Page 103 of The Wildest Ride

And then he remembered her first time had been on a sleeping bag in the middle of a field.

He was a grown-ass man and the first time he’d given her had been worse than most high schoolers. He winced.

“AJ?”

He kissed the top of her head.

She tilted her face up, gaze questioning, and he caught her mouth with his own. She opened for him immediately and he almost growled. She was his, alright, and he would hold on—but first he needed to make up for her first experience being more akin to a pioneer diary rather than a fairy tale.

She settled against him, and he gave her shoulders a squeeze. Her breath soon took on the even rhythm of sleep, while he continued to stare at the overhead storage compartments.

Hours later, leaving her just before dawn broke, it was still on his mind.

She made a mumbled protest as he pulled away from her.

“Just a little longer,” she murmured, still more than half asleep.

He smiled. “I’m not supposed to be here, remember?”

She grumbled and he almost caved. Instead, he gave her another kiss and whispered, “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Go back to sleep.”

She smile-sighed and said sleepily, “Bye, AJ. I’m glad you came over.”

He smiled and ran his finger along her cheek before forcing himself to leave.

The morning light was really more of a dusky hint of brightness in the sky as he opened the door, but he still looked around. Seeing no one, he stepped outside and quietly closed Lil’s door behind him.

Together, they’d blown away the competition in the overnight challenge. Alone, she’d blown him away.

The arena show scheduled for later in the evening, hours and hours from this crack of dawn, would be the first bull ride of the tour—Lil’s first bull ride for the PBRA—and then, at the end of the night, every cowboy except for the final three would be sent home.

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Lil remained in bed for only a short while longer after AJ left before getting up herself. Between the high of spending two nights in a row with him and tonight being her first bull ride for the PBRA, she had energy to burn.

It was just too bad her granddad wasn’t around to see it. Not the AJ part, of course, but her performance on the tour. In the face of all this joy, the space he’d cut out in her heart felt bigger, more hollow than usual, a more insistent reminder of everything that was absent in her life.

He’d been there the first time she’d climbed on a bull and picked her up afterward. He’d been there the first time she’d ridden a bull for prize money, too, and comforted her when she hadn’t won. The ache that he wouldn’t be there tonight was as persistent as it was illogical. She wouldn’t be here if he were still around, and yet she wanted him with her more than ever.

But if she couldn’t have him, she could at least wear his vest, and through it, he would ride with her as if he could be there in person. Her grandmother, who was saving the trip money for the finale, was unable to come to this ride, but was there in it too, through her beadwork.

Once again she wore a fish braid. Something about the style’s fine lines always reminded her to keep her spine fluid. Her jeans were tight, thick, and stiff—just the way she liked them for a ride. Her chaps were sturdy and tough, but molded to her, like a catcher’s mitt to her hand. She was as ready as she’d ever be, and she looked good, too.

In all black, the vest was what caught the eye.

Despite wearing it for multiple rides now, not a single bead was missing, no strands of ribbon torn, loose, or out of place. Her gran didn’t mess around with anything she did, and her beadwork held strong. The woman didn’t believe in doing anything halfway and refused to accept it from anyone around her—especially those she raised. It was a hard standard to live up to, but all the more rewarding for it. Maybe that was why Lil’s mother had gone so wild.

A person could drive themselves crazy with maybes.

Maybe if Lil had been a bit more well behaved and agreeable as a child, her mother wouldn’t have dreaded coming home so much. Maybe if they’d known who her father was, her granddad could have run him down and forced him to do the right thing and they could have been a family, with folks in their proper roles—not grandparents raising children, parents in the grave.

But then she wouldn’t be here, with so many girlhood dreams coming true she wasn’t sure if she was even awake. For now, she’d take the waking dream.

In full gear, she was all crisp lines and presentation, fresh pressed and tucked, her boots polished. All of it was too much, and obvious, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d literally prayed for this night since she was a little girl.

She would die before admitting it, but she’d ironed and starched her jeans, luxuriating in every element of preparation.

For tonight’s show, she wanted to look cowboy to the core. The Closed Circuit wanted their marketing photos and recorded interviews to convey the full pageantry and magic of the rodeo, but in truth, reality rodeo was about as far away from real cowboying as it could get, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do her part. They were all there to ride bulls and win money, after all, and there wasn’t much more cowboy than that.

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