Page 13 of Sexting the Cowboy
Yeah. She’s interested.
I know it the way I know how to stay on a bull—from instinct, from years of reading small movements and knowing exactly what they mean. She’ll text. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but she’ll think about it.
I’m still grinning when someone claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Dad,” Levi says, voice low and amused. “You realize I just watched you flirt like a teenager, right?”
I turn to face him, pretending to look offended. “That’s called being friendly.”
He nods toward Annie, who’s now half-hidden by the crowd. “Friendly looks a lot like flirting.”
“You know how it goes at these things,” I say, slipping my hat back into place. “You should always make nice with the on-site doctor.”
Levi smirks. “Sure. That’s what that was.”
“Don’t start,” I warn, but he’s already laughing.
“You’re lucky Blaze didn’t see that. She’d post it with the captionDad shoots his shot.”
“Blaze doesn’t need more ideas,” I say, grimacing. “She’s already a handful.”
He grins, all white teeth and youth. “You love it.”
He’s right. I do. Even when she drives me crazy.
I start walking, and Levi matches my pace. The dust swirls around our boots, glittering in the sunlight. The fairground’s buzzing louder now, the sound of another event kicking up. Somewhere out there, the announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, calling riders by name.
It’s good, this noise. It’s familiar. But for a moment, I feel a tug in my chest that’s got nothing to do with bulls or crowds or the ache in my knees.
Sixteen years. That’s how long it’s been since Vicki died. Sixteen years of one-night stands and short-lived flings. Technically only ten—I couldn’t wrap my head around being with another woman for the first six years after she was gone. Ten years of pretending that keeping my heart locked up is the same thing as honoring her memory.
Vicki and I met in middle school, alphabetized into fate—White, Wyatt. We grew up side by side, built a life before we even knew we were building one. She gave me four kids and a reason to keep riding. And then one bad drive home after a show, one truck that didn’t see her coming, and it was just…over.
I haven’t been in love since. I’ve been careful about that. Careful not to get close enough for anyone to matter.
I don’t like that thought. It feels dangerous now, like I’m dooming myself somehow. So I shove it back down where it belongs.
Levi waves a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Dad. You zoning out again?”
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About how your sister’s probably driving Ford crazy right about now.”
He laughs. “That’s a given. But seriously, you okay? You looked…I don’t know. Weird.”
“I’m fine,” I lie easily. “Just a long day.”
He studies me for a second, then shrugs. “Blaze is up soon. We should head over.”
“Right,” I say, clearing my throat. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
We turn toward the arena. The crowd noise swells as we get closer, that familiar rush of anticipation before the gates fly open. I slip my hand along the brim of my hat, put on what my kids call my “Dad smile”—the one that says everything’s fine, even when it isn’t.
Levi doesn’t notice. He’s already scanning the lineup, excited and proud of his little sister.
I match his energy, laughing when he nudges me, pretending like my head isn’t still full of a woman with dust on her jeans and pink lemonade on her lips.
