Page 68 of Riding the Storm
“How so?”
“Because whiskey gets people in trouble.”
I laugh. “You saying I get people in trouble?”
She doesn’t answer, but her mouth twitches like she’s fighting a smile.
When we reach the airport, Cabe pulls up to Departures. I hop out and grab our things as Cabe rounds the truck.
“You got everything?” he asks as I toss my bag over my shoulder.
“Yeah, man. Thanks again for the ride.”
“Well, y’all have fun while I’m slaving away,” he says as he hugs Charli. “I sure wish I were going with you.”
“I wish you were going instead of me,” Charli mumbles under her breath.
I roll my eyes.Stubborn woman.
I push open the door, and she walks in ahead of me as I haul her suitcase for her.
She looks up. “Thank you.”
“Look at that. The coffee must be finally kicking in,” I muse.
She ignores the comment.
We make our way through TSA to the gate. Our flight is on time, which is good because we have a tight connection at Dallas Fort Worth International Airport. Normally, I don’t do connections. I’ll pay whatever it takes to avoid layovers and aircraft switches. But that’s the problem with nowhere, Wyoming. There’s no such thing as a direct flight to or from Jackson Hole.
We board, and the look of delight on Charli’s face when she realizes we’re in first class warms my chest.
“I’ve never flown up here before,” she says as she tucks her purse in the overhead compartment.
“See, we’re having fun already,” I say as I follow with my duffel, allowing her to slide in next to the window.
“I’m not going to have fun.”
“Come on, Chuck,” I say as I settle in the seat beside her. “You can have a good time. The sponsor is having a dinner, celebrating the announcement. Free food, good music. Lots of whiskey.”
“It’s not a date, Bryce.”
“Didn’t say it was. Just saying you might enjoy yourself. Rodeo weekends are a blast. Full of excitement.”
She finally smiles—barely, but it’s there. “I’m sure they are. That’s why I’m here to keep you away from temptation.”
I lean over and look her in the eye. “That’s gonna be hard. Don’tcha think?”
She meets my gaze. “And why’s that?”
I’m saved from answering when the flight attendant interrupts to ask for our drink orders. I get a whiskey, and Charli goes for the milder morning option of a mimosa.
By the time we land in Dallas, my phone’s already lighting up with texts from Shawn and Dry Canyon’s PR team. Meetings, schedules, wardrobe fittings. But all I can think about is Charli—and that single hotel room I haven’t mention to her yet.
And that’s where the real temptation lies.
Because as much as I tell myself this is a work trip and to focus on the job, the reality is simpler and more dangerous.
Every time I’m near her, I forget about all of it.
