Page 44 of Beat around the Bush
He took it and tossed his head back, taking a long pull.
“Long day?” I asked.
He leaned back, draping his arm over the back of the couch with his beer propped on his knee. “No.”
Callan always got nervous watching our brother Beckham ride broncs. Callan had a big heart, and seeing someone he loved put himself in danger for fun always made him anxious.
The camera moved to Beck propped up on the chute about to get on the back of a bronc while the announcer’s voice boomed over the TV, announcing where he was from and howmany points he’d accumulated throughout the season. This was Beck’s last show before he got to come home for the winter, and we were all eager to see him for this longer length of time instead of just the usual few days here and there during the season.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Callan shaking his head the slightest bit. He always supported Beck, but that didn’t mean he had to like what he did.
On the TV, Beckham mounted the clearly agitated gelding and adjusted his hand on the rope. Once he was situated, he nodded once, and the gate flew open. The horse took off, angry as all hell. He bucked like no other, doing everything he could to get Beck off of him, but Beck held strong, rocking back and forth with the momentum rather than fighting it.
Too long later, the eight-second timer buzzed, and the two pickup men rushed to get Beck off the bronc. He’d score high with how mean that horse was, which I’m sure he was thrilled about guessing by the big smile on his face.
Beck looped an arm around the waist of one of the men and swung off. Callan clicked off the TV before they could announce his points, clearly only watching it to see that Beck was okay.
“What about you?” he asked, returning to our previous conversation before Beckham came out.
“Long doesn’t even begin to describe it.” I took a swig of beer, wishing it was something stronger.
“Oakley okay? You never updated us on how she was.” I’d forgotten I’d left Reed’s house in a hurry after she’d called, giving them minimal details about why I was leaving.
“She is now. Any longer and she probably would’ve got frostbite. Her car’s in the shop with Wyatt.”
“Any idea what’s wrong with it?” he asked.
“Not sure. It could’ve been from sliding off the road, or when she hit me.”
His eyes widened. “She hit you?”
Shit.
I scratched the back of my neck under the bill of my cap. I thought about the way Oakley’s eyes always heated when my hat was backwards and my lips twitched.
“She rear-ended me the night before her interview.”
“That girl’s got a bad track record with driving, it seems,” he observed.
That was the understatement of the century. I was surprised Oakley made it from Denver to Bell Buckle in one piece.
“I just feel bad for how I treated her at the rental place. I was so damn scared she was hurt, Cal.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“I know the feeling. The not-so-fun perks of caring about someone. But if you feel bad, just apologize to her.”
I looked over my shoulder at him where he sat on the other end of the couch. “That easy?”
He nodded. “Girls love when you take ownership of the shit you did wrong.”
I scoffed, hanging my head. “Says the guy who hasn’t been in a relationship in years.”
He picked at the label on his beer. “I’m just focusing on my career.”
“You sound like me,” I muttered.
“But seriously, invite her over to Mom and Dad’s or something.”
I looked over my shoulder at him. “Tomorrow night?” My parents always had monthly dinners for us all to get together and catch up. Family was a big thing to them.
