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And so, as with every morning, I’ve sat out here and watched him. Walker’s list saidConquer a bull OUTSIDE the arena, and I know Charles is the bull he meant. He always wanted to fuck around and try to get on the old crank’s back, but I wouldn’t let him. Told him he didn’t have a death wish. And I don’t either, but after defaulting on the ride the other night, I feel like I owe him this one. It’s not a buckle, but it’ssomething.
I just haven’t figured out how to make it happen without dying.
Even if I didn’t have Ghost Walker and his list of bullshit tasks pushing me to be a better human (that’s the result, whether he planned it or not), Winnie Sutton’s dirty looks would be motivation. Is this why he wanted me to be friends with her? Because he knew she would make me feel useless and lazy by comparison? Did he know how fucked up her home situation was all along? That the more I got to know her, the more I’d feel like a waste of time?
(Unrelated: I asked a confused Kerry to teach me how to do laundry, and I’ve only turned half of my clothes light blue, so I guess it’s going fine.)
I don’t think that was it. Walker was loyal. He always saw the best of me. It’s more likely he knewsheneeded a friend, too. I lost my best friend, but she doesn’t have one either.
Unless you count Mab. Which, I guess after seeing them together, I do. By my calculations, I only have to be more useful than a horse and I’min, which is not as easy as one might presume.
The only problem with this arrangement is the small matter of my attraction to her. Because let’s face it, Winnie Sutton is beautiful. Toned legs for days, soft hair falling to the middle of her slender back, freckles painted across her cheekbones. Dark, arresting eyes and a sexy smile. Obviously, she’s not interested in me in the slightest. She doesn’t have the time to be interested, and even if she did, I doubt I’m her type: useless, more money than I need, spends my free time arguing with the ghost of my dead best friend.
So that’s not a thing.We’renot a thing. Which is freeing, because it allows me to concentrate on being a good friend to her.Or, at least, to convince her to be my friend. Or to convince her towanta friend in the first place, useless as I may seem. But if I’m ever presented with the option of being a friend who also gets to kiss her, I absolutely volunteer.
I’d even throw away my pigheaded one-time-only rule for her.
(Okay, okay, fine, I’ll throw it away, anyway.)
Winnie Sutton makes me want to be better. Not to deserve her or anything so angsty as that. Just, I want to be okay again. Whole. Productive.
For now, I’d settle for not actively wasting away.
I’ve been getting up even earlier every morning and meeting Brody in the barn at 6:00 a.m. for training. This serves a twofold purpose: 1) It gives Brody time to trainwithme, side by side, before he has to go home to clean up for work. 2) It allows me to get my training out of the way earlier so I can help Winnie in the stables.
Even if, as my dad pointed out, it’s not my job and I’m not getting paid. Well, not any more than my already generous monthly allowance, anyway. I’m not telling Winnie that, though. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea and assume I’m doing this to be closer to her.
Because that’s only some of the truth, and I also don’t want to give my dad any reason to think I’m suddenly interested in ranching after all this time.
I’m well aware that to Junior, a future in the PBR would make it okay for me to not ranch. Gold buckles and riding bulls and drinking my grief away and rubbing some dirt on it… those are all acceptable. Those arebeing a man. If I won’t run livestock because I’m too busy making a name for myself mastering the circuit?
Well, fuck yeah, that’s the cowboy way.
I raise my protein shake to my lips, finishing it in one long gulp and grimacing at the chalky dregs at the bottom of the bottle. Charles’s tail flicks irritably, knowing I’m watching him again. I run the scenario in my head: waiting for him to come close to the fence, maybe even luring him over with some fresh grass, and then at the last second, jumping the top rung and launching myself onto his back. I’d need a rope. Something to loop around his neck, in a tight slipknot, and use it to hold on.
The thought makes my stomach compress and my palms sweat, adrenaline coursing through my veins at the mere thought. The timing would have to be perfect. The coast clear. My hands steady.
Not today, then. I head to the house and get in the shower. Tomorrow, I’ll try again.
After my shower and a quick breakfast of eggs and bacon, I spot a dust cloud coming down the long drive through the window. Winnie’s here. I rinse my glass out in the sink and press a kiss to Kerry’s cheek. “I’m off to the stables. Thanks for breakfast.”
Kerry huffs. “Hold your horses. I made you something.”
“You did?”
“I made it for you to share with Winnie. It’s cold out there this morning.”
I raise my eyebrows, my expression bland. “Yeah, I know. I was out there for two hours already.”
She waves me off, reaching into the pantry and passing me a delicious-smelling basket. I have no idea where it came from. It’s like one of those picnic baskets Dorothy carried inThe Wizard of Oz. The kind with the flaps that open and shut on top? There’s no way Case Jr. had one of those lying around. “Lemon poppy seed. Winnie’s favorite.”
I blink. “How’d you know?”
She clicks her tongue. “The girl’s worked here for two years, Case. You’re the only one who seems to have missed it.”
Seriously.
I take the basket and rush out the door, crossing to where Winnie’s parked. I’m surprised to see doors on both sides of the car open and also Garrett’s happy wave as she steps out from the passenger side. Something about her immediate acceptance of me, even after I let her down at the rodeo, gives me a sharp pang in the center of my chest.
