Page 67 of Riding the Storm
“It’s not that big of a deal. Just don’t dally in the bathroom. Girls hate that. They need more time to get ready than men do.”
“Thanks for the advice. It’s so fucking helpful,” I quip.
“Relax, Ry. It’ll be okay,” he says. “Besides, you won’t be in the room but to sleep a few hours anyway.”
I doubt Charli will see it that way.
“Fine. Thanks for getting her in first class with me.”At least there’s that.
I click off just as a text comes in from Matty.
Matty: Cabe will drive you and Charli to Jackson Hole in the morning. Be ready by five.
Five.
Why does every damn flight in and out of this place have to be at the crack of dawn?
The morning comes too early. The porch lights are still on when I step outside with my bag. The air’s cool and thick with dew. Cabe’s old Ford is idling near the barn, headlights cutting through the haze.
Charli doesn’t look in my direction as she appears from the main house, dragging a suitcase behind. I hurry to help her lift it into the bed of the truck. The damn thing must weight fifty pounds.
“You do realize we’re only gonna be gone a few days, right?” I say as I toss my duffel on top.
“I know,” she says as I open the door.
She hops up, and I shake my head as I shut her in, then open the back door and climb in behind her.
“Morning,” Cabe calls cheerfully.
“Morning,” I offer in return, but Charli just grunts a response as she buckles herself in.
The silence stretches as the ranch disappears behind us. The only sound is the hum of tires and the occasional rattle of the old truck’s dash.
“Sorry to get you out and about so early, man,” I say. “I could’ve called a car.”
Cabe keeps his eyes on the road. “Yeah, that’s not really a thing around here. Besides, I don’t mind. It got me out of morning chores.”
Charli grunts again.
“You all right there, Chuck?”
Cabe sighs. “She’s always this pleasant before she’s had coffee.”
I chuckle. “Fair enough.”
For a while, none of us says anything. The highway winds through the valley, the Tetons just visible in the early light. Cabe pulls off when he sees the sign for a tiny drive-through coffee shop. It’s about the size of an outhouse, but the lady is nice, and the coffee is strong and hot.
“So, what’s this thing in Oklahoma?” he asks as we make our way back onto the highway.
“Rodeo weekend. Sponsor event. Dry Canyon’s announcing my partnership with their new Bull Rope Whiskey brand on Sunday night.”
“Seriously? That’s badass!” Cabe says.
Charli glances at me over her shoulder, surprised. “You’re gonna be the face of Bull Rope Whiskey now?”
“Apparently so.”
She huffs. “That’s fitting.”
