The closer we get, the thicker the crowd becomes—families, tourists, and locals in starched Wranglers and oversized hats. Vendors line the road with food stands, and the air is filled with the smell of fried dough and barbecue smoke. The sounds of laughter, country music, and distant bulls bawling drift on the breeze.
Catalina leans across the console, tugging on my arm. “This is insane. Look at all of them! Carter, they’re wearing chaps in broad daylight!”
Her hair falls into her face, her wedding ring flashing in the sunlight as she gestures wildly at some group of cowboys swaggering down the street. My chest tightens because she looks perfect like this, barefaced, golden in the light, alive.
“Settle down, darlin’,” I mumble, though my mouth twitches into a grin.
“Settle down?” she scoffs, shoving at my shoulder. “I’m about to buy a rhinestone cowgirl hat and you’re telling me to settle down?”
“Darlin’.”
She scoffs, flipping me off.
I chuckle to myself as we pull into the rodeo parking lot, dirt lots stretching out around the arena. The place is enormous; bigger than anything Ruby Ridge has ever seen. Bleachers rise high into the sky, flags fluttering in the wind, and the sound of the announcer already booms over the loudspeakers.
Catalina’s practically vibrating beside me. She’s got that same light in her eyes she had the first time she walked into her bookstore.
“Carter.” Her hand finds mine, squeezing hard. “We’re really here.”
“Yeah, baby.” I squeeze back, scanning the arena as I park. “We’re here.”
We step out of the truck, gravel crunching under our boots—the air hums with music and the smell of barbecue smoke, leather, and dust. Catalina’s hand slips into mine as we walk toward the gates, her boots sparkling with each step.
She’s practically bouncing, pulling me along as if I’m the one who needs to keep up. Her hair catches the sunlight in loose waves, and her wedding ring flashes as she points out vendors selling glittering belts and rhinestone hats.
I love seeing my ring on her finger.
“Look at that one!” she gasps, her eyes locked on a stand dripping in sequined cowgirl jackets. “Oh my God, Carter, do I need fringe?”
“You don’t need anything,” I mutter, eyes glued to her legs in those shorts. “You’re already killin’ me.”
She laughs, shaking her head, but her cheeks glow pink as we reach the entrance.
The announcer’s voice booms overhead, pulling us into the chaos of the arena. The stands are already full, with families cheering, tourists taking pictures, and locals leaning against therail with beers in hand. Bulls bellow from the chutes, and the clang of gates slamming echoes across the dirt floor.
Catalina grabs my arm, eyes wide. “This is insane. Look at all the cows, omgggggg.”
“Bulls,” I correct automatically.
She waves me off, too enchanted to care. “Baby, that’s practically the same thing.”
I can’t even roll my eyes at her, not when she looks like this; glowing from within, lips slightly parted, excitement radiating from her.
We climb the bleachers and find seats halfway up. She tugs me down beside her, immediately leaning forward with her elbows braced on her knees.
The crowd roars as a bronc bursts out of the chute, a rider holding on for dear life. Catalina gasps, clutching my hand and squeezing tightly.
“Holy shit, Carter! Did you see that?”
I squeeze back, watching her more than the ride. “I saw, darlin’.”
The announcer’s voice echoes throughout the arena, and the crowd rises to their feet.
“Ladies and gentlemen, make some noise for Opal Springs’ very own star bull rider, Jake Steele!”
The bleachers shake with cheers. Down in the dirt, a cowboy steps out of the chute like he owns the whole damn place. Tall, broad-shouldered, hat tipped just enough to reveal a shit-eating grin. His jeans fit tight, spurs flashing under the lights, each step a show for the shouting fans.
The crowd cheers him on, hollering and whistling like he’s the second coming.
