“Have a good ride, cowboy.”
I smile, and then I’m left standing in my gear in the open door of my truck, watching the most ridiculous pair of pink glittery boots walk away, taking a piece of my heart with them.
CHAPTER 25
IT’S NOT SERIOUS, EVERYTHING IS FINE
“Hell,Landry, yesterday had to be your best ride yet, and you wasted it on the damn exhibition!” Tate laughs, slapping my thigh before passing me another beer. “Don’t you ever work that hard unless they’re scoring ya,” he chuckles.
It was indeed a good ride. Couldn’t have had anything to do with the hot titty fuck that took place with my young bride not more than ten minutes before. I shake my head. “Training has been a killer, and my body feels my age. But you know what? That felt like it always did. That felt good.” My knee bounces as I take a long drink of my beer. I always said I’d win this thing, but know it’s more than muscle memory and ego. I am gonna win. My body remembers how to do this, and my heart wants it more than it ever did before.
Tate nods. “They’re gonna put you on Twister again. Now that you’ve had him once, think you can break him again?”
“He’s wild as hell,” I admit, knowing full well as wild and successful as that ride was, my mind ain’t on Twister, or any other horse or rider out there. I twist my gaze, surveying the lawn behind us where Petunia and Alice are spread out on a blanket with Big Bertha and some Barbie dolls, playing peacefully. “The Montgomerys are coming to the rodeo in two weeks.”
Tate sits up in his chair and finishes his beer, tossing it lazily to the lawn next to us. “They can watch you win.” He shakes his head, knocking back his hat as he sinks into the lawn chair, kept together with my favorite poor man’s tool—duct tape. “Winnin’ that money with your bride on your arm, they’ll drop the suit, they’ll have to.”
I nod my head. “Your plan is working out.” I should be happy. I should be ecstatic. But I’m sour, bitter, grouchy, and horny.
“Yeah,” he says, celebrating with another beer. “It’s all finally coming together. You’re gonna win the money, you’re gonna keep Sadie, and all your stress is just weeks away from disappearing.”
Tate reaches into his little orange cooler, producing another long neck, passing it to me. “Cheers to you, Landry.”
I take his beer and clink mine against his, but I don’t feel like celebrating even though I know he’s right. In a few weeks, all my problems are going away. Life is good, getting better. But still, I’ve never felt as worried about the future as I do tonight.
“Tatum Daniel Collier,” Love shouts from the back porch. “The girls want to get going! You said one beer, and I heard that cooler open again!”
Tate leaps up, finishing his beer in an impressive two drinks. “You guys going to the fair?”
I glance back at the house, where Quinn and Sadie are inside making sugar cookies for Mabel’s birthday. “Yeah, we’re going. Not for another hour or so, but maybe we’ll see y’all there.”
My body is aching from yesterday’s exhibition, but I got a nice massage from Quinn last night. I’d hoped it would lead to more, but I ended up falling asleep, waking to her asleep against my chest. When I woke, I was glad nothing else happened. I stroked my big, ugly-looking fingers, taped and bruised from all my training, through her hair and dreamed of waking this way every day after this for the rest of my life.
At the sink, I fill my hands with cold water and splash my face, taking in my reflection. Bags line my eyes, and crow’s feet age me the same way the streaks of silver near my ears do. My neck is so sun-stung that it actually looks cherry-colored against the white flesh hiding under my T-shirt. I’m tired. I’m beat up and worn out. And I feel like I could sleep for two days straight.
Then Quinn knocks at the bathroom door and tells me that she and Sadie are ready to go to the fair, and I picture the three of us tucked into one of those swinging little metal boxes, turning lazy circles on a Ferris wheel that is questionably put together and run by an even more questionable man with black teeth and greasy hair. Even then, we’re smiling, and we’re happy.
I agree to go, because I may be wiped, but I’m also very much whipped.
I’d go anywhere or do anything she wanted, if only she asked.
The fair lights shine bright, like a thousand stars lighting up the sky, leaving Sable Sky blanketed in a warm, almost magical glow. Standing in line for the Ferris wheel, the warm evening air making Sadie’s cheeks a rosy pink, I look down at her tiny hand wrapped in mine.
“Daddy! The Ferris wheel is so big! Look! Look at it!” she hollers, eyes wide as saucers, jerking my arm as she jumps up and down next to me, pointing at it, ponytail swinging.
Quinn is next to me, her hip pressed up against mine, her long white sundress fluttering gently with the evening breeze.
“I know,” I tell her, “and it’s almost our turn.”
We took it slow when we got here over two hours ago, wandering past the livestock exhibits, Sadie forcing us inside to pet baby goats and fluffy sheep. Never mind that I’m a literal farmer, I petted the damn goats and sheep like my daughter asked. I was glad she dragged us in, because I found myself quietly watching Quinn and Sadie, knelt down together, feeding handfuls of pellets to a tiny little lamb. Watching the two of them together always fills me with that deep, quiet warmth, the one that whispers,This is it. And tonight has been no different.
After petting the baby goats, we headed over to the baby pigs, mostly because Sadie couldn’t stop talking about them. The draft horses were next, and Quinn listened to Sadie rattle off both real and completely made-up facts about them like every word mattered. I slipped my hand into hers and squeezed, trying to wordlessly thank her for how easily shefits, for how great she’s made life while she’s here, for everything.
Wordlessly sending messages through facial expressions and hand squeezes worked up an appetite, and after we left the animal exhibition we couldn’t resist cotton candy. Since it was already well after Sadie’s bedtime, the three of us agreed to split one. Sadie picked the biggest pink cloud they had spun and bagged, and Quinn giggled at me when I tried but failed to keep the cotton candy from dissolving in my scruff. She licked her thumb once, and dragged it down the corner of my mouth, making my pulse pick up. I caught her wrist, and placed a kiss in her palm before Sadie could see.
We hit the midway games next, enticed by the loud music, bright lights, and smell of fried, sugarcoated dough and youthful excitement. Sadie tugged us toward the ring toss game where they had a bunch of stuffed horses hanging in a net above, tempting the kids with what they could win if only they were able to defeat the unbeatable game.
Sadie spent eleven dollars trying to win herself a stuffed horse before she gave up, and Quinn stepped in. The first ring she tossed hooked the mouth of an old beer bottle and sunk down around the neck easily. The one-tooth wonder working the game stuck a ruler into the net and dug out a brown-and-white large stuffed Appaloosa, passing it to Quinn, who immediately passed it to Sadie.
