Chapter Twenty
I pack light. Jeans, shirts, hat, boots. I tuck the contract folder from Dry Canyon Distilling in my duffel. On the table by the bed, my phone buzzes—a text from Shawn with flight info for both me and Charli and the hotel name.
He was thrilled when I told him she’d be accompanying me. Relieved even. Like nobody believes I can handle my damn self anymore.
I look through the information, then pick up the phone and click on his contact.
“Yes?” he answers cheerfully.
“You only sent the confirmation number for one hotel room,” I say.
“Yeah, well, you know how it is when the rodeo’s in town.
Everything has been booked up for months.
I was lucky to get you a room when I did,” he says.
“The best I could do was have the king room switched to a double queen since they had someone who had originally requested a king wanting to upgrade.”
Shit.
“She’s not gonna be happy about this.”
“It’s not that big of a deal. Just don’t dally in the bathroom. Girls hate that. They need more time to get ready than men do.”
“Thanks for the advice. It’s so fucking helpful,” I quip.
“Relax, Ry. It’ll be okay,” he says. “Besides, you won’t be in the room but to sleep a few hours anyway.”
I doubt Charli will see it that way.
“Fine. Thanks for getting her in first class with me.” At least there’s that.
I click off just as a text comes in from Matty.
Matty: Cabe will drive you and Charli to Jackson Hole in the morning. Be ready by five.
Five.
Why does every damn flight in and out of this place have to be at the crack of dawn?
The morning comes too early. The porch lights are still on when I step outside with my bag. The air’s cool and thick with dew. Cabe’s old Ford is idling near the barn, headlights cutting through the haze.
Charli doesn’t look in my direction as she appears from the main house, dragging a suitcase behind. I hurry to help her lift it into the bed of the truck. The damn thing must weight fifty pounds.
“You do realize we’re only gonna be gone a few days, right?” I say as I toss my duffel on top.
“I know,” she says as I open the door.
She hops up, and I shake my head as I shut her in, then open the back door and climb in behind her.
“Morning,” Cabe calls cheerfully.
“Morning,” I offer in return, but Charli just grunts a response as she buckles herself in.
The silence stretches as the ranch disappears behind us. The only sound is the hum of tires and the occasional rattle of the old truck’s dash.
“Sorry to get you out and about so early, man,” I say. “I could’ve called a car.”
Cabe keeps his eyes on the road. “Yeah, that’s not really a thing around here. Besides, I don’t mind. It got me out of morning chores.”
Charli grunts again.
“You all right there, Chuck?”
Cabe sighs. “She’s always this pleasant before she’s had coffee.”
I chuckle. “Fair enough.”
For a while, none of us says anything. The highway winds through the valley, the Tetons just visible in the early light. Cabe pulls off when he sees the sign for a tiny drive-through coffee shop. It’s about the size of an outhouse, but the lady is nice, and the coffee is strong and hot.
“So, what’s this thing in Oklahoma?” he asks as we make our way back onto the highway.
“Rodeo weekend. Sponsor event. Dry Canyon’s announcing my partnership with their new Bull Rope Whiskey brand on Sunday night.”
“Seriously? That’s badass!” Cabe says.
Charli glances at me over her shoulder, surprised. “You’re gonna be the face of Bull Rope Whiskey now?”
“Apparently so.”
She huffs. “That’s fitting.”
“How so?”
“Because whiskey gets people in trouble.”
I laugh. “You saying I get people in trouble?”
She doesn’t answer, but her mouth twitches like she’s fighting a smile.
When we reach the airport, Cabe pulls up to Departures. I hop out and grab our things as Cabe rounds the truck.
“You got everything?” he asks as I toss my bag over my shoulder.
“Yeah, man. Thanks again for the ride.”
“Well, y’all have fun while I’m slaving away,” he says as he hugs Charli. “I sure wish I were going with you.”
“I wish you were going instead of me,” Charli mumbles under her breath.
I roll my eyes. Stubborn woman.
I push open the door, and she walks in ahead of me as I haul her suitcase for her.
She looks up. “Thank you.”
“Look at that. The coffee must be finally kicking in,” I muse.
She ignores the comment.
We make our way through TSA to the gate.
Our flight is on time, which is good because we have a tight connection at Dallas Fort Worth International Airport.
Normally, I don’t do connections. I’ll pay whatever it takes to avoid layovers and aircraft switches.
But that’s the problem with nowhere, Wyoming.
There’s no such thing as a direct flight to or from Jackson Hole.
We board, and the look of delight on Charli’s face when she realizes we’re in first class warms my chest.
“I’ve never flown up here before,” she says as she tucks her purse in the overhead compartment.
“See, we’re having fun already,” I say as I follow with my duffel, allowing her to slide in next to the window.
“I’m not going to have fun.”
“Come on, Chuck,” I say as I settle in the seat beside her. “You can have a good time. The sponsor is having a dinner, celebrating the announcement. Free food, good music. Lots of whiskey.”
“It’s not a date, Bryce.”
“Didn’t say it was. Just saying you might enjoy yourself. Rodeo weekends are a blast. Full of excitement.”
She finally smiles—barely, but it’s there. “I’m sure they are. That’s why I’m here to keep you away from temptation.”
I lean over and look her in the eye. “That’s gonna be hard. Don’tcha think?”
She meets my gaze. “And why’s that?”
I’m saved from answering when the flight attendant interrupts to ask for our drink orders. I get a whiskey, and Charli goes for the milder morning option of a mimosa.
By the time we land in Dallas, my phone’s already lighting up with texts from Shawn and Dry Canyon’s PR team. Meetings, schedules, wardrobe fittings. But all I can think about is Charli—and that single hotel room I haven’t mention to her yet.
And that’s where the real temptation lies.
Because as much as I tell myself this is a work trip and to focus on the job, the reality is simpler and more dangerous.
Every time I’m near her, I forget about all of it.
Shawn thinks the whiskey deal’s what I’m looking forward to this week. The sponsors, the cameras, the rodeo crowd.
But the truth?
The true wild ride is sitting beside me—wearing boots, a chip on her shoulder, and a fading hickey she hasn’t forgiven me for.
And, God help me, I can’t wait to be alone with her.