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I step into the ring as soon as the other guy exits.
“Good luck,” he mutters to me as his friends crowd around him.
One of them whispers, “Dude, that’sKyle Spencer!”
It’s a reminder that more than my age has changed since I last attempted this.
People—and phones—are everywhere, and I don’t love the idea of the announcement of my retirement from music being accompanied by a video of me falling on my ass. But I can’t back down now. I don’t want to.
Hoisting myself up goes smoothly, so I settle into the seat and grip the strap. Nod at the ride’s attendant, and it immediately starts rocking. I force my body to relax instead of tensing, following the movements. It’s a machine, not a mammal, so it’s fairly predictable. But the speed gradually increases, making it challenging even though I already know where it’s moving.
I’m distantly aware of the commotion around me, the occasional holler or whoop breaking through my concentration. But I don’t look toward the crowd until the bull is motionless and the ride is over, sliding off and shaking my hand a couple of times. There’s a good chance I irritated the cut on my thumb.
I forget about the dull throb when I step out of the ring and am surrounded by activity. The crowd around the ring has tripled in size, so it takes me a few minutes to spot Hudson and Tommy. They’re both grinning broadly.
“Hell yes, Spencer! Haven’t seen moves like that from you since high school.” Hudson punches my shoulder.
I grin back. “I’ve still got it.”
Then glance around. Duncan is standing a few feet away, talking to a couple of girls, but there’s no sign of anyone else.
“We lose some people?” I say when what I really want to ask is,Where’s Piper?
“Yeah.” Hudson glances at his phone. “A bunch of the girls went to the restroom. Guess the lines were really bad earlier.”
I nod, oddly deflated Piper didn’t watch, which is ridiculous.
“Morgan is going to text me when they’re finished. Come on. You deserve some ice cream after that performance.”
“Which one?”
Hudson laughs. “Both of them. Let’s go.”
CHAPTERTWENTY
PIPER
“You have fun?”
“Yeah, I did. Thanks for…inviting me.”
I’m not sure he explicitly did actually. It was just a forgone conclusion that I’d come—the same way I’ve tagged along every time he’s left the ranch lately.
Kyle nods an acknowledgment as he shifts the truck into drive.
I clear my throat just to break the silence that lingers, slipping my feet out of my sandals and tucking them under my dress. Sneak a glance at his impassive profile. He’s been quiet for the past hour, barely even smiling when I returned his hat to him. All I can figure is, he was coming off a postshow high, and now, he’s defaulted to barely tolerating me.
The words are right there—Your performance was amazing—but they won’t come out.
So, I settle for the next best thing.
“You weren’t bad on the bull.”
He glances at me, appearing confused. “You watched?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Although I was tempted to leave a couple of times, listening to the suggestive comments that were thrown his way. It was an easy yes when Morgan suggested heading to the restrooms as soon as Kyle dismounted.
