Page 134 of Ride the Sky

As I wait for Wyatt, my phone rings. I swipe and answer.

“Hello?”

“Fallon McGraw?” a gruff voice booms.

I stare into the sunset. “One and only.”

“This is Chuck Dolan from the APRA.” My heart seizes. He goes on. “I know you’re currently recuperating, but someone putin a good word for you.” Over the line, the click of a keyboard. “We had an alternate spot open next month at an event in your hometown.”

“What’s the alternate spot?”

“Barrel racing.”

My breath hitches. It feels like a gift from the universe. A way to go back to my roots. A way to go home. A second chance. A fuck you to Pappy.

“Yes,” I say over the hard hammering of my heart. “I’m fucking in.”

After getting the details about the rodeo and exchanging emails, I hang up.

Guilt briefly flickers, but it’s quickly replaced by excitement. A month from now. I can be ready. Hell, Iamready.

Bootsteps behind me. I turn to see Tripp and his floppy hair exiting the Arcade. “Need a ride?” he asks.

“No,” I say, smiling as Wyatt pulls up at the curb. “I have one.”

“Whoa, easy, Trouble.”

I laugh as Fallon stumbles over her boots when we walk through the front door. She’s drunk, but not her typical burn-the-world-to-the-ground self.

“Water,” she gasps, limping into the kitchen.

As she drinks directly from the faucet, I slide a hand over her shoulder. Press myself up against her. “Have fun tonight?”

Her hazel eyes flash as she spins around. Trapped between me and the counter. “I did.” She pouts prettily. “But I missed you.”

Fuck if that doesn’t sock me in the gut.

“Missed you, too,” I rasp. Hands gripping her ass, I lift her and settle her on the counter. Her legs are bare. The skirt she wore to the arcade rides up her muscled thighs.

My cock pulses, straining against the zipper of my jeans. I reach out to test her temperature, smoothing her wild hair away from her flushed face. “You look so damn beautiful right now.”

Cheeks darkening, she arches into me. “Because I’m happy. I’m happy with you.”

I swallow past my tight throat. “I’m happy with you, too.”

A crooked grin pulls at her mouth. “I’m happy I talked to my sister. I’m happy I apologized. I’m happy I have secrets.”

“Secrets, huh?” My hands roam up her tattooed thighs. “Care to let me in on it?”

“Nope,” she murmurs. “Later.”

“What if I can’t wait ’til later?”

“Tough.” She studies my face, tilts her head. Her dark lashes lower, almost shyly. Then, in the warm glow of the kitchen light, she says, “Kiss me.”

“Really?”

Fuck. That came out desperate as hell, but I don’t give a shit. Whatever Fallon wants, she gets.

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