Chapter 4 Hestia #2
‘Shit, oh God, no,’ Lottie yelled, both of us springing up as Dunkin lost her balance, her leg striking the heavy barrel hard.
She half went down, struggling bravely to stay upright as Bailey vaulted off in the next moment, her hat flying into the dirt.
Officials began running in as Dunkin limped away in distress, eventually slowing as Bailey ran after her, calling her name.
‘Oh fuck,’ Lottie whispered, her hand over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.
‘She’s going to be devastated. Right before qualifying, too . . . and poor Dunkin . . .’
‘It’s okay, they’ll be okay,’ I offered, putting my arm round her shoulders, a huge jolt of relief at seeing both Jesse and Cole among the cowboys striding into the arena to help.
But, as we watched Jesse supporting Bailey while she led Dunkin out, we both knew my words were hollow.
There was no way Dunkin was going to be barrel racing again any time soon.
My solution was tried and tested.
‘Shots, right now,’ I ordered, Bailey tucked under my arm, grim stoicism setting her features.
‘There’s fuck all you can do about it tonight, I heard the vet say that.
Dunkin’s patched up and comfortable, right?
She’s had more ketamine than half of East London on an average Saturday night, so I’d say she’s having the best time out of all of us.
Let’s get wasted and forget about it for now, okay? ’
‘Can’t argue with logic like that,’ Jesse interjected as he joined our group at a table near the stage.
Shelby’s was exactly what I’d imagined a bar in Wyoming might look like – a ton of dark wood, from the floors to the chairs, wall-mounted wagon wheels and old painted signs.
The walls behind the bar were jam-packed with framed pictures of bands and artists who had played over what looked like a history spanning decades. ‘To Dunkin’s recovery,’ he toasted.
All five of us tipped back the small glasses, Lottie groaning as she tasted the contents.
‘I fucking hate tequila,’ she grimaced.
‘Since when?’ I asked, reaching out for Bailey’s beer and passing it to her, rubbing her shoulder.
Jesse watched us, open curiosity in his stare.
‘Since Kyle,’ Lottie murmured, prompting what was almost a growl from Cole, his arm moving from the back of her chair to her shoulders.
‘Prick,’ he hissed.
‘Bang on,’ I nodded, noticing the guy from the rodeo near the bar, seemingly telling one hell of a joke as the others fell around laughing. ‘Kyle is a grade-A wanker. Still, at least you got an upgrade out of it.’
I winked at Lottie and returned Cole’s smile.
‘And somehow you’ve managed not to say I told you so,’ Lottie noted, looking up at me from under her eyelashes, even making Bailey chuckle. ‘Hes knew that Kyle wasn’t good for me from day one . . . but I wasn’t really up for listening.’
‘There’s still time,’ I countered, giving her a wink, pausing as Jesse smiled at me before sipping his drink. ‘Shame I don’t have the same radar for myself.’
Lottie shrugged.
‘Cal’s not so bad, though, just . . . a mess.’
It was my turn to shrug as I glanced at Bailey. She was all but folded in on herself, clearly resting the blame for what had happened squarely on her shoulders.
‘Bailey, honey!’ a voice called from nearby. A group of women, including Darcy, beckoned her over.
‘Anyone I need on my radar over there?’ I said to her, gratified as a shy smile bloomed. ‘You just give the signal if you need me. Or if you need more shots.’
‘Thanks, darlin’, I will,’ she said, getting up and slouching over to them to be enveloped in a many-armed hug.
Jesse studied me as I watched the group. Bailey was nodding self-consciously at their attempts to console her, managing the occasional smile.
‘You’re a real ol’ mama bear, huh?’ he said softly, angling his chair towards me as Lottie and Cole leant into each other, deep in conversation.
I shook my head, not quite meeting his eye.
‘I hate seeing good people beating themselves up.’ I looked back over at the bar area. The guy from the rodeo, Carter, returned the glance, touching the brim of his hat. ‘Anyone in pain, actually. Mental or physical.’
‘Ever think about the medical profession?’ he asked, leaning forward, chin in his hand, his depthless grey eyes flickering over my face.
‘Did psychology at university,’ I said, suddenly wary at his serious expression, the depth of his interest in my answers. ‘Turns out, being fucked up yourself isn’t a qualification for helping others in the same boat.’
He kept his expression neutral, but his eyes darkened for a moment. There was a level of understanding there, beneath the banter. Unnerved by him yet again, I picked up the last spare shot and downed it.
Shifting gears, his expression softened and a mischievous smile grew. ‘So, seeing as you know exactly what I’m thinking, given your degree and all, I reckon it’s only fair I get to know you a little.’
He gestured towards the bar, catching a bartender’s attention and nodding, setting up a fresh rack of shots. I paused, knowing exactly what he was up to, but simultaneously not wanting to back down from the challenge.
‘You don’t have to get me drunk to get in my –’ I began, stopping as he chuckled, nodding to Cole and Lottie, now getting up to go dance.
‘Highly recommend the corridor behind the bar,’ Lottie called, waving with a coy smile as Cole led her away.
‘Honey, I am mighty fond of how good you are to go at any moment,’ Jesse replied, thanking the bartender as eight shots arrived. ‘But I still don’t know much about you. And I want to. So – here’s the game. I guess something about you, and if I’m right, you drink. If I’m wrong, I drink.’
I knew full well this had all the hallmarks of an extremely stupid decision, and yet . . .
‘Do your worst, cowboy.’
Leaning in, I took off my hat and shook out my hair, running my fingers through it. He stilled for a moment, eyes darting across my face, then down to the denim dress and my bare legs below.
He cleared his throat and sat back in the chair, folding his arms as he studied me through narrowed eyes.
It was impossible not to stare at the way the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt strained against rock-hard biceps, two buttons open at his throat revealing the beginnings of his tanned torso .
. . how it felt to be pressed against it, those arms flexed as they held me up . . .
‘When it comes to men, you don’t have a specific type,’ he began, watching my expression carefully. ‘But you do like bigger guys. Maybe ones that don’t work out in a gym, but ones that can pick you up just as easy as that glass right there.’
I rolled my eyes, picking up the shot and knocking it back.
It was a fireball, the cinnamon burning a path right down to my core. God. We were going to be fucked.
‘Congrats, Sherlock,’ I drawled, forcing myself not to smile as he did. ‘Except you missed a bit. Men . . . or women.’
He raised an eyebrow as comprehension dawned, a tiny shake of his head as he blew out a breath.
‘Jesus, Jessica.’ He cupped the back of his neck for a moment and shifted in his seat.
‘I’ve got one,’ I murmured, leaning into him. ‘You’re the type to wonder if me and Lottie ever had a moment, right? Maybe a little more than friends?’
He looked up, eyes glued on mine for a moment before reaching out for a glass, not dropping my stare as he knocked it back with a wince in answer.
‘I swear to God, Jessica, if that really happened, I’m gonna do whatever you goddamn well tell me to for a live-action replay.’
I cackled, all pretence of trying to play a smart game washed away. This man.
‘Sorry, gorgeous, she turned me down. I tried.’
He bit his lip for a moment, clearly still picturing it as he shook his head.
‘Well now, I like Lottie an awful lot, but . . . she’s a goddamn fool. Look at you, for crying out loud.’
I paused at that same intensity as before in his voice weaving through despite the banter. Too close to the surface, for both of us.
‘Next question,’ I said instead.
Time seemed to slow, the rest of the bar melting away as he correctly guessed my favourite music genres and that I’d never owned any pets. Thankfully, he was wrong about what car I drove at home – none – and that I was an only child.
Fireballs and previous drinks accumulating, my head was starting to spin.
‘Last question,’ I said, unsure if I was slurring my words now or not. The glazed look in his eyes suggested he was unlikely to notice.
His pause was the longest yet, but when he spoke, the words were sure.
‘You’ve told yourself you’ll never get married. You’re afraid of really committing your whole self to someone.’
My thoughts spun, the truth of his words like the burn of alcohol in my throat. Painful.
‘Bullshit,’ I lied, shaking my head and instantly regretting it. I gripped the table and waited for his outline to become solid again. ‘I’d get married. It’s just a piece of fucking paper, right? People do it all the time.’
He grinned, shrugging.
‘I don’t buy it,’ he replied, leaning forward, his face just inches from mine, and reaching out to trace my fingers with his.
‘If I asked you – if I said, Hestia, you are more than I could’ve ever imagined in a woman and I’ll be fucking damned if I let you go home to England and never see you again, will you marry me so you can stay – you’d agree? ’
I shut the real words out, just listening to the tenor, the undertone of challenge. I never backed down, ever, to anyone. And fireballs or not, I was not about to back down to a cocky, half-cut cowboy.
‘Sure, why not. Fuck it, let’s go one better – I’ll book the registry office, or whatever you call it here.
Where’s the best place to get married in Jackson?
’ The surprise on his face was replaced with a belly laugh as I hiccupped, holding my hand to my mouth as I got my phone out.
‘You think I won’t do it?’ I asked, trying to get a grip on my focus, typing the place into my browser as Jesse named it.
‘There – that’s it, right? Look – “register your interest”, fifty dollar deposit. ’
He just laughed, shaking his head.
‘All front, honey,’ he murmured, lighting the fire in my gut all the brighter. I picked the next available date and my phone auto-filled the form. I clicked to pay, not giving a fuck about spending the money to prove a point.
‘There,’ I grinned, flipping the phone round to show him the confirmation page. ‘I thought a spring wedding would be nice. Still snow on the mountains, but maybe warm enough to consummate things right outside, seeing as there’s no way I’d let you keep a suit on for long.’
I picked up the last shot and handed it to him, watching as he knocked it back without complaint, banging the table with his fist as it went down, laughing.
‘Holy fucking hell, woman,’ he cried, shaking his head. ‘You know something? You’re just the kinda crazy I could get to love.’
There was a hesitation between us, a sliver of reality entering a surreal situation.
Time to leave.
I stood up, the room swirling like the rope in Jesse’s hands at the rodeo.
‘Whoa there, cowgirl . . .’ Cole’s voice. He appeared at my side, strong hands holding me up as the room began to tilt.
‘Don’t tell me you two have had that whole fucking rack of shots between you?’ Lottie scolded. ‘I told you leaving them alone together was a mistake,’ she said to Cole, taking my other side, tucking my arm into hers.
‘He started it,’ I said, my words now blurring together freely, trying to point in Jesse’s direction, and frowning when I realized he’d gone.
‘And you finished me off,’ Jesse said, appearing as if from nowhere behind me. ‘Just like you always do.’
‘Dear fucking God,’ Lottie groaned. ‘Right, we’re going home before this escalates.’
Jesse and I giggled together as we were escorted out of the bar, a pair of naughty schoolkids next to Cole and Lottie’s barely concealed amusement.
‘. . . dread to think where these two could end up if left to it,’ I heard Lottie say. And as I was about to object, I had a vague sense I’d just done something particularly stupid, even by my own standards.
But, for the life of me, my body and brain wholly engulfed in one giant fireball, I couldn’t remember what the fuck that was.