Page 139 of Ride the Sky

All eyes in the bar are on us. Locals nod hellos, ask me how I am. Even with my cane, I don’t feel self-conscious.

“Fuck,” Beef says when he sees us. Frazzled, he leans over the bar to point at his favorite black chalkboard. Etched in chalk, it reads,DAYS WITHOUT A FIGHT: 120. “I’m countin’ on you, Wyatt. Don’t mess up my streak.”

Wyatt barks a laugh. “Whiskey and beer, Beef. And keep ’em comin’.”

Beef grumbles, “Got a new waitress, she’ll be right with you.” Then he winks at me. “Glad you’re back, Fallon. Attitude and all.”

I raise a middle finger but can’t keep the smile off my face. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way. Idiotically happy.

I move myself across the floor with my cane. Behind me, Wyatt. His heat. His scent. His eyes clock my route. My stomach shouldn’t drop at the act of protection, but it does.

The way he braces his front to my back and guides me through the crowd like a bodyguard makes me melt. And I’m not a girl who melts. But when it’s with Wyatt, it feels right.

We take a seat in a torn-up booth along the wall. Wyatt nods as I settle my cane beside me. “How’s it feel?”

I arch a brow. “Murderous.”

He gives a rueful shake of his head. “Don’t know what I was thinkin’ givin’ you a weapon.”

I laugh. “Scout’s honor not to use it on you.”

“That’s a first.” He leans back in the booth. “So, you’re almost done. What’s after PT?”

The smile slides off my face. The last three months I’ve been recuperating, learning how to use my leg, to ride again. When PT is over, life begins. But what even is my life? Not stillness, that’s for damn sure.

“Shit.” He swears. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No. It’s a good question.” I think of the ride in September. Guilt ripples. I decide to test out the waters. “I still want to rodeo.”

His throat works. “You oughta wait at least a year before you ride professional.”

My lips flatten. It’s not what I want to hear. And he’s probably right. But will I listen? Never.

We both jump as a bucket of beers and a bottle of whiskey slam onto the table.

I glare up at the interruption then blink.

“Holy shit.” I cackle as Sheena Wolfington stands there, dressed in a tight, black Nowhere T-shirt. “You’re the new waitress? Guess Beef’s really putting you to the test before you get hitched, huh?”

“Screw you, Fallon,” she snaps. Her eyes flick to Wyatt, and the memory of her and him, three years ago, curled up in this exact booth hits like a fist.

“There.” She smacks her gum, gestures at the drinks. “On the house. Courtesy of myfiancé.”

I throw her a mocking smile. “Don’t you have drinks to pour, Sheena?”

“Rather pour you poison,” she hisses then flounces off.

I look at Wyatt. “She’s such a buzz kill.” Across the bar, I lock eyes with Beef.Get rid of Sheena, I mouth, making a slicing motion across my throat.

A commotion at the jukebox attracts my attention. In addition to the regulars, there are new faces. Buckle bunnies, unfamiliar cowboys in from a rodeo most likely.

“Would you look at that,” I murmur. “No family members in sight.”

He snorts, sliding a beer and a shot my way. We clink drinks, shoot back our shots.

“Off doin’ that domestic shit they’re so fond of,” he drawls, pouring us each another shot.

I look at Wyatt sitting across from me. So damn handsome, so damn cowboy. A pang of hurt, of lust goes through me. For so long, I’ve wanted to be the one at his side, not Sheena, not some buckle bunny.

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