30. Beck
Beck
The sun beats down on the back of my neck as Willow and I wait our turn in the staging area. The heat is hard and relentless, beads of sweat rolling down my temples. I adjust my hat, the brim doing fuck all to provide shade where I’m standing.
I’ll endure it without complaint, because the prize pot up for grabs at The Buck River Rodeo is substantial.
I’ve already bagged almost eight thousand through the preliminary competitions over the course of the weekend.
If I win today, I’ll be taking home the whole damn thing.
Enough to completely cover the flood damage to the barn.
We’ll be able to move forward, finally. I’ll be able to focus on the future of Wild Sage, instead of treading water and hoping we don’t get pulled under and into the current. We’re so close, I can fucking taste it.
Yet, thinking about the fate of Wild Sage, and the fact that so much of it hinges on my performance today, is exactly what is throwing me off my game.
I don’t want to consider the decisions I’ll have to make if I don’t take home the lion share of the winnings today.
The kind of cutbacks that will be inevitable to make ends meet.
It could mean subdividing and selling off a portion of the land. The realtor who contacted me the other day has been up my ass since I responded.
Part of me wonders if that might be best. If all of this is more trouble than it’s worth.
We aren’t talking about piddly small town rodeo winnings here.
We’re talking more money than I can even fathom.
Millions of dollars for a small parcel of land.
It would solve a lot of my problems for years to come, not just a bandaid fix.
Guilt needles at me, shame washing over me that I even entertained the idea before I gave myself a chance to earn the money myself.
Even as I hit send on that text message, I knew I’d made a mistake.
Selling would mean turning my back on my family's legacy.
Everything that every Hollis has ever worked for before me.
Not only that, but deep down a part of me knows it would be a betrayal to Lyla, too. All the work she’s put into the ranch, her brother’s livelihood, all of that would be gone. All for nothing.
But every rodeo is getting tougher. It took this whole month to get my shoulder back to my full range of motion after the last rodeo. Even practicing for this one has set me back.
I stretch my arm over my head, making a circle to test it out. A twinge of pain radiates from under my scapula. Nothing like what it was, but still, enough that it could cause problems today.
I’m last on the draw today, which has given me plenty of time to overthink it and somehow not enough time to do my pre-run ritual. Anxiety mounts within me as I watch the cowboy two ahead of me start strong out of the chute.
I absentmindedly run my hand over Willow’s shoulder as we wait, because I know she can feel my stress. Her ears flick back and forth as if she’s attuned to everything going on around her, like she’s assessing her competition the way I should be.
“You good to go, Beck?” one of the rodeo staff asks, breaking me out of my racing thoughts.
I need to get a fucking grip if I have any chance of winning today. I nod, and lead Willow into the chute. I lift my foot and stick it in the stirrup, hauling myself up onto Willow.
Nod. Break. Settle. Swing. Dally. Step down. Trip. Tie.
I run through my pre-race ritual of walking through the run in my head, visualizing each step before I take it, and for a second it works. For a second, I feel in control again, the way I’ll need to be when Willow and I are out in the ring.
The rider ahead of me finishes his run, and heads back in my direction. He’s a young guy, probably hasn’t even hit twenty-five yet. He rides past me, a hot-shot smirk on his face.
“Have fun out there, old man,” he says, tipping his hat in a way that makes me want to rip it off his head as he leads his horse out of the ring.
He says it as if having fun is the most I can accomplish. My molars grind together and I crack my neck in both directions, trying to shake it off. But he’s rankled me.
Nod. Break. Settle. Swing. Dally. Step down. Trip. Tie.
Nod. Break. Settle. Swing. Dally. Step down. Trip. Tie.
I repeat to myself, desperation rising into sheer panic.
My gaze darts to the ring, the dust settling from the last run.
The pick up men get into position, readying themselves to direct the steer where it needs to go once I’ve roped and released him, and the rodeo worker standing in the chute next to me waits for my signal.
Then, my eyes land on her.
Lyla.
The timing of bringing that calf over to Wild Sage couldn’t have been more convenient. Having Austin stay behind to do the feedings was the only way I was able to get Lyla away, to have some time with her, and enjoy whatever this relationship is until we have to face reality.
Until I have to come clean.
It’s going to be harder to explain it to him now that Lyla and I have crossed more lines than either of us ever intended. Austin doesn’t need to know how far it’s gone, it’s not something I would ever share, but the guilt still weighs on me.
I can’t control myself around her. When she kneeled on the ground in front of me and took my cock in her mouth, there wasn’t much I could do. She has me wrapped around her finger, and I’d set the world on fire if she asked me to.
Now she’s jumping up and down in the stands, waving at me with that gorgeous, bright smile overtaking her face, her perfect tits bouncing under her t-shirt.
Unlike while we were practicing, she doesn’t have to hold back because Austin isn’t standing next to her.
She doesn’t have to pretend like this is just a job to her.
Lyla’s work on the ranch technically ended when she gave me her official recommendations.
That’s how this deal was supposed to work.
Yet here she is, still invested, still finding reasons to stay, forcing me to do yoga in the yard with her every morning to rehab my shoulder, choosing to come with me to a rodeo to cheer me on.
And for the woman who showed up at the rodeo wearing a t-shirt that said vegans taste better, and scoffed at all the work we do at Wild Sage, the look on her face now tells me she might actually be enjoying herself.
Maybe she’s started seeing all of this in a different light. I don’t need her to love it the way I do, I just want her to understand it, understand me.
The sight of her makes my cock twitch, but it also makes my insides warm.
Last time I was in this position, Lyla’s presence in my periphery was the reason I lost. But having her here is different this time.
Lyla is less of a distraction, and more of a motivator.
Her being here spurs me on, in the same way her being in my life has made me want to do better, to be better for her.
Lyla’s mere proximity to me makes my mind go quiet.
She’s the love of my life, and I’m gonna fuckin’ win for her today.
Her voice echoes in my mind. Inhale peace and calm, exhale worry. So, seconds before my run, I’m using the mantra she uses when she wants to ground herself.
I take a cleansing breath, and I nod to the chute crew.
The steer is released, running out into the ring, and Willow is in hot pursuit.
Dust flies around us, only the sound of hooves thundering in the dirt as the crowd watches with rapt anticipation.
Inside, my mind is nothing but stillness, a quiet understanding washing over me that even if I lose today, Lyla and I will get through anything.
Inhale… Willow comes up on the steer, getting herself into position as I lift my roping arm. I’m pleasantly surprised at how it feels, no pain, no sharp twinge. It feels good.
Exhale… I let the rope slide out of my hand and through the air, and it catches around the steer, stopping it in its tracks. The rope becomes taught as the steer pulls against it, fighting to get free.
Time moves faster now, as I quickly move through the steps I could do in my sleep.
Before I know it, I’m off of Willow and on the ground, the steer tied up tight.
The crowd roars around me and I jump up, pumping my fist in the air. I don’t have to see the time on the screen to know I fucking obliterated whoever was in first.
My run was the cleanest I’ve ever had. I was focussed, homed in, fucking unstoppable.
All because of that beautiful brunette in the stands.
I turn around to find her, but she’s already hopped over the fence and is running toward me.
She jumps when she reaches me, wrapping her legs around my waist as I catch her in my arms.
I spin her around, her laughter bubbling out of her.
“Beck, that was amazing,” she says.
I set her down on the ground, but I don’t pull away from her, I don’t let go. I bury my face in her hair as I hug her close, my hands finding the dip of her waist and holding on. The feeling of her in my arms is the only thing grounding me, reminding me that this is real. That we did it.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I say.
When she pulls out of our hug, I bring my hands to the sides of her face, admiring her. Her dark lashes are wet, chocolate eyes shiny as she gazes up at me.
“I fucking love you, Trouble.”
“I fucking love you, Bossman.”
“I’m taking you out tonight to celebrate,” I say. “A real date.”
Her perfect pink lips slide into that gorgeous smile. “I’d love nothing more.”
We’re not in Sage Valley anymore. We don’t have to keep this a secret here. So, in front of the crowd, I plant my lips on Lyla’s, and kiss her deeply.
Winning the rodeo felt good, but leaning against my truck outside the quaint bed and breakfast I booked feels like all of my dreams coming true at once.
My heart swells in my chest as I wait outside the white farmhouse with the wraparound porch for her to step outside.
Lyla is the girl I wish I could have taken on my first date, shared my first kiss with, asked to come with me to prom. But I couldn’t. I spent all those years pining for her, and now I feel like a teenager again. I’m getting a do over.
Not only that, now I have a real chance at keeping the ranch. I try not to think about the unanswered text message burning the inside of my pocket from my phone. The listing price the realtor sent was beyond anything I could have imagined, and I’d be stupid not to sell.
But I guess I’m a stupid man, because I’d give up all the money in the world for my family, for the people I care about. Now, Lyla is at the top of that list.
Stupid in love, is what I am.
The sun is low in the sky, but not quite setting, so the whole area is cast in a warm, golden glow. When Lyla steps out through the screen door and down the steps onto the lawn, she’s lit up like an angel.
She’s wearing a soft white dress that ends just above her knees, showing off her lean, tanned legs that disappear into brown western style boots.
The hair she normally wears piled into a bun or clipped up is loose, cascading in long waves down her back.
But it’s her eyes that capture my attention as she nears me, glowing almost amber in the sun.
Her plush pink lips widen into a smile that makes her eyes damn near glitter.
She’s a cowboy’s dream girl. She’s my dream girl.
“Hi, Bossman,” she says, reaching up and wrapping her long slender arms around the back of my neck.
“Hi, Trouble,” I say, resting my forehead against hers. “You look beautiful.”
She thanks me by pressing her lips into mine, and the only reason I break off is to open the passenger door of the truck. Lyla climbs inside and I close it behind her.
I’m taking Lyla Morgan on a date.