Page 59 of Riding the Storm
Shelby smirks. “Yeah, I wanna hear this too.”
I cross my arms. “What’s the question?”
Harleigh bites her lip, pretending to think. “Was he”—she pauses dramatically—“as good in bed as he is on a bull?”
The room goes dead quiet.
I try to glare, but a smile breaks through. I give in, lean forward, and whisper, “Even better.”
They both let out a breathy, “Damn.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
“This conversation isn’t over,” Shelby says. “We will need details.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Grandma’s voice calls up the stairs, “Girls, come on. They’re almost here!”
The two of them head to the door, and I turn back to the mirror once more. I pull my hair forward to cover the evidence and grab my black cowboy hat.
By the time we make it outside, the place is packed with everyone who knows and loves Matty. Wind chimes tinkle in the gentle wind, voices hum around the porch, and the bonfire crackles bright against the twilight sky.
Bryce is standing by the fire, beer in hand, talking to Axle and Royce. When his eyes meet mine across the yard, everything else fades. The noise, the people, even my sisters giggling beside me—it all blurs.
There’s a flicker in his eyes, something that says last night wasn’t a mistake, no matter what I keep telling myself.
I tear my gaze away before anyone notices, focusing instead on Grandma Evelyn, who’s waving us down from the porch. She looks radiant, proud, and excited for what the night holds.
I take in the platters of food and Imma Jean fussing with the cake. We walk over and see she’s adding the leather bracelet we picked up for Matty. Placing it around the molded horse’s neck like a bridle.
“It’s perfect!” she says, stepping back to take in her work.
“It is,” I agree. “Caison did good. Both ofyou did.”
We hear the rumble of a truck pulling up the long drive.
“Showtime,” Shelby squeals.
We hurry toward the edge of the yard, hiding behind a few parked cars with a group of friends and family. The truck door opens, and I see Caison helping Matty down, one hand over her eyes. She’s protesting, laughing, threatening to trip him if he doesn’t tell her what’s going on.
When they reach the porch, he finally drops his hand.
“Surprise!” everyone yells.
Matty freezes, eyes wide, taking it all in—the lights, the food, the flowers, everyone cheering her name. Her face blooms bright red, and her hand flies to her chest.
“Oh my God,” she says, spinning to glare at Caison. “What is all this?”
He just grins. “A surprise party.”
“I can see that,” she says. “I thought we had my birthday dinner yesterday.”
“We did, but my mom wasn’t there. And neither were your cousins or our friends.”
“Okay,” she stammers, still flustered.
Caison wraps her in his arms and kisses the top of her head. “I know you don’t like being the center of attention, but you’ll just have to accept it tonight. Because they all want to celebrate you too. Now, you hungry?”
She buries her head into his chest and nods.
