Fifty-two
Peter
“Alright, Peter.” Harlan stood before me in the bunkhouse, the wooden floor groaning under his shifting weight. “I forgot something very important.”
I smiled at the excitement in his tone. “What?”
“The rodeo always has a dress code.”
I frowned, immediately associating the term with casual versus formal.
“You can’t be showing up looking like a desk man. You gotta look the part. Cowboy. Hat, belt, boots, and long-sleeve collared shirt.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” A laugh toyed at the back of my throat.
“I’m not at all. What size you wear?”
I shook my head, seriously contemplating backing out so I wouldn’t have to dress up. But before I could answer, the bunkhouse door opened so fast it banged against the wall, causing me to jump.
Harlan whistled low. “Hell, Cody. What happened to you?”
Two sets of feet scuffled into the room, a rough, “tell him right now” coming from Cooper. He sounded pissed. Someone spat and I recognized the metallic scent of blood.
“I lied.” Cody’s voice ground out, angry but subdued. “I lied about you kissin’.”
Relief and shock pulled the blood from my face.
“It was just a joke,” he added.
Harlan’s voice rumbled. “That’s some shitty joke. Peter’s been trying to make right with his wife and you’ve kept that running for a whole damn month?”
I couldn’t even speak. My tongue froze in my mouth.
Harlan raised his voice. “You gonna say sorry or just stand there?”
Cody’s feet shifted backward as Harlan moved toward him. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, Peter.” He turned to Cooper, who was standing near the door. “Can I go now? I’ve got blood all down the front of my shirt.”
For a moment, I toyed with the idea of throwing another punch at his face for all the things he’d said about Sarah that day we were throwing hay bales, but…I was too relieved to feel angry.
I gave a slight nod, dismissing him.
Cooper spoke, “You can go.”
Cody sauntered off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. The shower turned on.
Harlan said below his breath with a chuckle. “Shoot, Cooper. Looks like you beat his front teeth out. Did he get a hit in?”
“Just one.”
I lifted my head, wishing I could see my friend’s face. I figured I knew what he looked like once upon a time, but Bea’s wedding was so long ago that the memory of his face had disappeared from my mind. The idea of him defending me made my throat tighten with gratitude.
I stood, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Cooper.”
“Don’t mention it.” He stepped out of my reach as if he didn’t want recognition. “I’m gonna tell Tag what happened when he gets back in town. Cody’s been on thin ice here as is and Tag doesn’t tolerate shit like that. It hurts morale.”
“Think that might be the end for him?” Harlan asked.
“I do.”
“Sweet justice,” Harlan murmured.
Coop took a sharp breath, his voice perking up a bit. “What are ya’ll doing?”
“Well, we were just discussing Peter’s shirt size because we forgot about the dress code.”
Cooper laughed and there was relief and freedom in the sound. It occurred to me that I would believe I’d kissed another woman for the rest of my life if Cooper hadn’t intervened. I didn’t know how one short month had given me a friend in him, but I was glad it had.
Everyone at the ranch had been there for me, but Cooper especially.
We’d suffered some heavy nights together.
And, if it wasn’t for Cooper, maybe the streaks of morning light dawning in my soul never would’ve materialized.
Maybe I’d still be half-living, scared, and shuffling through the dark.
Tag and Jesse threw me in the deep end, but it was Cooper who taught me to swim.
He’d pushed me beyond the bounds of my comfort zone more times than I could count and forced me to stop feeling sorry for myself.
I wondered where I’d be if he hadn’t dragged me out of the bar that night, kicked over the six pack, or let me climb up on a bronc.
Whenever I left this ranch, I was going to miss him.
Cooper said, “If you wear a medium, I’ve got plenty of stuff you can use.”
Nervous jitters made my muscles twitch.
All day I’d anticipated the rodeo, but more than that, I hovered over my phone.
Sarah should’ve gotten her flowers last night, and she hadn’t called yet.
At five o’clock on Saturday evening, it had been over twenty-four hours since they were delivered.
I had hoped she would read the letter and immediately call, but that didn’t happen.
I reminded myself over and over to be patient.
That she might need to think for a while.
That reconciliation, if possible, would take time.
But that didn’t stop me from shoving my phone in Cooper’s hands before the rodeo started, leaving him with instructions to answer if Sarah called.
Now, I waited on the catwalk at Hilltown Stockyards in Austin, my nerves buzzing with energy.
Music blared through the speakers over my head, the greasy smell of fairground food wafted through the air, and the chute boss, Rolly, laughed and hollered directions at everyone and everything.
Leaning into my senses, I focused on movement near the chutes—a gate snapping open down the corrals, the beat of hooves pounding the dirt as they directed the bronc I was appointed to ride, Giddy-Up-Girl, into the chute.
Rolly’s hand clapped my shoulder as I climbed up and over the fence, bracing my palms on either side and easing myself onto Giddy-Up-Girl’s back.
Having done it repeatedly, my toes easily found the stirrups, slipping in and flexing as Rolly handed me the braided rein.
My fingers clamped around it, adjusting the length to just right—not too long or short.
Giddy-Up-Girl shifted, excited to toss me.
For the hundredth time, I contemplated how stupid this was.
But as a surge of adrenaline warmed my veins, I didn’t care.
In some ways, this moment reminded me of so many that came before.
Adventures with Sarah—tearing down rapids, climbing mountains, flirting with the unknown.
The wind in our hair, the sun on our faces, the fire in our chests. No opportunity left unseized.
She’d be proud of me for putting myself out there.
My name rumbled over a speaker.
Then I shoved out all thoughts of her. Shoved away all scents and sounds and sensations—funneling my focus through the dark, to Giddy-Up-Girl’s shoulders, to the way her muscles flexed. My thighs clenched around her, my heels preparing to lift for the mark-out.
Excitement thrummed through my veins as I anticipated the way my stomach would drop when we launched into the air. After barely living for so long, it felt like flying.
Rolly gave me a count down.
And the chute opened with a bang.