Page 7 of The Playboy's Playbook

“Glad you could make it, man!” my friend, Issac, shouts over the loud chatter of the crowd.

“Thanks for inviting us. I completely forgot about the rodeo this weekend.”

Isaac and I played football together in high school and he’s been my boy through everything, much like Luke. When I got in trouble, Isaac had already moved to Texas for work, but if he was here back then, he would’ve bailed my ass out.

The dusty air in the arena begins to kick up a little and the stands start filling up more, people finding their seats and greeting others. The music tones down as the announcer finally comes over the intercom to officially announce the start of the rodeo. The lights dim and the first bull rider approaches the pen. He climbs up and gets ready to go, waiting for the gate to open.

Completely mesmerized at the sight, Clay sits silently, his wide eyes keeping up with the bucking bull. After a few seconds, the rider gets knocked off and the rodeo clowns get the bull’s attention so the rider can get to safety.

“Could you ride a bull, Uncle Matty?” Clay asks while everyone resets for the next rider.

I chuckle. “Oh, absolutely not.”

“I wonder if daddy could?” Clay follows up before taking a bite of his funnel cake.

I bark out a laugh. “When your dad gets back, ask him about Buffy. You’ll have your answer.”

Clay nods his head and we both turn our attention back to the next rider when a flash of white catches my eye. I look in the direction and feel the air leave my lungs.

Clay starts cheering for the rider but my eyes are laser focused on the girl with dark curly hair sitting directly across from me in a white top and an equally beaming smile as she cheers on the rider.

Laila Wright.

During the intermission, Clay said he needed to use the bathroom and that’s when I finally tore my eyes from Laila. She’s grown to be so beautiful – it was hard to look away. She didn’t notice me the entire time, which I was thankful for because I would’ve turned into a puddle if she did.

“Alright bud, let’s head back.” I place my hand on top of Clay’s hat to guide him back to our seats to watch the barrel riding competition when that same flash catches my attention.

Laila is standing ten feet away, engaged in a deep conversation with a group of girls – some of them I recognize as our high school classmates. I nervously and audibly gulp, catching Clay’s attention.

“Uncle Matty? Are you okay?” Clay asks.

I nod, my eyes still on Laila as I study her features. The last time I saw her was when she walked across the stage to get her diploma when we were in high school seven years ago.

Clay, being a smart kid, follows my gaze, and turns to look back up at me with a knowing smirk dancing across his face.

“She’s pretty. Go say hi.”

“No!” I rush out, reaching down to grab his hand to guide him back to our seats. Clay pulls his hand out of my grasp and begins walking over to Laila.

She’s broken away from her group of friends and looks like she’s about to leave the arena when Clay steps in front of her, blocking her exit.

“Hi, ma’am. I’m Clayton Turner, but you can call me Clay,” he says, sticking his hand out to shake Laila’s. She chuckles and boy does her laugh sound like angels singing from above.

“Hi, Clay. Nice to meet you. I’m Laila Wright.” Her voice is a bit deeper than it was in high school – more mature.

“Pleasure is all mine, darling. Do you know my Uncle Matty?” Clay asks and I shake my head telling him to cut it off, but he ignores me.

“Uh, I’m not sure. Who’s your Uncle Matty?” Laila questions. Clay nods behind her and she turns to face me. It’s like the world stops and everything disappears when her honey brown eyes meet my blue ones. Finally, my voice finds me as I manage to speak.

“Hey Laila.”

Chapter Four

LAILA

When Erica suggested we go to the rodeo on my first night home, I knew I should’ve said no and stayed in with Nola. I only agreed because Erica said that the bull riders are hot and I might meet my future husband.

What I didn’t account for was running into so many people from high school. After we graduated, I packed my shit and got the hell out of Alabama with no intentions of returning.

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