Page 25 of Lone Wolf in Lights
“It’ll do,” Willow said with a nod.
Eli kept on adding the circular candies that looked like pearls to the top of the gingerbread house like Willow had instructed him. He liked this, being with her in public, regardless of if it was real or not. He’d thought on Sally’s suggestion about the rodeo more and knew he couldn’t pass up the chance at winning that money. A large donation for the shelter. Willow was doing her part, and he wanted to do his. “So, I’m doing a thing tomorrow and wondered if you’d want to come.”
Willow’s brow lifted, her hands covered in icing as she froze with the piping bag in her hand. “What is it?”
“I’m going back to the rodeo tomorrow night,” he said, watching her expression closely.
He liked the worry he found there. “Rodeo? You mean bull riding?”
“Yeah, but not for the reasons I used to go in the ring.” Eli took a deep breath, placed another candy on the roof of the gingerbread house. “When I talked with Sally, she told me about the local rodeo where you could win five grand. Figured I could add to the donation to Haley’s Place if I claim the prize.” He smirked. “Which, of course, is not guaranteed. I could hit the dirt and fast.”
Willow’s eyes softened. “As long as you won’t get hurt, that’s an amazing thing for you to do.”
“Then you’ll come and cheer me on?”
He watched the emotions play across Willow’s face, the earnest concern in her eyes giving way to something warmer. The bakery, with its sugary scents and cozy warmth, seemed to shrink around them.
“Rodeo isn’t exactly my scene,” Willow began, her voice carrying a lilt of amusement. “But I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Even if it means trading bar stools for bleachers and cocktails for dust?” Eli teased playfully.
“It’s nice to get a little dirty every now and then,” she retorted with a smirk. Until she blushed as it dawned on her what she had said. “Er—I didn’t mean it like that...”
He raised an eyebrow.
Rolling her eyes, she tried to change the subject. “Let’s just focus on building this gingerbread house, okay?”
He chuckled in response, a low rumble. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”
Eight
Late the next evening, Willow’s heart raced with the distant stomp of hooves and the cheers that erupted from the arena’s core. Guilt followed her with every step for again leaving Charly and Aubrey to manage the bar, so she only tagged along for Eli’s ride and planned to return to work afterwards.
The indoor rodeo showgrounds were a bustle of activity, with cowboys and cowgirls walking around in their hats, boots and chaps; horses being led to the corrals and the rodeo arena set up with barrels, ropes and bucking chutes. Flags and banners advertised the sponsors of the event.
Willow was settled in next to Jaxon on the bleachers, leather and livestock scenting the air. The clang of metal gates echoed, merging with the announcer’s booming voice and the occasional rebel yell from a cowboy psyched for his turn.
“Got us some snacks,” Gunner announced, a grin spreading across his face as he handed her a frosty beer and a fry bread taco piled high with seasoned beef and vibrant salsa.
“Thanks,” she said, as Gunner sat down on the other side of her. She took a generous sip of the cold beer as she sat beneath large overhead heaters keeping her toasty warm. She then bit into the taco, the flavors exploding into her mouth—spicy, savory and utterly divine.
“God, this is good!” she exclaimed between mouthfuls, a laugh escaping her lips as sauce dripped onto her fingers.
“Nothin’ better than rodeo food,” Jaxon said with a full mouth. Once he swallowed, he asked, “Coming to the ride tomorrow at the ranch?”
The Sunday late afternoon rides had become a ritual lately, as was dinner after. Willow knew Charly missed living with her and Aubrey, and suspected this was Jaxon’s way of ensuring she saw them often outside of work. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good,” Jaxon replied. “It’ll be cold, so dress warm.”
“Oh, I will, believe me,” Willow said, taking another bite of her taco.
The echo of the announcer’s voice signaled the start of the Mutton Busting event, and Willow’s attention snapped toward the chute where a child, decked out in an oversized helmet and a vest padded for protection, climbed onto the back of a patient sheep.
“Is he riding it—”
She was cut off as the gate swung open and the sheep trotted into the arena, the pint-sized rider clinging on with a determination that mirrored the boldest of cowboys. A collective “aww” rippled through the stands as the little one managed a few bouncy steps before tumbling gently onto the soft dirt, greeted by cheers and encouraging applause.
“How freaking cute!” Willow gasped.
