Page 168 of Ride the Sky

We sit in silence, processing everything. It all makes sense. Almost everything.

“Have you been leaving me flowers?” I ask.

“No.” He chuckles. “I got no time for a woman. No offense.”

“Ever think they ain’t got time for you?”

“She’s mean,” Weston remarks to Wyatt.

Wyatt grins. “She’s mine.”

The chime of Wyatt’s phone has him swearing. “Shit. I gotta take this.” He hops out of the booth and exits the bar to escape the blare of the jukebox.

Weston nods at my cane. “How are you getting on with that?”

“Better.”

Weston runs a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Let me ask you something. Cowboy to cowboy. When you started riding bulls, what were you searching for?” The question catches me off guard. His dark brows draw together. “Don’t tell me you weren’t looking for something. Everyone who gets on those man killer’s either searching for death or life.”

“To ride.”

“Not that. Deeper. Dig, girl.”

I run a hand over the tattoo on my arm. A rose-colored Annie Oakley stares back at me. My hero.

Deep. Deep. Why I ran. Why I’ve held myself back. From my sister. Wyatt. My heart.

“To not feel so alone.”

“And now? What’d you find?” His lips curve at my silence. “Close, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I breathe shakily. “I am.”

He nods his head. “Suppose I’ll see you at the Round-Up.”

At the wicked grin on his face, I put it together. I laugh. “You pulled the strings to get me that invite.”

“Thought you deserved another shot,” he grunts. “You ride like a beast. And you would have beat me that day if Pappy hadn’t rigged your ride.”

My heart pounds hard at the compliment.

Weston clears his throat, tosses a wad of bills on the table. “Glad you’ll be there. It’s my last ride.”

“But you…” I drop the pretense. “But you’re so damn good.”

He arches a brow. “Think I could get that in writing?”

I grin. “Not a fucking chance.”

Weston’s gaze flicks to the window. Wyatt, paces, phone still to his ear. “He doesn’t know you’re riding, does he?”

Guilt sears. “No.”

Thankfully, all I get is anidiot girllook, not a lecture. Weston stands. His eyes land on the ring on my hand. “You two ever need a place to crash up north, talk to me. I got you covered.”

Before I can say anything, he tilts his black Stetson and stomps out of the bar.

I sit back and exhale, taking it all in. Who’d have ever thought Cole Weston would have my back? But maybe that’s what makes the bullshit of this mean, old world worth it. Counting on someone you never imagined.

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