Cowboys & Kisses (11 page)

“You okay?” I asked him. He just looked at me. I shook my head.

“We want to thank tonight’s sponsors…” The announcer began listing off names of local and state businesses.

I patted Dax on the knee and shifted, turning my attention to the arena below. First up, bronc riding. It wasn’t pretty. I winced, a lot, and ended up people-watching instead. There were plenty of people to watch. There were a lot of tourists, which was kind of weird.

I started to see the difference between the locals and those trying to blend in. Eventually I narrowed it down to four groups: Natives, meaning they’d been born and would die here. Transplants, like us. In-betweens, here to watch but weren’t real tourists or out to make friends, probably from San Antonio or Austin. Tourists, complete with the big cameras and grocery-store-bought straw cowboy hats.

“Glad that’s over,” Mom said to me. “I worry about those horses.”

I laughed. “Only you would say that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Let’s give those boys a round of applause,” the announcer’s voice enthused. “Well, Cowboy Sam, what’s the matter?”

Cowboy Sam was a heavy-set rodeo clown who was meant to entertain the crowd while the next event was set up. So far, he’d only added to the are-you-serious nature of this whole experience.

“Next up, team roping. We have some great teams here today, from as far away as Germany, Australia, and Brazil. That’s right, folks, right here in Black Falls, Texas.”

I looked at Dax. Dax looked at me. “They have rodeos in Germany?” I asked.

“You learn something new every day.” He shrugged.

It didn’t matter. This was Wyatt’s event.

Wyatt.

I scooched forward on my seat, my hands pressed between my legs. The wind picked up, lifting my hair and cooling my neck. I felt the tension in the air as two riders rode up, right behind metal gates. A cow was herded into a chute between them. A buzzer sounded and the cow bolted out, the two riders quick on its heels.

The first cowboy threw his lasso, hooking the cow’s horns. The other rider was close, his lasso twirling in the air. Once he saw the rope was secure on the cow’s head, he let his lasso fly, catching the cow’s back legs. The cow stumbled to a stop, showing it was caught by both ropes, and the cowboys let go of their leads, letting them fall to the dirt. Freed, the cow ran to the other end of the arena, the ropes falling off as he went, while the two cowboys followed, their eyes glued to the scoreboard.

“That was fast,” I murmured.

“Not really, sugar,” the man behind me said.

I turned around. The man was brown, his skin wrinkled like leather. His hands were gnarled around the longneck beer bottle in his hands.

“I wouldn’t really know what a fast time was,” I admitted, smiling.

The man tipped his hat at me. “Well, sugar, I can help you with that.”

I nodded. “Thank you.” Dax rolled his eyes, but he leaned back to listen too. We were both clueless.

“Now, the boys need to make sure they didn’t break a barrier,” the old man said. “Once the header gets the steer, the heeler needs to be fast.”

I glanced at Dax, who was grinning.
Keep smiling, smart-ass
. “You lost me,” I said. “I’m assuming the header is the one that—”

“Next up, Gabe Garza and Jorge Mendoza, from Houston, Texas,” the announcer interrupted our lesson.

“Watch.” The old man leaned forward, between Dax and me. The buzzer sounded and the cow shot out. The first rider threw his rope at the cow’s horns. “Header,” the old man said. When the other rider looped the cow’s back leg, he said, “Heeler. But he didn’t get both legs.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“That’s bad, sugar.” The old man smiled, sipping his beer. “Penalty points.”

I nodded.

“Next up, some locals, Wyatt Holcomb and Hank Pendleton,” the announcer said. “Word is these boys are thinking about heading to Regionals before Hank is deployed.”

The crowd went crazy.

7 CHAPTER SEVEN

I stared at Wyatt, watched his every move. He had a length of rope in his mouth, his lasso in one hand, and more rope in the other. His knees gripped his horse, but nothing else. He was rigid, his entire body poised for movement.

It was so fast I didn’t really see what happened. “Now that was a good run,” the old man said, sitting back. “Damn good run.”

All I saw was Wyatt, his smile when his score was posted.

“Best score so far,” Dax said. “Where’s that whistle now?”

I started to, but my dad beat me to it. All the same, Wyatt turned and found me.

I didn’t think his smile could get any bigger, but I was wrong. He looked so damn gorgeous as he tipped his hat at me. Why did
his
public display of affection have the opposite effect of Levi’s?

“Stop smiling at him,” Dax warned. “If you don’t like him, don’t lead him on.”

That’s when I realized I was smiling right back at Wyatt, a huge, stupid grin that had no place on my face. “Shit,” I murmured.

“Shit is right.” Dax frowned at me.

I frowned at my brother. “I didn’t mean…I’m not…I don’t want…” I stood up. “I’m going to get something to drink.” I paused then. “What’s next?” If Molly was coming up, I wouldn’t leave Dax—even if he was being a dipshit.

“Kids’ calf scramble,” the old man said, openly watching Dax and me with interest. “You won’t miss nothin’ special while you go hunt down your cowboy.”

“He’s not—” I shook my head, realizing that my parents were watching as well. “I’ll be right back.”

“Will you get me a water?” my mom asked.

“And some kettle corn,” Dax added.

“Oh, and a funnel cake?” Mom said.

I sighed. “Sure, fine, great. Be right back.”

It took me ten minutes to get out of the stands and down to the vendors’ tents that lined the gravel road along the side of the arena. The wait lines were ridiculous but at least I had some time to myself.

Trying to scale back to our seats carrying two water bottles, a bag of kettle corn, and a plate with funnel cake wasn’t easy. It was a joint effort; half of the people sitting in the stands between me and my destination helped me get there.

“Next time, you’re up,” I said to Dax as I shoved the massive bag of kettle corn at him.

He laughed. “Where’s your lemonade?”

“Bite me,” I mumbled.

The old man laughed.

“Allie,” my mother reprimanded, laughing. “Thanks for the goodies, honey.”

I nodded, handing her the funnel cake and water bottle.

“You just missed twenty-five or so kids running around trying to pull a red ribbon off a calf’s tail,” Dax said before shoving a handful of kettle corn into his mouth.

“Why would they do that?”

“Twenty bucks,” the old man said, taking some of the kettle corn Dax offered.

“This is Bubba,” Dax said. “He knows Dad.”

“When he was your age,” Bubba said.

I risked a quick glance at my father.

“You haven’t changed,” Dad said to Bubba.

“You sure as hell have,” Bubba replied, laughing.

I stared, but Mom and Dad were laughing too. “O…kay…” I said, sitting down and opening my water bottle.

Dax frowned. “I thought that was for me.”

“I couldn’t carry an open cup and all this crap. So, no, the water is mine.” I held the bottle away from him. “Go ahead, pout, I’m not sharing.”

Dax shook his head. “Fine.”

“Wyatt’s up next,” Mom said, leaning close to me.

“What?” I asked. “They started steer wrestling?” My heart slammed into my ribcage. “You could have told me,” I snapped at Dax.

“Why?” He gave me a look. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

I heard Bubba snort, and shot the old man a glare too.

“Wyatt Holcomb’s up again,” the announcer said. “This Black Falls, Texas boy has been attracting some attention in both steer wrestling and team roping.”

“When does he
sleep?
” my mom asked.

I shook my head. “Isn’t he too young for this?” I asked, wanting to stop this before it started.

“He’s eighteen,” Dax explained.
Wonderful
.

“Need any lessons on this, sugar?” Bubba asked.

I felt sick when the steer was locked into the shoot.

“His horns have been tipped,” Bubba said. They were still long enough to put big nasty holes in a body.

“He has to get the steer to the ground?” Dax asked.

“Yep,” Bubba said. “Clear run will have the steer on his side or back, all four feet in the air.”

How a cow could suddenly look like a man-eating monster, I’m not sure—but it did. Gone was the docile, sloe-eyed animal I saw in basically every field in Black Falls. In its place stood an animal capable of seriously injuring Wyatt. My chest felt very heavy. My stomach twisted and churned.

“Allie? You okay?” my mother asked.

The chute opened and the steer shot out. Its two-foot horns looked anything but safe. And then Wyatt was flying out of the shoot, leaning far to the right on his horse. I pressed my hands between my knees again, panic rising up. Wyatt was off the horse, one arm draped around the neck of the steer while his hands gripped the animal’s horns. One firm twist and they came to a stop, the steer on his side. Wyatt was up before the steer was.

“He made that look easy,” Bubba said.

The moment Wyatt looked at me, I looked away. I had to. I had to stare at my hands, my lap, the water bottle I’d all but crushed between my knees. Anything but him.

“Allie?” my mom whispered. I turned. “Are you okay?” I nodded. “You sure?” she said, putting her hand over my knee. I nodded again. “You want to go?” she asked, so softly I knew no one else could hear her. “I didn’t think about how stressful this might be.”

“The needless endangering of human life for sport, you mean?” I asked, keeping my tone as light as possible.

She smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “Exactly.”

She was giving me an out. We could leave. I wouldn’t have to deal with Wyatt or Levi…or Wyatt…or the way I felt around Wyatt.

“Barrel racing is next,” Dax said.

And just like that I knew I couldn’t bail on him. “I’m good,” I said. “It’s not like…what happened…had anything to do with this.”

Her eyes widened. Probably because I never brought up what happened,
ever
.

“No…I suppose not,” she agreed. I could tell she was working through things to say. “Funnel cake?”

I blinked at her then burst out laughing.

With Wyatt’s events over and Molly placing second, things got a lot less stressful. Bull riding was beyond me. The fact that there was an ambulance standing by said it all. But, as Bubba pointed out, there was an ambulance standing by at football games too. When I tried to argue that a single player didn’t carry around a knife or weigh a couple thousand pounds, he just stared at me.

Then it was over. “Not too late,” Dad said to Dax and me. “Nothing stupid or risky.”

Dax nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“They’ll be fine,” my mom assured him. “You have your phones?” Dax nodded.

“If Levi or Wyatt drink—”

“Dad,” Dax cut him off. “Wyatt doesn’t drink. But, yes, we’d call you for a ride.”

My dad’s expression was hard. He opened his mouth, then shut it, looking at Dax, then me.

I stared at the wide leather cuff I wore around my wrist, pretending one of the pieces of turquoise was loose just so I didn’t have to acknowledge him.

“Have a good time.” Dad’s voice was rough.

I followed Dax to the far side of the arena. Levi was there, with Austin and Dylan and a bunch of other people I didn’t know. Molly was there, all smiles for Dax. She was sitting with a group of blinged-out cowgirls.

“Ready?” Levi asked, smiling at me.

Why couldn’t I be more like Lindie? Levi was cute. He had a decent sense of humor. He was clearly into me. But I was
so
not into him. I nodded anyway.

“Let’s go.” He tilted his head in a this-way movement. I followed him. “What’d you think?” he asked.

I shrugged. “It was interesting.” He laughed. I glanced back. Molly and Dax were following, walking close together. I hurried to catch up to Levi, giving them some privacy.

“Your brother’s into Molly?” Levi asked.

“Looks like it,” I agreed.

“She’s kind of…well, she…” He shrugged.

“She’s what?” I asked, worried.

He lowered his voice. “She’s kind of…a tease.”

“What do you mean?” I didn’t like where this was going.

“She smiles and dolls herself up but she doesn’t date,” he said.

Meaning she’d probably turned him and all of his friends down. I liked her even more. “Looks like she’s into Dax,” I said.

He nodded. “I guess.”

Levi drove a four-door Blazer, old and so jacked-up he had added two steps to get inside. I used the handle he’d welded to the front and pulled myself up and into the front passenger seat. It was surprisingly clean on the inside, smelling like cleaner and a splash of cologne. When he turned the key, the engine roared to life.

I had no idea where we were going or what was going to happen, but Molly chattered away in the backseat.

“You should be happy,” Dax said to her.

“I am, Dax,” she replied. “I’m happy that’s over and we can enjoy tonight.”

I smiled out the window of the car, imagining the grin on my brother’s face.

“What did
y’all
do to celebrate wins?” Levi asked.

I shrugged. “Party. Drink ’til you threw up. Sneak in so you didn’t get grounded.” I watched him closely, waiting for his reaction.

He turned, looking at me. “Hell, yeah,” he said, eager.

“Not anymore,” Dax said from the backseat.

“Aw, man,” Levi argued, slowing down as we crossed a big empty field and parked. “Why not?”

“Because I killed my best friend.” I got the words out with no inflection or emotion.

“Allie…” Dax sounded like he was choking.

I opened the door, searching for the handle and steps in the dark. I lowered myself to the ground and walked to the tower of logs in the middle of a clearing surrounded by a ring of big flat rocks.