Chapter 51
Despite all the buzz and commotion of the rodeo around me, all I can focus on is Kaylee. She looks good, fucking gorgeous actually, in her bedazzled denim mini skirt and a white lace trimmed tank top. Her pink streaks are back, and as always, my sexy little angel smells like dessert.
A thrum of excitement pulses through my veins like a live wire.
This is the first time she’ll see me ride, and I’m a man of confidence, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have pre-show jitters because of it.
Despite wanting to impress her, this ride determines whether or not I’m in the running for PAbrA.
My winning streak has been non-stop, I’m back on top and feeling good.
Especially now that I’ve got my girl beside me and my friends and family on the way.
Tonight’s gonna be a good night. I can feel it.
“Lets go find Sawyer and Daisy or my parents so ya aren’t left alone when I ride.”
Kaylee’s soft hand loops with mine.We don’t even make it a full step forward when I feel her tense. Frowning, I turn back, only to find her concentration focused elsewhere. With a frown, I track my gaze to what she’s focused on.
None other than the man, the myth, the legend. Roy Slayton.
“Angel, are ya alright?” I whisper.
She remains quiet, and that’s enough for me to know that she is very much not alright. But why?
My eyes travel back toward Roy. He notices her, and, for a split second, he gives a look I can’t place.
Squinting his eyes, it’s as if he, too, notices Kaylee.
Does he know her? My mind whirls as I watch him grab the woman’s hand at his side while offering Kaylee a wink.
And while the look isn’t flirtatious, there’s something unsettling about it.
One thing my girl’s got is fire, but as I turn back to her, I watch as the flames burn out in her hazel eyes, ice replacing it. She doesn’t have to say a word, their stare isn’t just a coincidence, and he sure as hell isn’t someone she wants anything to do with. And then it hits me...
This was never a coincidence.
Roy continues in our direction, and as if the devil himself came out to play, a young photographer notices us both the moment he arrives at my side.
“Oh wow, two riding legends in the same place! Mind if I get a picture of you both for my school paper? Can my friends stand in?” Kaylee’s grip squeezes tighter, damn near punishing in its intensity, before releasing my hand altogether.
“Wait no, a rider is nothing without his cowgirl, your ladies should stand in too.”
Kaylee moves with poise, keeping her head held high and a neutral look on her face. But beneath it all I can see the hurt, the pain. So this is the dad who walked out on them. The man who broke her mother. Who made her build up her walls. Anger of my own sprouts in my chest, growing like a weed.
And suddenly, Roy Slayton isn’t a legend. He isn’t a great. He’s the dead beat dad who hurt my girl.
“Ready? One…” the photographer yells, snagging the attention of his friends and the crowd nearby.
But I can feel the weight of whatever is happening next to me.
She’s not ready for this situation she’s been thrust into, and I don’t know what to do.
People shuffle on either side of us, making sure they put their best face forward, but not Roy, he turns toward us.
Slayton clears his throat.
“Long time no see Kaylee girl…” Each word is entangled with arrogance and the woman in front of him turns to look at us.
Man, they say never meet your heroes, and fuck were they right.
I never lead with anger, but from his cocky tone, to the sad look in Kaylee’s eyes, I can’t help it.
If another word comes out of his mouth I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my mouth shut.
Hell, I know I won’t. My gaze remains forward and he clears his throat.
Not a single vowel escapes his lips as I cut him off.
“Listen fuck-face not another word out of ya or I’ll give them somethin’ to really take a picture of.
” I keep my voice hushed, but how serious I am is not.
“Two.” The photographer seems oblivious, or maybe he just wants his photo bad enough, but there’s a silent tension in the air as people shift and aim their awkward stares my way.
The woman holding his hand whispers, “Roy, whose Kaylee?”
“No one important,” he replies coolly. Every muscle in my body tenses as I narrow my vision on him, an unfamiliar fury igniting within my chest. I’ve never wanted to hit someone more in my life.
I pull her closer to me on instinct, and she squeezes my hand, leaning her body into mine. I savor her warmth, but it does little to dull how pissed I am. Glancing down at her, I search her eyes to make sure she’s okay. Not a frown or a single tear mar her gorgeous features.
The photographer yells, “Three.”
And while the dipshit next to me tells his woman to look forward, Kaylee remains as poised as she started.
She smiles for the camera, just as she’s supposed to, but my focus remains on her.
Roy’s comment lingers in the air around us.
Fucking idiot. What he doesn’t realize, just yet, is that insulting the love of my life is far more dangerous than any bull.