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B: You asked for it. I’ll see you at five.
I see his smirking lips from here.
I’m greeted by a breathtaking smile as I open the door.
“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Battle drawls, stepping into my house. He oozes a sexy confidence this morning that makes my stomach drop.
“Good mornin’.” I smile.
“You ready to go?” he asks.
I nod. Battle takes my suitcase, and I trail behind him outside to a motorhome parked at the curb in front of my house. The enormous black vehicle with silver and cream design lines stretches the length of my house and covers my neighbor’s driveway. On the outside, it looks more like a coach bus than a motorhome.
“Cooper’s gonna drive this?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Coop lives in this.”
I don’t know why I find Cooper living in an RV odd. It makes sense, considering he travels frequently for the tour.
Battle opens a door in the middle of the motorhome and I follow him inside. After he sets my suitcase down, he glances at Austin who sits in a recliner off to the left. “Austin, you remember Faye.”
Austin lifts his chin in greeting. His eyes never leave the flat-screen television mounted to the wall in front of him.
The kitchen directly in front of me with granite countertops, stainless steel, and ornate tiles, not only puts mine to shame, but it’s considerably larger.
Cooper appears from a door on the right, wearing sweat pants and a white t-shirt. He smiles a boyish grin and waves. “Hey, Faye, nice to see you again.”
“It’s nice to see you again, too.” I smile.
He glances at Battle. “We gotta stop in Wellington and pick up Tuck.”
Battle shrugs. Something in his expression tells me he doesn’t care for Tuck.
“Tucker Ripley?” I ask. Cooper nods. “I thought he was finished ridin’?”
Tucker broke his back at The Saint Louis Fairgrounds over a year ago. Marty and I saw it happen live. About a month after the accident, I read that he wouldn’t be returning to bull riding.
“He changed his mind,” Cooper says before he and Battle exchange a glance.
“His funeral,” Battle says, shaking his head.
Tucker was less than a point behind Battle in the standings. He made a public promise to beat Battle that season. I wonder if Tucker returning is about settling the score. Whatever the reason, Battle is definitely not happy about Tucker riding with us.
“You’re right, B, it is,” Cooper says. “But I don’t want any shit goin’ down in here. You got an issue, take it outside.”
“I’m good,” Battle answers, his hands fisted and white knuckled on the table.
Cooper throws an arm around my neck. “Make yourself at home, darlin’. I’ll be drivin’, so don’t let these two slobs mess up my house.”
He points at Austin. “Especially that one.”
Austin flips him off without ever turning his head. His demeanor this morning conflicts heavily with the loud, good-time seeking cowboy from Dakota’s. He’s been so quiet, I forgot he was here.
“I’ll do my best,” I say. Cooper thanks me and leaves.
Battle picks up my suitcase. “Come with me. I’ll show you where we’ll be stayin’.”
We go through a door on the far left side into a bedroom, again, larger than my own bedroom.
