I rolled over and forced my lips down into a pout. “You’re supposed to be the voice of reason, Whit. The one who tells me I’m being crazy.”
She giggled and sat up. “Being reasonable is overrated. I’d much rather take a chance than stay in my comfort zone.”
“Even if there’s the potential of failure?”
“We learn more from our failures than we do from our success,” she said with a shrug.
I rolled my eyes even as my lips curved up into a soft smile. “Where’d you get that from, a fortune cookie?”
She stuck her tongue out at me, before scrunching up her nose and grinning. “Actually, yes, I did.”
“Of course, you did.”
But deep down I knew she was right. What was that saying, there was no reward without risk, or something like that? Besides, I'd just turned twenty-three a few months ago. Most twenty-three year olds didn’t have their lives together. Hell, one could argue Dad was in his fifties andstilldidn’t have his shit figured out, so why was I being so ridiculously hard on myself?Life was wild and crazy and filled with so many twists and turns it was impossible to try and keep control of it all.
Maybe I should take a page from Whit’s book and just learn to enjoy the ride.
Chapter twenty-four
The Painter
Hux
The afternoon sun beatdown on me. One could argue it was too early to call it quits already, but this god-awful heat made it damn near impossible to do a good portion of my chores, and besides, with the entire bunkhouse gone at the rodeo—along with their horses—I only had a couple to clean and feed for the evening.
Normally, I didn’t mind working, it was one of the few things that I could still do that didn’t make me feel like a complete invalid. I guess all the muscle memory of growing up in the saddle and just sheer stubbornness had its perks. But the idea of getting to see Quinn sent my pulse rate quickening. I hadn’t hardly spent any time with her the past few days, and I’d be lying if I said I’d been good company for most of it, what with all this rodeo talk going on around the bunkhouse.
It shouldn’t have the pull over me like it did. It wasn’t even like they were competing in one of the big rodeos. But still, just the thought of the wordrodeomade my blood both freeze over and boil in my veins at once.
It had taken so much from me. Robbed me of my success, my younger years, my vision. Hell, it damn near took my life. But as much as I hated it, a part of me would always love it. It had shaped me, molded me into the man I was today—for better or worse.
My relationship with the rodeo was toxic as hell, but what a part of me—a deep, forbidden part of me—wouldn’t give to have the chance to suit up and ride one more time.
I blew out an angry breath and a moment later a familiar pressure appeared at my right side. “I’m okay, boy,” I huffed, even as I pulled a dog treat out of my back pocket and held it down at my side.
Rusty took it gently, not even skipping a beat or step as he continued trekking on alongside me. I’d owned quite a few dogs in my life, but none as smart as Rusty. He just got me. My mom and dad had gotten him for me shortly after the accident. He’d been about six months when they’d given him to me, so he was potty trained and had some basic obedience training on him, but any other training was from me. They’d urged me to get him properly trained, even so far as got into contact with an agency to work with him and I, but I didn’t want a seeing eye dog. I didn’t want a cane. I didn’t want anything that let anyone know I was different. I didn’t want to be singled out or judged or pitied, I just wanted to be left the fuck alone.
Silence descended on us as we walked the familiar path—and I mean silence in the loosest terms. Cicadas screeched in the trees, grackles cawed and flapped about, my boots scuffed against the ground, while Rusty’s toenails clicked against the concrete or asphalt beneath my feet. From how goddamn hot theground was, I’d say asphalt. But none of that would matter soon. Because soon, I’d have the sweetest distraction. Just the thought of Quinn had me quickening my pace.
I mounted the stairs of the porch and bent down to grab the key from beneath the welcome mat before the door. A random thought of what the welcome sign looked like went through my mind. Was it plain or did it have some cutesy little saying on it. Quinn hadn’t replaced this one yet, I’d have felt the difference from all the wear and tear of it, but I bet if she got around to changing it, it’d have some cute little saying on it. Maybe not so generic aslive, laugh, lovebut probably something likeWelcome. Hope you brought wine.Which would be pretty ironic, since she was such a damn lightweight.
Feminine laughter trickled through the house from the back bedroom as I opened the front door, letting myself and Rusty in.
Sounded like Whit was here.
I liked the girl. She was a bit—okay, a lot much personality-wise for me, but she was nice and a good friend to Quinn, so who the hell was I to judge? Rusty’s presence disappeared from my side, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor as he trotted away from me, no doubt to find Quinn. He was slow to trust, but not with her. Seemed she had him wrapped around her finger as easily as I was wrapped around hers.
Her excited gasp trickled through the house a moment later, followed by a drawn out “awww” by Whit. “Hi, Rusty. I’m guessing your dad must be home.”
Home.
Was it preemptive and pathetic that the single word stirred a whirlwind of emotions in my soul? I might be an idiot, or a glutton for punishment at the very least, but I could envision coming home to her every night. I could envision a life with her. And it would be good. Amazing even to get to love her everyday.
Swallowing down the sudden lump in my throat, I shook off the wave of longing and closed the door. Two pairs of footsteps, accompanied by Rusty’s claw taps, grew in volume as they made their way toward me. A ripple of anticipation welled in my veins moments before her scent hit me. It was the same as every day so far, but the calm that settled over me, curling around my limbs and wrapping around my heart, didn’t cease to amaze me. No one had ever left such a visceral impact on me. Made me feel so deeply. I was painfully aware of Quinn, and I don’t think it would ever change. Not that I minded. Not one damn bit.
“Hi, cowboy.” Her voice was light and warm, matching her touch as she wrapped her fingers around my bicep and drew me into her.
A sigh of approval escaped me as I pulled her into my arms.
