Page 23 of Hung Up
It’s a confusing feeling, one I still can’t really wrap my mind around.
The band on the other hand seem laid back and it will be a nice change of pace. If I can just ignore Denton’s flirting, the week might not be so bad.
I rock back and forth, taking in deep breaths, looking out over the dark pasture. Crickets sing their song and one of the barn cats slinks by, chasing shadows. Just as I start to stand to go back inside, I hear the screen door screech behind me.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Denton says, his voice low and timid. “Mind if I join you?”
I hesitate, then shrug. “Our home is your home for the week.”
He sits down next to me in the other rocking chair.
“This place is somethin’,” he says, looking out over the land. “Feels real.”
“It is,” I reply, a little sharper than I mean to. “This isn’t just a tour stop for us. This is our life.”
He doesn’t flinch. “I know. That’s kinda why I came.”
I side-eye him. “Still wrapping my head around that.”
He gives me a half smile. “Look, I meant what I said earlier. I’m not here to make anything complicated. I just want a break from the noise. And maybe I wanted to see you again… but no pressure. Just bein’ honest.”
I stare into the darkness, letting his words settle in the quiet. “You know,” I say after a moment, “people like you don’t usually stick around places like this.”
“Maybe I’m not people like me. You think you have me figured me out, Sorrel Saxxon?”
I don’t have an answer for that. He’s right. I don’t know him, and I am unfairly categorizing him into a group that may not be him. But that doesn't mean I’m going to just take his word for it.
After a while, he nods toward the guesthouse. “Well…guess I’ll turn in. Big day of cowboying tomorrow.”
“You boys better get used to early mornings and sore muscles. You ain't rock stars out here. There’s no partying all night and sleeping all day,” I say with a soft smirk, trying to lighten up a little.
He grins as he turns to go. “That’s why I’m here, Sorrel. Good night.”
He walks away, leaving me here on the porch, alone with the stars and the annoying little flutter in my chest I don’t want to admit is still there.
10
DENTON
We wake at the crack of dawn and follow the smell of fresh biscuits coming from the main house. Biscuits and gravy, crispy bacon, and scrambled eggs are out buffet style. We all grab a plate and dig in. If we keep eating like this, I‘ll be a few inches thicker by the time this week is over. Jo’s cooking beats the hell out of the sad gas station sandwiches and energy drinks we usually live on.
I hoped the coffee I drank this morning would perk me up, but now I just feel anxious and jittery. Even with a full stomach and night of rest, I can’t shake the nerves creeping in. I’m stoked for the cattle drive. I’ve been on the road so long I’m ready to be one with nature. No more bright lights and dark hangovers. My body needs a reset and I think this is exactly what will do it. But Sorrel has me all twisted up. I can’t get a read on her. I thought we had a spark at the rodeo, that easy kind of connection that doesn’t come around often… But maybe I imagined it. Or maybe the punch I took gave me a mild case of romantic dementia, who knows?
Either way, it’s time to cowboy up. I’m not gonna be just some tourist playing dress-up. I want to prove to her, and maybeto myself, that I’m not just the shallow country music star she thinks I am. I’ll make her see that if it’s the last thing I do. Denton Reed is no quitter. I wouldn't be where I am today if I were.
I couldn’t wait to get in the saddle. Sutton gave us a good berating for twenty minutes on safety and horsemanship. I was surprised she didn’t knock Johnny upside the head when he pretended to get on his horse backward.
Sorrel paired me with a young mare named Whiskey. She’s a cute palomino quarter horse on the taller side, but to my surprise she’s mean as hell. Every time I ask her to move forward, she pins her ears and swishes her tail. One of the ranch hands promised me she was the best ranch horse they have, but I’m not sure I believe him.
The saddle creaks under me like it’s trying to warn me—quit now while you can. I’ve rode horses before—broncs when I did rodeo, and putted around on my sister's old horse Tank. But this? This is a whole different experience. It feels like I’m driving a Ferrari, and I’m not sure which buttons are safe or which one might send me into launch mode. Lord help me.
The Montana sun isn’t even high yet, but my thighs already hate me, and I’m starting to think my cowboy hat is more for show than shade. Up ahead, Sorrel sits her horse like she’d been born in that saddle. Quiet, focused, and heart-stoppingly beautiful. She pays me zero attention, focusing on the task at hand. I’m not used to that. I’m used to women looking at me like I’m the damn prize. But Sorrel? She doesn’t bat an eye when I smile at her. Just keeps riding and ignoring me like I’m another tourist trying not to fall off.
“You cowboy’s good back there?” Ryder calls back with a smirk.
I throw on a grin. “Hanging in there. Saddle’s just gettin’ to know me is all.”
Everyone chuckles, and I let it roll off me. Humor has always been my go-to—it’s like armor. But I can’t stop the flicker of irritation in my gut. Not at Ryder. At myself. Because I don’t like being the rookie. I don’t like not knowing the rules. I built a whole career on looking like I have it all together, and out here… I’m all hat and no cattle. Literally.
