Page 72 of Awaiting the Storm
I glance over at Charli, and we both roll our lips to prevent from laughing at the scowl on Daddy’s face.
“Is this trout?” Grandpa adds as he cuts into thefillet.
“It is.”
“You couldn’t batter and fry it?” he grumbles under his breath.
Grandma swats at both of them with her napkin. “Don’t start. It’s fresh caught from cutthroat trout, right out of the Snake River, and it’s good for you, which is more than I can say for those sausage links Imma Jean keeps sneaking you two behind my back.”
Charli snorts. “It looks and smells amazing, Grandma.”
I hum my agreement and take a bite of the sweet potato—soft, roasted with just a touch of cinnamon. So delicious.
“Hmmm … tastes better than I thought it would,” Grandpa mutters a few minutes later, shoveling another bite of flaky fish into his mouth.
Daddy follows with, “Yeah. Fine. It’s pretty good.”
“Would it kill you to saythank you? It’s not easy, making this healthy stuff flavorful. I’ve been scouring cookbooks down at the library and watching all those shows on the cooking channel.” Grandma arches an eyebrow.
“Thank you, Mom,” Daddy says as Grandpa mutters, “Thanks, dear.” It’s begrudging but heartfelt enough to make Grandma smile.
Charli waits until we’re a few bites in before she drops the news. “Well, I just got off the phone with Shelby. They wrapped up in Cheyenne a couple of hours ago.”
All heads turn toward her.
“She and Jupiter finished second in the final run,” Charli announces, grinning. “Took home eight thousand six hundred eighty-five dollars.”
“Hot damn,” Daddy breathes, sitting up straighter. “That’s my girl.”
Grandpa lets out a low whistle. “Pretty darn impressive.”
“Axle placed third in bull riding,” Charli continues. “And Royce took first in steer roping. The family showed out!”
Pride swells in my chest. I can’t help it. My little sister—two years off the professional circuit and still able to cause a stir and bring home a decent-sized purse. She amazes me.
“Shelby said they’re driving straight through tomorrow night after the closing ceremonies,” Charli adds. “She wants to be back for the training session she has on the books Monday, which is insane. I told her I could handle it.”
Daddy leans back in his chair and gives a low, satisfied nod. “Shelbybringing home ribbons is gonna do nothin’ but boost our barrel racing client list.”
“That’s true,” I say, already mentally planning. “I’ll add a little feature on our website. Pictures of her and Jupiter with the ribbon and a congratulations message. Give the folks something to see when they click the training tab.”
“Put up some video clips too,” Charli says. “Shelby sent me a few that Cabe recorded of her final run. I swear it looks like she and Jupiter are flyin’.”
“Perfect,” I murmur. “Text those to me.”
All of their eyes come to me.
“I’m sorry. Did you saytextthem to you?” Charli asks.
I give her an exasperated look. “Yes. My phone is charging upstairs now.”
“Oh, wonderful! Welcome to the twenty-first century. Now I can add you to our group chat,” Grandma bellows.
Charli’s eyes glint with amusement. “You should be embarrassed by the fact that our sixty-nine-year-old grandmother is more with it than you.”
“Whatever,” I say as I roll my eyes and then glance at Grandma. “And don’t add me to the group chat.”
By the time the dishes are cleared, washed, and put away and the kitchen’s wiped down, the house has quieted. Daddy’s watching the news with Grandpa in the living room, both of them dozing in their recliners. Grandma’s humming to herself in her sewing room, and Charli is heading out to meet Elise at The Soused Cow.
