Goddess Rising (30 page)

Sam snorted. “Tell that to
him
.”

Rita rolled her eyes. “I have. But he’s as stubborn as you are.”

“I’m not stubborn,” Sam replied. “I’m right. There’s a difference.”

“And you’ve just made my point for me,
jaina
.” Rita smiled.

September—Sunday Afternoon

Ryker’s Automotive, Austin, Texas

W E S L E Y

W
es stepped into
Ryke’s garage through the side door, figuring Ryke wouldn’t hear him no matter how long Wes pounded on the front door. The garage was technically closed on a Sunday, but Wes knew better. Ryke would be knee-deep in one of his custom projects, blaring southern rock from the garage speakers on his one day off.

Sure enough, Ryke was wielding a welding torch, jamming to the Allman Brothers as he worked on custom exhaust pipes for one of his new choppers. As he stepped back and turned off the torch to admire the work, Wes turned down the stereo.

Ryke glanced around, pushing the welding mask off his face.

“Well, lookie here,” Ryke said with a grin. “What are you doing in town, college boy?”

“Mom’s got the day off,” Wes answered, slapping him on the back in a quick guy hug. “Figured I’d have an early supper with her. Do some catching up.”

“She’d like that,” Ryke nodded. “The Panhead doing alright? You having any problems with her?”

“Bike’s fine,” Wes told him. “Guy can’t just drop by on one of his friends and say hi?”

Ryke lifted a brow. “Don’t tell me you already made it through that driver’s license supply I gave you?”

Wes shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nah, man. I would have given you a heads up if I was just down for a run.”

Ryke set the welding mask on a workbench. Wes walked around the bare bones frame of the chopper, trying to envision the final product—knowing it would be a piece of art.

“You’re seriously talented, man,” Wes commented.

“Don’t know about that.” Ryke shrugged, yanking off his work gloves. “But it’s easy to love,” he said, by way of explanation.

Easy to love. Easy to want.
Sam entered his mind.

Wes had barely slept a wink the night before. He’d ridden around for a good hour trying to figure out what had happened before heading home to hit the sack, only to toss and turn.

He
knew
Sam was as into him as he was her, and that wasn’t just his pride talking. She’d been absolutely there with him… until she wasn’t. The restraint in her had gone beyond just shyness or the hesitation that came with a first-time hook-up with a new lover.

He stopped and looked up at his childhood friend. Ryke was just a few years older, but he’d seen and done a lot in his time. Mostly good. Some definitely bad. But he’d pulled it all together when push came to shove. Ryke had a business and was building a reputation, and all told, he was probably the closest thing to a brother Wes had.

“I need to ask you a question,” Wes said, pushing his hands into his pockets.

Ryke wiped his hands on a rag. “Shoot.”

“When did you know you wanted to own your own shop?”

If Ryke was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. “Seemed natural, I guess. I knew I wanted to build bikes. I figured if I worked for someone else, that might not happen, so here it is…” He gestured around the garage.

“But was it all you—on your own?” Wes clarified.

“You know it wasn’t.” Ryke tilted his head. “Friends and family chipped in. Hell, your mama even helped me work the back office the first year, remember?”

“I mean, did you decide it on your own? Or did someone help you arrive at the decision?” Wes asked, hedging.

Ryke leaned back against the workbench, crossing his tatted-up arms. “You’re not going to make a very good journalist if you keep beating around the bush, brother. Just ask what you want to ask.”

Wes took a breath. “Was there a woman?” he asked, meeting Ryke’s eyes.

Ryke’s face lit up with a knowing smile. “Who is she?”

“Who’s who?”

“The chick you’re falling for,” Ryke replied, fiddling with the dials on his stereo until he found some good old-fashioned Texas blues. He waved Wes over to his office. “I got something that’ll do you right.”

Wes followed him in, plopping down on a worn, leather sofa while Ryke set two glasses out and poured them both a measure of rye whisky.

“Tell me about her.” Ryke settled in behind his desk, nursing his drink.

Wes took a sip, winced, and took another. “She’s the real deal, man. Gorgeous, smart, doesn’t put up with anybody’s shit.” He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. “And she’s got me so twisted up and turned around… For the first time in my life, I swear I don’t know which end is up.”

“Sounds like a real spitfire.” Ryke smiled, sipping his whisky. “It was bound to happen at some point, Wes. You like women too much not to fall for at least one of ’em.”

“That’s the thing—” Wes sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Samantha’s nothing like any of the girls I’ve ever been with. And I thought I knew women. Hell, I ain’t ashamed to admit I’ve never had a problem figuring them out—”

“Product of being the sons of single mothers,” Ryke pointed out.

“Exactly,” Wes agreed. “But then Sammy comes along, and all I spend my time doing these days is trying to figure out ways to please her.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw, frustrated. “Shit, I oughtta just turn in my man card now. I’m goddamn shameless when it comes to this girl.”

Ryke considered him a moment. “Why’d you want to know if there was a woman behind my opening the shop?”

Wes met Ryke’s eyes. “You’ll forgive me for saying this, but a few years back, we all thought you’d end up either in prison or in a pine box, the way you were carrying on. You were such a hell-raiser, I can’t even remember how many times your mama cried at our kitchen table. Then all the sudden, you up and changed. I guess I was too caught up in my own shit to bother asking, but…I’m asking now. What changed?”

Ryke surprised Wes by smiling. “Didn’t like the idea of rotting away in prison or a pine box.”

“That’s it?” Wes asked, dubious. “You just woke up one day and
wham!
That was it?”

Ryke leaned back in his seat, put his booted foot up on the scratched desk. “Wes, it’s simple. There comes a day in a man’s life when he wakes up and either likes who he is or he doesn’t. Then he looks at all the decisions that brought him there and he either takes accountability and makes the changes or he buries his head in the sand and tells himself he can’t do any better. Or he runs away—”

“Like our dads.”

“Yeah. And I guess I took a good look and thought—I don’t want to be anything like that guy.” Ryke looked him in the eye. “So I started figuring out how not to be him.”

“But you still do illegal shit, just like your daddy did,” Wes pointed out. “That’s not exactly the straight and narrow, is it?”

“Yeah, well…” Ryke replied, shrugging. “It’s a means to an end until this dream can support itself. I never said the process of changing is perfect. But I think that’s kind of the point…it’s a process. I have a goal in mind, and I’ll see that it happens.” He took another swallow. “And if I get caught, then I’ll deal with that when it happens, but for the moment, legitimizing my business is going to take some time. But I can tell you that every day I get closer and the picture becomes clearer.”

Wes considered the glass in his hand, silent.

“I think it’s good you’ve got your tail caught, Wes,” Ryke told him. “But I think you have to ask yourself—are you changing for you, because it’s time to grow up, or are you trying to change for a girl because you don’t think she wants you for you?”

“Samantha’s constantly challenging me,” Wes confessed. “From day one, she’s had me second-guessing myself.”

“Why?”

Wes thought about it. “She wants a lot—she’s got high expectations.” He considered it. “But most of all, she’s got some lofty goals for herself. I think that’s what I admire most about that girl. She’s set a goal and she’s going after it, and no one is going to get in her way.” His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Hell, I kind of think she’s crazy, but I can’t help rooting her on.”

“So are her expectations realistic?” Ryke asked.

“For her, yeah,” Wes told him. “For me? I’m not so sure.” He looked up. “But she makes me want to try. I want to be better, work harder.”

“Has she
asked
you to be a better man?” Ryke asked.

Wes looked up. “Not in so many words, but I know that if I want a shot with her, I’ll have to be.”

Ryke rocked back in his seat. “All your life, you’ve gotten by on your good looks and your smooth talkin’. I’ve seen girls moon over you since before you knew you had a pecker.” His friend smirked. “But this chick sounds like she’s giving you a run for your money. Maybe that’s what you need to decide what you want, Wes—someone pushing you. As long as the reckoning is happening, not sure that it matters how you get there, brother.”

Wes finally gave voice to his fear. “But what if I’m not enough for her?”

“Do you think she’s asking the same thing herself?”

“No,” Wes answered immediately. “Sam’s not the type to change herself for a guy.”

“Sounds like a smart girl.” Ryke dropped his feet and looked at Wes seriously. “And if that’s the case, it seems to me like you oughtta be asking if you’re the kind of man
you
want to be. Because if you’re not, then you make the changes for yourself. And if you are—she can either take you or leave you.”

I want her to take me, but I want to be the kind of guy who deserves her too.

Wes knocked back the rest of his whisky. “I think I need another drink.”

Ryke laughed softly. “Yeah, I thought you might.”

*

September—Same Time, Sunday Afternoon

Wyatt Ranch, Texas

S A M A N T H A

She heard the
boys before she saw them, the peals of laughter and shouts ringing through the corral. A happy grin spread across her face as she loped past the big, white-washed stables on her family’s ranch. It was a gorgeous day, sun dappling the grass through massive oak trees, a breeze carrying the scent of hay and earth. Sam followed the sounds until she saw them.

Ry and Carey were both seated high atop chestnut quarter horse ponies, working lassos around a wooden bench with a makeshift horsehead. Gus, the horse trainer, coached them from the corral’s fencing.

“The horse’s natural instincts are to follow the steer, boys. So all’s you need to do is change direction, with light pressure on the neck—that’s real good, Ryland. Real good,” Gus told Sam’s little brother, a broad smile on his weathered face, deeply tanned from years of riding and ranching. “Now toss the lariat fast and smooth. Send it out like it’s an extension of your arm.”

Sam perched on the fence next to Gus. “You teaching these boys how it’s done?”

“Sammy girl!” Gus exclaimed, tipping his cowboy hat back with a blunt finger before giving her a quick hug. “Didn’t know you were coming home today.”

“Missed Aunt Hannah’s cookin’.” Sam shrugged casually, tossing her braid over her shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re lookin’ too skinny,” he replied, poking her in the ribs.

“Sammy!” Ry shouted, noticing her. He turned his pony easily, cantering toward her with a broad smile. “Whatcha doin’ back?”

“Thought I’d see if you and Care Bear were any better at ropin’,” she replied.

“Awww. Why you gotta keep callin’ me that stupid name, Sammy?” Carey huffed, still working his lariat.

“Cause I’ve been calling you that since you were a month old, Carrick Nelson!” she called out. “You two onto roping calves yet?” Sam asked, smiling at the boys.

“Almost, Sammy!” Ry told her, pleased. “Uncle Gus has been showing us how to rope a couple weeks now after school. We’re gettin’ better and better!”

“Pretty soon, you’ll be out with the hands, helping cut the herd.”

“Just like you, Sammy girl,” Gus agreed, his eyes proud. He’d taught her to rope too, what felt like eons ago.

“So what’s your mama making for supper?” she asked Carey.