With everyone around me screaming his name and cheering for him, someone who’s been theirs for over a decade now, he feels like mine. Because he’s staring at me.
He doesn’t feel like theirs when he looks at me like that. I wonder for a moment if he feels like I’m his. This one person in the crowd that he continues to seek out.
Rhett’s mouth twists in a wry grin and he shakes his head, pulling the elastic out of his wild hair, looking so fucking good that it hurts.
I watch him leave the ring, fringes of his chaps shaking, shoulders slumped—even though he has the buzz of the crowd firmly in hand. And I ask myself, if this were my last moment on earth, would I go happy?
The answer is, I’d go full of regrets. I’d go knowing I’ve done everything in my power to make everyone else around me happy, but failed to deliver that same treatment to myself.
I’m up and moving, saying “Excuse me” repeatedly as I push past people’s knees in my row of seating, feeling the connection between Rhett and me more sharply than ever. Like a tug at the center of my chest, yanking me towards him. Like it’s nature, and I’m helpless to deny the pull.
I jog down the steps before striding as quickly as my short legs will carry me toward the staging area, past the bull chute, and down the alleyway that leads to the locker rooms. I flash my pass at the security guard with a brief, flat smile.
He says something to me, but all I can hear is the healthy, even pounding of my heart in my chest. I catch sight of Rhett and almost smile before coming to a screeching halt.
He’s got one arm propped up on a metal fence panel, his cowboy hat back on his head. I can see the tips of his hair brushing against his back as he leans forward toward the woman in front of him.
She’s beautiful. And I recognize her from the last rodeo.
My stomach twists and my chest aches. This is exactly what I told him to do. He gave me a moment to tell him I wanted him too, and I told him I didn’t. I told him to play this game with someone else. I should be happy he listened for once.
But I’m devastated. I’ve never been oblivious to Rhett’s reputation, but he’s never lived up to it in front of me. My tongue tastes sour at the sight.
I turn to walk away, not wanting to see any more than I already have, which is when I bump straight into a rock-hard chest and look up into the grinning face of Emmett Bush.
“Where you headed, darlin’?” he drawls.
I roll my lips together, weighing my options, taking stock of the warring emotions inside of me, and beating myself up for always being so goddamn responsible. So responsible, I drove a guy I might actually like to that.
“Not sure. My night is wide open. Got any ideas?” I ask, recklessness coursing through my veins.
Emmett smiles wider and slings an arm around my shoulder. “Well, have I got the bar for us.”
I stiffen under his arm and pull away slightly. He doesn’t give me the same sense of home that Rhett does when his arms wrap around me. But maybe I don’t need feelings.
Maybe what I need is some fun.
“Hey, Eaton!” Emmett shouts, and I wince. “Grab your girl, and let’s hit The Corral. Celebrate your old ass barely beating me tonight!” He laughs and tugs me along with him.
And I go, refusing to risk looking over my shoulder. I’m far too terrified of what I might see.
19
Rhett
Kip: Hell of a ride tonight, kid.
Rhett: Yup.
Kip: What’s wrong?
Rhett: Your daughter is what’s wrong.
Kip: I don’t even believe you. That girl is one of the best people I know. And I’m not just saying that because I’m her dad.
Rhett: Yeah, she is. That’s the problem.
I take an aggressive sip of the shitty beer in my hand before putting it back on the table with far more force than I intended.
“You’re going to break that thing, Boss.” Theo chuckles and takes a sip of his own, eyes alight with humor while he sits across from me at the high-top table.
Rather than replying to his goading, I roll the bottle between my hands, feeling more than hearing the clink of the glass against my silver rings over the country music blaring through this bar.
“Thought you’d be in a better mood after winning. Again. Would it kill you to give the rest of us a moment in the sun?”
“You’re young, Theo. Work harder. Earn it. Spur your bull more and hold on for dear life rather than taking the path of least resistance. Mediocre isn’t good enough to win on this tour.”
I’m being harsh, but it’s probably time for him to level up. If his old man were still around, he’d tell him the same thing. I remember him doing it with me.
He rubbed my back until one day he shoved me into the deep end. Tough love. It works when someone is as competitive as I am. Like a challenge to do better.
Theo snorts, his head rearing back a little. He’s playing it cool, but I can tell by the spark in his eye that I’ve ticked him off a tad. Just the right amount to make him want to be better. Small increments all the time.
I get a real kick out of watching him develop, and I love being there for him even if I wish it were his dad instead of me.
Try as I might to keep my eyes lasered on the brown bottle in my hands, they slip over to where I know Summer is sitting with that sleaze bag, Emmett. All I can see is her back, the taper of her waist where her brand new WBRF t-shirt is tucked into those tight-as-fuck jeans, cinched with some belt that has a colorful stitched pattern on it. The way they hug her hips where her body flares out is distracting beyond comparison.
His stool is too close to hers, and he leans close to say something to her while laughing and shit. All happy-go-lucky golden boy, while I’m sitting over here brooding like a Neanderthal.
“Do you think hooking up with Cindy is a bad idea?” Theo pulls my attention back to him with a complete subject change.
“I don’t know. Why would it be a bad idea? She likes you. That’s why she pulled me aside. To find out if I knew what you were up to tonight. Like I’m some fucking schoolgirl who wants to gossip about relationship status.” I shake my head and take another swig of my beer.
During past seasons, if I felt like celebrating after a good ride, I’d roll out of the ring and snag myself a bunny. But the appeal has slowly but surely worn off, and the girls keep getting younger. Too young.
Or I keep getting older. I guess that’s more likely.
“Because she’s a buckle bunny, man. She’s been with other guys on the tour too.”
“When did you become a virgin again, Theo? Pretty sure I saw you balls deep in one of her friends when I walked into the locker room once.”
He laughs loudly now. “Forgot about that.”
“But do you like her?”
He bobs his head back and forth with a shy smile. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
“So, who cares? Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t. Just don’t be a pig about it. Be up front. Buckle bunnies have feelings too.” I wink at him.
“Ah, dating advice from the famous ladies’ man, Rhett Eaton!” He holds his beer bottle up to me in cheers and I ignore it, opting to just take another swig. I’m not so sure my past behavior is to be celebrated.
I sneak a peek over at Summer again. I can’t keep my eyes or mind from wandering to her. If she leaves with Emmett, I might combust.
He slings his arm over the back of her chair like he has a right to.
“Speaking of girls . . .” Theo waggles his eyebrows and points his chin over at Summer.
“What?” I bite out. “My babysitter?”
“I wouldn’t judge. Fucking the babysitter is a thing for a reason.”
“I thought I told you not to be a pig?” I have to remind myself he’s only twenty-two—and walking around with a constant boner—before I bite his head off.
“Whatever, man. Just saying. You can’t take your eyes off her. It’s almost like you’re jealous.”
I resolve, right here and now, to not look over there again.
“Of Emmett Bush?” I snort. “That’ll be the day. I’ll start highlighting my hair and going for facials to get his Ken-doll glow just so I can be more like him.”
“You definitely don’t sound jealous at all,” Theo mocks.
I take another aggravated swig. “Good. Cause I’m not.”
“I can see why you would be though. She looks damn good on that bull.”
“What?” I whip around so fast that I knock my bottle in the process, righting it just before it creates more than a small puddle of beer on the table.
But when I glance back up, sure enough, Summer has climbed onto the mechanical bull. It’s surrounded by foam mats, and a crowd has gathered around the low barrier around the circle.
Her small hand is wrapped around the grip, and her pale jeans are so tight that I can see the fold where her thigh meets her hip.
She’s grinning widely, and when she looks at Emmett, her top teeth dig into her bottom lip.
Those fucking lips.
She gives a small nod and giggles as she does it. Looking so carefree. So young. So much happier than she usually does in my company.