Page 65 of Slow Burn

Except for the sound of a clearing throat and a hearty chuckle behind me. Shit.

“That’s a walk of shame if I’ve ever seen one,” my dad says, covering his smile with his coffee mug as he lifts it to take a sip.

“What the fuck are you doing sitting in here in the dark?” I deflect by answering him with a question.

“Don’t like artificial light in the morning,” he answers, smug. “Not good for the old cardiac rhythm.”

“Circadian rhythm,” I grumble. “It’s the circadian rhythm, and you’re full of shit.”

“Fine,” he concedes. “I knew you didn’t come home last night, after being out dealing with the flood. But I didn’t expect this.” He gestures at my near-naked form.

I roll my eyes and turn to leave the kitchen, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an explanation.

He already knows. He lets out another laugh and says, “I told you that girl would be good for you.”

Chapter 26

Lyla

Lucky’s is crowded again tonight, as Sutton, Skye and I push our way through the crowd and manage to find a table for the three of us along the far wall. I couldn’t say no to Sutton’s invite, since I didn’t have an excuse. Beck gave me the day off after being out all night helping him with damage control. Besides, I’ve started to wonder if maybe making a few friends in Sage Valley might not be a bad idea.

After last night with Beck, the thought of having more connections here makes something in me feel a little bit fuller. Like maybe I could finally heal from the way I left Sage Valley all those years ago.

It’s not like leaving really did me any good, after all. I never truly fit in in the city either. Everywhere I go, I feel like I don’t belong. I’m beginning to wonder if it’s not so much a problem with me.

The issue might just be with my surroundings, like I’m a plant getting too big for its pot. But ever since I’ve been back in this town, I’ve started to see it in a different light. The day I drove back from Calgary after my interview, I felt it. As the cloistering atmosphere of the downtown core began to dissipate, the roads opening up into fields and wide open spaces, my heart had space to expand, too.

I finally had room to breathe, room to be.

Beck seems to do everything he can to give me more and more space, to never limit me, even when my own tendency is to limit myself.

The girls and I get seated at the table, and the waitress takes our drink order. I order a Corona, nothing strong and only one since I’ll be driving Sutton and Skye home later. They both go for a margarita.

When the waitress returns with our drinks, she no sooner sets them on the table than the bartender’s voice interrupts all conversation to announce the event of the evening. Lucky’s almost always has something going on–trivia, karaoke, or anything else to get people out drinking. Tonight, though, is the event the whole town comes out for.

Bar patrons can ride the mechanical bull for a chance at getting all their drinks for free.

“I forgot it was bull riding night,” Sutton says with an eye roll. “The last time I came to this was three months ago, when Beck reinjured his rotator cuff tear. I ended up doing very questionable human medicine in the stock room behind the kitchen.”

Skye laughs. “I mean, treating Beck can’t really be any different than treating a horse.”

Sutton shakes her head, before it whips over to the door as it swings open. “Oh good, tweedle dum and tweedle dee are here.”

I follow her gaze, my eyes landing on my brother and Beck walking–no, strutting–through the double doors, hands positioned on their belt buckles. A deafening uproar of hoots and hollers ring out in the tight space.

What is happening?

As if sensing my confusion, Skye leans over to me and raises her voice so I can hear her over the crowd. “Austin and Beck come every month to defend their ‘titles,’” she explains, making air quotes.

I nod, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Beck. His broad shoulders fill out his ridiculous button down. It’s a shiny black satin material with white tassels hanging from the sleeves. He’s wearing his black leather chaps with snug fitting jeans underneath. Austin is dressed in a similarly ridiculous outfit, except he’s wearing a tiger print speedo under his chaps, and everyone in the bar appears to be in on the joke except for me.

“Why are they dressed like that?” I ask Skye.

“Trust me, if I knew I would tell you. It’s part of the gag I guess,” she says. “But if I were you, I’d rather dump hot sauce directly onto my corneas than watch my brother ride the bull in a speedo.”

I nod, glancing over at Austin. “Pass me the Franks.”

There’s already a lineup for the bull. Surprisingly enough, people get very excited about being flung off for the chance at getting drunk for free. So, Beck and Austin grab drinks from the bar, and then make their way to the back, straight to where we’re seated.