Page 83 of Storm Warning
“Where ya off in a hurry?” Rhett’s deep, familiar voice brings me back down from the ledge I felt I was hanging on. I swivel toward him and meet his brilliant white smile.
“I was looking for you,” I say, forcing a smile of my own to my lips while simultaneously trying to not show how much I want to leave. “But then the anthem started and it’s rude to rustle around during that.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I can think of plenty of other times and places that rustlin’ around would be much more appropriate. I don’t ride for a bit, but I had to toss my shit in my locker so that I wasn’t luggin’ it around. Sorry for keepin’ ya waitin’.” He tugs my hands, pulling me in for a hug. “This is a nice change of pace. I got two good-luck charms today.”
“Oh yeah, and what are those, Casanova?”
“Well, you, of course, and I also brought that lucky buckle ya gave me.”
Nausea hits me like a tsunami, flooding every part of my brain. I’m now regretting not taking the chance to talk about this when I had the chance. I should’ve brought my dad up, I should’ve made sure he knew it was no happy accident to find that buckle, but the light in his eyes stopped me in my tracks. And up until this point, I assumed we’d never be in the same place with him. I’m an idiot for believing that, or at least convincing myself to.
“Ya alright?” Worry creases around his eyes as he squeezes my hands.
“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed, there are a lot of people here.” It’s not a lie, the place is packed shoulder to shoulder. Contestants, animals, fans, and journalists all mill about, filling the space while a jarring disarray of conflicting sounds bounce throughout the arena. Music and laughter, grunts and cheers. It’s so damn loud, the noise seems amplified by my anxiety.
“It can be a bit much at first, but I promise ya get used to it.” Positive and gentle, like always, he brings warmth to my worry and nearly washes it away. Until a familiar face walks right behind him, turning the warmth to ice cold fury in the course of a single heartbeat.
51
RHETT - NOVEMBER 13, 2004
Despite all thebuzz and commotion of the rodeo around me, all I can focus on is Kaylee. She looks good, fucking gorgeous actually, in her bedazzled denim mini skirt and a white lace trimmed tank top. Her pink streaks are back, and as always, my sexy little angel smells like dessert.
A thrum of excitement pulses through my veins like a live wire. This is the first time she’ll see me ride, and I’m a man of confidence, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have pre-show jitters because of it. Despite wanting to impress her, this ride determines whether or not I’m in the running for PABRA. My winning streak has been non-stop, I’m back on top and feeling good. Especially now that I’ve got my girl beside me and my friends and family on the way. Tonight’s gonna be a good night. I can feel it.
“Lets go find Sawyer and Daisy or my parents so ya aren’t left alone when I ride.”
Kaylee’s soft hand loops with mine.We don’t even make it a full step forward when I feel her tense. Frowning, I turn back, only to find her concentration focused elsewhere. With a frown, I track my gaze to what she’s focused on.
None other than the man, the myth, the legend. Roy Slayton.
“Angel, are ya alright?” I whisper.
She remains quiet, and that’s enough for me to know that she is very muchnotalright. But why?
My eyes travel back toward Roy. He notices her, and, for a split second, he gives a look I can’t place. Squinting his eyes, it’s as if he, too, notices Kaylee. Does he know her? My mind whirls as I watch him grab the woman’s hand at his side while offering Kaylee a wink. And while the look isn’t flirtatious, there’s something unsettling about it.
One thing my girl’s got is fire, but as I turn back to her, I watch as the flames burn out in her hazel eyes, ice replacing it. She doesn’t have to say a word, their stare isn’t just a coincidence, and he sure as hell isn’t someone she wants anything to do with. And then it hits me...
This was never a coincidence.
Roy continues in our direction, and as if the devil himself came out to play, a young photographer notices us both the moment he arrives at my side.
“Oh wow, two riding legends in the same place! Mind if I get a picture of you both for my school paper? Can my friends stand in?” Kaylee’s grip squeezes tighter, damn near punishing in its intensity, before releasing my hand altogether. “Wait no, a rider is nothing without his cowgirl, your ladies should stand in too.”
Kaylee moves with poise, keeping her head held high and a neutral look on her face. But beneath it all I can see the hurt, the pain. So this is the dad who walked out on them. The man who broke her mother. Who made her build up her walls. Anger of my own sprouts in my chest, growing like a weed.
And suddenly, Roy Slayton isn’t a legend. He isn’t a great. He’s the dead beat dad who hurt my girl.
“Ready? One…” the photographer yells, snagging the attention of his friends and the crowd nearby. But I can feel the weight of whatever is happening next to me. She’s not ready for this situation she’s been thrust into, and I don’t know what to do. People shuffle on either side of us, making sure they put their best face forward, but not Roy, he turns toward us.
Slayton clears his throat.
“Long time no see Kaylee girl…” Each word is entangled with arrogance and the woman in front of him turns to look at us.
Man, they say never meet your heroes, and fuck were they right.
I never lead with anger, but from his cocky tone, to the sad look in Kaylee’s eyes, I can’t help it. If another word comes out of his mouth I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my mouth shut. Hell, I know I won’t. My gaze remains forward and he clears his throat. Not a single vowel escapes his lips as I cut him off. “Listen fuck-face not another word out of ya or I’ll give them somethin’ to really take a picture of.” I keep my voice hushed, but how serious I am is not.
