Page 13 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
Story of my fucking life.
But I’m not too busy tonight to have a throwdown with her. And I came fully prepared.
“Jade is right,” I say, leaning forward slightly, letting the words sink in before I drop the bomb. “But the route she mapped out adds extra miles. I suggested a more direct route that would save the crew a solid hour, but you know how she is.”
Dick move.
I know.
But my little jab scrounges a handful of snickers from the crowd because everyone knows how set in her ways savage Jade is.
“That’s rich coming from a guy who high-fives his own reflection,” she mutters for only me.
The mayor dips his chin in agreement. “Good to know. Shortcuts matter on a tight schedule, and we’re on a tight schedule.”
I steal a quick look. Her shoulders tense to almost a breaking point.
“Make sure y’all agree on that before you roll out. And camping? Everything confirmed with the rodeo organizers? Check-in times clear?”
Jade jumps in again, trying her best to maintain her control. “Camp’s all set. I called the office myself to double-check.”
She’s fighting it, but I can see the color rise in her neck, the tension building as she waits for my next move.
It’s like a dance now, and I’m leading.
“Jade forgot to mention they do have scheduled load-in times starting at ten and ending at four.” I think I’m enjoying her struggle to hold her composure more than I should. “The RVs must be inside between that timeline or wait until the next morning. They don’t allow arrival after that time for safety reasons.”
The way her eyes flash whenever I shut down her points is like watching a slow burn. And damn, if it isn’t satisfying.
“Another reason to take the quickest route.” The mayor flips the page with a light rustle. “We don’t want any crossed wires. Remember, you’re representing the whole town out there. I expect y’all to keep it respectful, professional, and no slip-ups. We don’t want any reason to be embarrassed.”
The only embarrassing thing is this requirement to check in with the town.
Jade tightens her grip on the pen, like she might snap it in half any second. Or stab me in the neck. I wouldn’t put her past either at this point. I’ve pushed her. Hard.
“Have you and Jade changed your minds about attending the rodeo?” Wilma Quylt, town council member slash local matchmaker, flashes her trademark scowl.
Ironic. Isn’t it? Scowling while trying to dispense love advice.
It never fails.
The older woman is built like a fence post and twice as sturdy. Her pressed jeans, polished boots, and pearl-snap Western shirt say she means business, even when the business is love.
“It would be a wise decision on both your parts.” Silver hair pokes out from under her well-worn Stetson.
While her suggestions sound as casual as asking about the weather, Wilma Quylt doesn’t speak just to hear herself talk. She speaks with purpose.
And she’d better check herself, because I’ll tell you right now, Jade and I are not about to get caught up in one of their matchmaking schemes.
Before I can come up with a polite way to shut that idea down—let’s be realistic, it wasn’t going to be polite—Wilma’s sister speaks up.
“Why, yes. I do believe you both should attend.”
Maybe she should attend. She’s dressed to go.
Her rodeo-themed outfit is an explosion of rhinestones, fringe, and cowhide appliqués. But it’s the flashy Kentucky Derby hat that always steals the show. Perched on her hat is a tower of coiled rope stacked so high it looks ready to topple over, with mini bull rider figurines mounted to sequined bulls.
“The milestone of seeing your work bloom will be something to treasure.” She smiles like she’s the one in love. “Even sweeter when sharing it with one another.”
