pretty sure his cheeks hurt.
Ginger takes another sip of coffee. “Well,” she says, “looks like we’ve got ourselves a genuine cowboy.”
Ryder puffs out his little chest. “Yep.”
I grin.
Ginger looks at Marina. “You have a good time, baby girl.”
Marina gives her a look. “I’m just going to look at an old truck.”
Ginger’s eyes shift to me. “Of course you are.” She takes another slow sip of coffee, studying me over the rim of her cup. “I guess it’s up to you to turn a boring errand into a good time, stud.”
I laugh.
Marina groans.
Ginger doesn’t even crack a smile.
I like her.
She’s blunt without ever seeming like she’s trying to be.
Marina’s more like her than she realizes.