Page 86 of Rope Me In

I pull her back down to the ground with me, and we stare up at the smattering of stars across the cloudless sky. The wind is starting to get stronger, and I know we should head back soon, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to, that wants to stay out here holding Presley forever. That’s easier than facing reality.

“And what about you?” I ask after a few minutes, my hand rubbing down her back as I find the North Star by following the handle of the Big Dipper.

“What about me?” she asks.

“Are you going anywhere?” There’s a vulnerability in my tone I didn’t expect. While this thing with her is new, and I don’t know where it’s going, a nagging voice in my mind says I would be heartbroken if she left.

I feel her shift, and then she’s looking into my eyes. “Not right now.”

Her words soothe the voice temporarily, and a smile lights up my face that she matches with her own. I kiss her forehead then hug her body to mine. “Good. Because I don’t want you to.”

Chapter 28

Presley

You know that feelingyou get when something is going so well that you’re waiting for it to blow up in your face? That’s how I feel right now, but I’ve been trying to ignore it because I want to bask in the excitement of things finally going right after so long.

Kade smiles across the barn aisle at me, his ball cap turned backward on his head as he whistles a country tune along with the radio like he normally does while working. It’s been almost two weeks since our night at Devil’s Rock, and to be honest, I’m a little worried about him. He’s been…

Chipper.

When I first met him, I wouldn’t have used that word as a descriptor for him. Flirty? Yes. Annoying? Yes. Mostly salty and sweet? Yes. But chipper?

I’m not complaining that he’s happy—I want him to be happy—but sometimes I wonder if his new attitude is a way for him to mask all the pain and emotions he has inside him. Especially since I haven’t seen him touch a drop of alcohol recently, the crutch he tended to use before.

Again, I’m not complaining. I just know that talking about your problems once doesn’t solve them.

I’ve gently tried to speak to him about it, but he insists he’s fine, that he feels better than he has in a long time. He said that if he needs to talk he will, and I have to respect that, especially since he respects me in the same way.

A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips when I think about how patient and caring he is with me. He’s even gone out of his way to do things he knows will make me feel safe and comfortable, like buying me the brand-new pair of wide-calf cowboy boots that are currently on my feet. I cried when he put them on me—nobody has ever done something like that for me or gotten me such a thoughtful gift. They weren’t cheap, either, so knowing that he spent his money to make me comfortable is something I don’t take lightly.

To top it off, he started carrying an extra one of my calming inhalers in his pocket in case I forget to bring one with me or lose the one I have. But like Kade not drinking, I’ve found I’ve been using it less and less, to the point I’ve gone days without. Last night was the only exception.

When Jake asked me last week to play a gig with a few of his friends for their costume event tonight, I said yes. I was excited at the prospect of being onstage and playing my fiddle for more than just Kade. But the more I thought about it, the more anxious I got. Then, while I was practicing last night, my anxiety got the best of me, and I used the inhaler to stop the onset of an even bigger attack.

Kade asked me what I was so nervous about, and I couldn’t answer. It’s not like Night Hawk is the Grand Ole Opry. It’s a small gig in front of locals and customers; I shouldn’t be freaked out about it. But it’ll be the first time I’ve played in public since leaving the band, and I want to do a good job.

“Are you thinking about the gig tonight?” Kade calls over to me.

The sounds of other ranch hands and country music whooshes back into my ears, and I’m reminded of where I am. I also realize I’ve been sifting the same pile of shavings for probably five minutes now.

I smile sheepishly at him as he walks—with a pep in his step—across the aisle and props his pitchfork on the doorframe so he can put his hands on my shoulders. He’s sportinga lopsided grin on his face, and there’s light shining in his hazel eyes. Like I said, chipper. But who knows? Maybe I am overthinking his new attitude. I’m not used to being around happy people. I’m not used to being happy myself. And Kade, he makes me happy. Really happy. Maybe this attitude is because I make him happy, too.

He shakes me playfully, and my cheeks flush. “Sorry, I was thinking about it.”Among other things.

He chuckles, squeezing my shoulders. “You have nothing to worry about, Lemon. Even if you got up on stage and completely bombed, which we know you won’t, everyone will love you.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Not ridiculous—I’m just speaking facts. You’re going to do great. I can’t wait to cheer you on.”

I blush, a permanent side effect of being around Kade, and picture him front and center tonight wearing this goofy smile of his.

Like he knows what I’m thinking, his grin gets wider. “You know, I have an idea about how to take your mind off it for a while.”

I quirk an eyebrow at him. “What is it?”

He steps back and rubs his hands together excitedly. “It’s time to go eat lunch before we preg-check some heifers!”

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