Page 67 of Slow Burn

“That’s a one-eighty,” Austin says.

“Please stay,” Sutton exclaims. “I’ve missed you, and having you back feels… it just feels right.”

“We’ll see, Sutton. There are a few things I need to work out before I can make a decision,” I add.

I thought I knew what I was doing coming back to Sage Valley. This would be a means to an end, a place to land while I pick myself up and dust myself off. And then I’d get back on the proverbial horse, head back to the city and back to the life I worked so hard for. The life I curated to be everything that Sage Valley wasn’t.

But last night with Beck has me rethinking everything, and I have to remind myself that whatever this is between us is new, fragile, and there are still obstacles for us to overcome before I can be confident in it.

I’ve made this mistake in the past, letting myself get swept up in feelings and emotions, leading with my heart instead of my head. It’s what’s gotten me in trouble in a lot of ways, but particularly with relationships. My emotions aren’t gentle nudges, they’re tidal waves, sweeping me and everyone else along for a ride.

I had decided this phase of my life was for growth, figuring out how to leash my impulses and beat them into submission. My heart isn’t trustworthy, despite how badly it’s pushing me, urging me to follow it into Beck’s arms.

This time, I want to take things slow, and use more discretion.

The one thing I do know is that I don’t want to be talking about this. I don’t need Beck to get scared off by me talking about staying in Sage Valley long term. Because even though he said he wasn’t going anywhere, I’ve had other exes say that too, only to get cold feet when I wanted to move things forward.

I turn to look over at the now-empty mechanical bull, the cute little blonde girl wearing a sundress and flimsy sandals getting up off the padded mats and dusting herself off. She hardly lasted ten seconds. “I think you guys are up.”

Beck follows Austin over to the bull, Austin raising his arms in the air to elicit a loud cheer from everyone in the bar. Sutton and Skye and I watch from our table, all of us holding back groans and eye rolls at the show they’re putting on.

When Austin gets on, he looks like a natural, one hand on the saddle horn and one hand in the air. It starts slow but gains speed, quickly accelerating and increasing the jerky motion. The cheering gets louder as Austin nears Beck’s previous time, and then his own, surpassing it with ease and earning himself a new personal best.

He jumps off at that point, throwing a fist in the air. “Yee fuckin’ haw!”

I cover my face and pretend I don’t know him, that I’m not related to him, as he approaches the woman who had gotten bucked off before him. He leans in close, and she looks like she’s about to melt at his proximity. I think she’s almost a puddle on the floor boards as he takes his hat off and places it on her head.

I know that move. That’s the move that tells everyone in the bar that she’s his for the night. I wonder if Beck also participates in the bit.

Beck is ready on the bull now, and the ride starts. His arms flex and tense as he hangs on, and the memory of those arms picking me up with ease, throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me to the shower last night makes a wet heat surge between my thighs.

My eyes are glued to his strong thighs, gripping the machine as it writhes beneath him, his hips rocking back and forth with the machine. I’m consumed with the thought of those hips sinking down between my legs and rocking just. Like. That.

The bar whoops and hollers as he beats his previous time. Everyone is transfixed by him as he passes Austin’s old record.

And then he gets thrown, landing on the mats with a thud. The crowd collectively groans, but it morphs into another cheer as he stands, looking victorious.

When they return to the table, they both have a sheen of sweat on them, Beck’s dark hair sticking slightly to his forehead from under his hat.

He never gave it to anyone, I think, my insides unclenching. Beck had a bit of a reputation with the ladies in high school, used to love the saying ‘wear the hat, ride the cowboy.’ He could pick up any girl he wanted with that move. Jealousy licks up my neck just thinking about it, because now I want to be the only one wearing it.

“Are you boys pleased with yourselves?” Sutton asks. “Defending a record no one cares to challenge you on?”

My mouth drops. “You’re joking. They’ve never been challenged?”

Sutton and Skye both shake their heads.

“Not seriously,” Skye answers.

I turn and eye the machine in the corner. “It can’t be that hard.”

Sutton shrugs. “A little core muscle and above average balance and you’d be fine.”

“It takes more skill than just core muscle and balance,” Beck argues.

I arch my eyebrow at him, chug the last few sips of my beer, and then stand, placing my hands firmly on the table.

“We’ll see about that,” I say.