Page 14 of Run For Your Honey

I probably needed to get used to the view.

6

NOT QUITE

DUKE

The arena was packed and humming.

Dust clung to everything, even the air, carrying with it the tang of livestock cut by tones of metal and straw. It looked like the entire town had turned up for the spectacle, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t disappoint.

City council had managed the affair, which would be slower than any rodeo I’d ever been to, breaking between each contestant rather than having us all lined up and ready to go. This way, we could watch each other make fools of ourselves.

Doug Windley first.

He’d drawn the short straw, then me, and Poppy last.

Mike Stoeffel, head of city council, was on the mic, reminding everyone to be sure to vote, and to come to town hall meetings so their voices could be heard. Doug was on his horse in the chute, bent over the pommel so he could hear whatever his coach was saying. Poppy leaned on the metal gate on the other side of the chute from me with Wyatt Schumaker at her side. He said something that made her laugh, lighting her up like the Fourth of July.

Envy streaked through me. I brushed it aside, turning to Evangeline. Her arms hung on the metal fencing, one boot hooked on the lowest rail, her eyes eating up our surroundings. She looked every bit the part, sliding gracefully from Chanel to Ariat, hair strung up in a ponytail through a baseball cap. She’d picked up a good pair of boots, jeans, and a printed long-sleeved button down, cuffed to her elbows.

Nobody around here knew she was like a sister to me, and they definitely hadn’t guessed she was a lesbian, judging by the mass of drooling locals tripping over themselves to get a better look at her.

She didn’t notice.

“Boy, this guy loves to hear himself talk, doesn’t he?” She nodded in the direction of the grandstand where Mike wagged his jaw.

“He fancies himself a big fish in the Lindenbach pond. Has no idea everybody thinks he’s a drag.”

Evangeline chuckled and glanced into the stands as Mike went on, and my gaze wandered back to Poppy.

Her head was bowed as she listened to Wyatt, her face obscured by the rim of her cowboy hat but for a slice of her jaw and lips. Her jeans were tight in all the right places, bunched at the bottom over well-worn boots, chambray shirt tucked into the waist. A thick rope of dark hair hugged her shoulder, hair I knew to be lush and wavy when unbound. I bet it smelled like magnolias. I loved magnolias.

That ship sailed, and you sent it off with cannon fire.

All the more permission to indulge in my appreciation, another voice in my head said. No chance of it going anywhere. Ever.

Poppy and Wyatt looked at me simultaneously as if they’d been talking about me. Wyatt gave me a nod and the flick of his hat brim. Poppy just looked smug. On noticing, I found Wyatt did too.

Nerves fluttered in my gut at the possibility of her meeting the challenge. I hadn’t realized I’d all but counted her and Doug out of the race until right then. Maybe it was just my deep desire to get her out of the way completely. It was too complicated with her on the other side.

Poppy said something, and the two of them laughed with their eyes still on me. And then they looked away like I meant nothing to them, which was fair enough.

Mike finally shut up, announcing Doug, who straightened and pulled to the front of the chute, piggin rope in his mouth and lasso in hand. The unsuspecting calf waited in the small chute next to him, looking around with docile eyes, no idea it was about to end up with a rope around its neck. Or not, depending on Doug.

The calf chute opened, and out it ran. Doug was off after it, swinging his lasso, his face tight in concentration. I knew he was going to miss before he even let go of the rope. Angle was all wrong. He hissed what I figured was a swear and coiled his rope, herding the calf back to waiting hands before resetting. Another calf was lined up and waiting, so as soon as he was ready, they let it go, and Doug followed. That time, it was close, looping around the top of the calf’s head and slipping off.

Red faced, he roared, riding to the grandstand where Mike was lamenting Doug’s loss.

“This is bullshit and you know it,” he shouted. “You can’t stop me from running for mayor because of some fucking rule from a hundred and fifty years ago. I won’t stand for it. They won’t stand for it.” He jabbed a gloved finger in the direction of the crowd.

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