Chapter Twenty #2
Colton shifted gears and pulled onto the main road. “Listen, Ally, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about doin’ what you’re passionate about, it’s that you need to accept the compliments you’re given.”
“Why’s that?”
He shifted in his seat, thinking about the answer. “Because the people that are complimentin’ you are the ones that want to see you succeed.”
I thought about Dennis’ words about my script. “Well, in that case, thank you, Colton.”
“You’re welcome, Ally.” He popped his gum and stole a glance in my direction.
“Okay, my turn for a question,” I said, leaning on the middle console.
“Shoot.”
“Why do you call me Ally?” It no longer punched me in the gut like it used to. The way Colton said it, with that Southern twang and a hint of a flirt, I was starting to love the way it sounded all over again.
He glanced at me, a hint of worry in his gaze. “Do you prefer Allegra?”
I swallowed, not sure how deep I wanted to dive into this right now. “Well, there’s only been one other per…it’s just that you’re the only person who calls me it, so I was curious why.”
“I can definitely call you Allegra if you’re more comfortable with it, but as I said, I knew you were a country girl from the minute I met ya.
I mean, I was sweatin’ in my boots just talkin’ to someone as beautiful as you, and then “Ally” just sorta slipped out.
” He was rambling, like he was nervous. “Ever since then, it’s how I know ya. ”
I took his calloused hand, squeezing it tight. “Well, I really like that you call me ‘Ally.’”
His hand relaxed in mine. “Good, ‘cause I like calling you ‘Ally.’”
He pulled behind the rodeo arena, squeezing my hand. “If I could bottle up the feelin’ I get before a ride, they’d sell it for millions.”
I squeezed his hand back. “I think they call that whiskey.”
We climbed out of the truck.
The Lazy E arena was an impressive size for how small a town Gurthie was.
The world’s largest indoor rodeo arena.
It could fit over seven thousand people, was home to the original Professional Bull Riding, and was one of the few arenas with a 100% dirt foundation-something the high-performance horses thrived in.
“I’d better head in to talk to Thompson before the show,” I said, mostly to myself.
“Kiss me first,” Colton commanded.
Yes, sir.
His hands were around my waist, mine on his neck. He tilted his head, inviting me even deeper into his mouth.
“You’re going to do great,” I whispered as I pulled away.
This was a big show for him. There would be a big event after the show, with sponsors, press, and of course, NFR judges.
Colton’s stats were incredible, but he still had a few more shows to get him qualified. I could feel his nerves, no matter how cool he seemed.
“Thank you, Ally. I’ll see you around the show?” He asked, a soft look in his bright green eyes.
“Yes. I’ll come see you as soon as you’re finished with your ride,” I promised.
We hesitated for just a moment, simply staring at each other, neither of us wanting to move.
“Good luck, Colton,” I whispered.
“Thank you, Ally.”
Finally, I had the strength to wave and start walking away.
One of the coolest features in this arena was the Gold Buckle Cantina. It was an iconic social spot, with glass windows looking directly down on the arena floor, made for VIPs to watch the action while seated at a bar.
For how invested Thompson was in the rodeos, I knew he’d be up there, even an hour and a half before the show.
“Good evening, Thomspon!” I said a little too loudly.
He jumped a little, craning his neck as far as he was able to, and nodded slightly. “Legra.”
I took a seat across from him without asking if it was all right. “This arena, wow! Did you ever ride here?”
Yes, after doing some extra digging, I found out that Thompson Avery was a bull rider back in the day. He had been a legend, a rising star, when he had a horrible fall during the NFR. He broke his neck, had emergency surgery, and was never able to ride again.
All in all, he was lucky to have survived that injury.
I had cold sweat running down my back when I read the articles. My heart couldn’t take the images that played in my mind. I respected Thompson a lot more.
He sighed in melancholy at the dirt, shoving a thumb through the strap of his overalls. “A few times. In fact,” he went on, surprising me, “I broke a record here, though I’m sure that’s been broken now.” Thompson finally turned to face me. “You look like you have somethin’ you wanna talk about.”
In all honesty, I was thinking about the fuses in his neck and the fact that he was one wrong move from being paralyzed or dead that day. “Yes, just one little thing, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Can I get you anything to drink?” A waitress suddenly jumped into our conversation.
I glanced at Thompson’s whiskey. “I’m okay, thank you. I’m not staying long.”
“Get a drink, Legra,” Thompson said, flicking the glass with his finger. “On me.”
After all this time, working so hard to get on his good side, all it had taken was asking about his rodeo days. I wanted to high-five and slap myself all at once. “Mojito, virgin, please,” I asked the waitress.
She nodded and left.
“Come on, Legra,” Thompson teased, actually smiling.
I leaned back in my seat. “Unfortunately, I am working, Thompson.”
He took a long drink.
“So let me get the shop talk out of the way,” I said, pulling a few papers out of my bag. “Tonight is a big night for the cowboys, with the cowboys and NFR sweet-talking, am I right?”
He nodded.
“Well, I hope it’s okay. I got some of your dealers to bring equipment into the arena, and we’ll do a mini version of the booth we did in Utah.
You don’t have to do any of the work, but since we’re the primary sponsor, I got us the main spot in the middle.
We’ll probably make some good sales, and it will make some great content for your social media and the website.
” I placed the pictures of my mockups in front of him.
He barely glanced at it all. “You’re the boss.”
The waitress set my drink in front of me. “Actually, sir, you’re my boss,” I said with a lighthearted chuckle.
Thompson tapped the pictures with a worn finger. “I don’t understand most of what you’re doing, but we made more money this year than I could’ve pictured. You’re doin’ good work, kid.”
I was about to brush off the compliment, but I thought of what Colton had said, and raised my glass. “I appreciate that, Thompson.”
He lightly clinked my glass back.