“Have you ever been to the hoedown after the rodeo?” Beau asks, pointing his fork at me.
I raise my brows. “The hoedown? I don’t even know what that is.”
His gasp is so dramatic, it draws the eyes of the next table over. “Then we gotta go tonight,” he says. “You’ve gotta attend at least one hoedown in your life.”
“It’s just dancin’ and drinkin’,” Ram offers as explanation. “The rodeo hosts it each night on the grounds. It’s not bad if you’re lookin’ to dive in deep. It’s worth a trip.”
I hesitate. “I don’t know.”
“Come on,” Beau encourages. “Alcohol loosens lips. Maybe you’ll get that scoop you’re lookin’ for.” He wiggles his eyebrows, teasing, and I can’t help but smile.
“Okay, okay. . . but what do you wear to a hoedown?” I ask.
Ram scores high during his bronc riding, high enough to leave him in first place. Tripp comes in second today, the top bull rider clearly doing his best to knock down the legacy. Beau had nearly made the crowd pee themselves when he’d almost taken a horn to the side. Luckily, the bull missed, but the entire arena thought he was for sure done for, including me. Despite the close encounter, Beau came out of it grinning, his eyes bright with adrenaline.
I don’t think I’ve ever met someone in such a hurry to meet the Grim Reaper.
Riding back to the room to get cleaned up and dressed for the hoedown is a silent affair, all three of the men exhausted after the day. It must get tiring doing the same thing every day, heading to a new rodeo, and then doing it all over again. I can’t imagine the toll it must take on them by the end of the season.
When I’d packed my duffel bag, I’d packed exactly one dress, a burgundy sundress that I’d assumed I wouldn’t need but brought just in case I needed to be on camera for an interview. It’s pretty enough, simple, and I realize quickly when I pull it out of the bag that I hadn’t brought any shoes to go with it. Combat boots are hardly the norm in these parts, but they’ll have to do.
I let the three men take showers first mostly because they’d actually sweat today. Me, I’d frozen my ass off while waiting for them to compete. The arena had been colder today than it’s been the last couple of days. Even with my jacket, I’d been cold.
When it’s my turn to take a shower, I leave the three men to get ready. It doesn’t take me long. A quick shower and some lip gloss is all I need. I don’t bother trying to style my hair. It barely holds a curl because of how straight it is so I just leave it down. When I step out in my dress, three sets of eyes turn to me with raised brows.
“What?” I ask, crossing my arms.
Beau recovers first, coming forward to grab my hand. He presses a kiss to my knuckles and looks up at me. “You look ravishing, little outsider.”
Shit. That’s hotter than I realized it would be. Now I understand the whole obsession with knights and gentlemen.
“It’s just a dress,” I muse, smoothing my hands down it. “It’s not even a good one.”
“Any dress is a good dress,” Ram says, smiling. “You look great.”
“That’s right,” Beau purrs. “Easy access.”
I snort. “Well, I’m about to ruin it with my boots.” I pull them out and sigh. “I didn’t bring anything else.”
Tripp watches me pull on the masculine boots with the very feminine dress. “It’s very you,” he says, surprising me. “You should wear your denim jacket, too. It’s cold.”
I glance at the patch-covered jacket and nod. “You’re right.”
The three of them are dressed relatively casually. Beau’s face is clean of face paint, though part of me expected him to wear it for an event at the fairgrounds. He’s dressed the most casual of the three, in clean jeans and a white t-shirt that says, “Hold my beer while I kiss your girlfriend” on it in red. His cowboy hat is perched on his head and that signature cigarette hangs from the corner of his mouth, but besides that, he wears no other ornamentation. I’m almost sad he’s not wearing his hot pink leather jacket, but he does top off his look with his heart-shaped sunglasses despite it being dark outside.
Ram and Tripp are dressed in jeans and button downs in different shades of plaid. Tripp wears red while Ram wears blue. While Ram wears no jacket, Tripp has a heavy Carhartt on that I’m sure is warm. They both wear their cowboy hats.
“Nice tie,” I comment and point to Ram’s bolo tie. He wears it in the arena, too. I’ve noticed that he rarely goes anywhere without it. The only time I’ve seen him without it is if he’s wearing a t-shirt or no shirt at all. The golden sun with a red jewel in the middle stands out starkly against the blue plaid of his shirt.
“Every good cowboy wears a bolo tie,” Ram says with a grin. “It’s classy.”
“So we ain’t good cowboys now?” Tripp asks with a raised brow.
Ram holds up his hands. “I don’t make the rules. I just follow ‘em.”
“Bolo tie argument aside, what about Bilbo?” I ask, gesturing toward the chocolate lab currently resting on my bed.
“We just leave the tv on for him,” Ram answers. “He really enjoys Animal Planet.”