Page 54 of One Last Rodeo

And lately… I’ve been stupid enough to hope Catalina didn’t think that about me. That she saw past all that. That she didn’t only see the wild, messy guy who crashes into her life with pizza on a plane and stains on his shirt. That maybe I was becoming more to her than a fling or a rebellion or a chapter she’d laugh about someday. It felt like she cared aboutme.Not just the athlete she had to mend, but me the guy who has personality outside of bull-riding.

But watching her across this bar, giving this guy a real smile, ease dropping from her shoulders like she’s actually comfortable… I start to wonder if I got it wrong. That I’m the “for now” guy. The safe experiment. The palate cleanser beforeshe moves on to someone who fits her clean, brilliant, surgeon world.

That she'd never actually end up with a guy like me.

The thought sends me right back to that elementary school classroom—little Louisa, me yanking her hair bows and then hearing her whispering to her friend about how dumb I was, how she’d never date a boy like me because her daddy wants her to marry adoctor.

I’m about to stand, about to walk out into the street and put myself out of this self-inflicted misery, thinking about whether I can find one of those gigantic bicycle-powered drinking carts the bachelorette parties pedal around town to plow me over, when I notice a shift in Catalina. She says something to her date, grabs her purse, and immediately heads toward the exit.

He doesn’t follow. He stays inside, already lining up darts for another game. I’m on my feet and following her before I even think about it, weaving through bachelorettes in sashes and drunk tourists who think cowboy hats are personality traits.

Outside, the street is loud and packed. Neon signs everywhere. People laughing. Catalina stands under one of the lights, arms folded across her chest, cheeks a little flushed, but her eyes are clear.

“You okay?” I ask her.

“Yeah.” She shrugs.

I want to ask what the hell happened back there to change her mind.

“Did you have fun?” I say instead.

I step in front of her, protecting her with my body from a cluster of women passing by debating which honky-tonk to stumble into next.

“Yeah,” she says simply.

I give her a nod. “Alright. Let’s go.”

My old truck, the one I keep at my grandma’s when I’m on the road, is only a short walk down the street. When we reach it, I open the passenger door without a word. She slides inside. I round the hood and climb into the driver's seat, waiting a beat before putting the key in the ignition.

I wish she'd said she hated it. I wish she'd said he was boring, or weird, or smelled bad. Anything that would loosen the knot in my stomach. She says nothing.

“So… you going to see him again?” I ask, trying to sound casual about it and failing miserably.

She laughs softly and shakes her head. “No.”

The relief hits me so hard I almost sway.Good.

I clear my throat. “What's next for your big night out in Nashville?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Let’s go back to your grandma’s house,” she says, brushing a hand down her dress like she’s shaking off the rest of the night. “I’m not in the mood to see more of the city tonight.”

I can’t think of a single thing I’d rather do. Maybe I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic, but Catalina's nothing like little Louisa was.

“You got it, Doc. Let’s go home.”

Chapter 16 – Catalina

Jensen holds the truck door open for me, offering his hand so I can step down when we get back to the cabin.

It’s a little past nine now, the dark summer night is settling over his grandma’s property like a warm blanket. Shadows spill across the yard, pooling under the porch railings and stretching long over the warm grass. The summer moon hangs high and heavy, casting a silver trail across the gorgeous lake that’s at the back of her property. I want to get a better glimpse of it.

It's the lake Jensen told me he used to fish on when he was little, and the one I’m excited to go out on in the morning when we wake. This time away is going by too fast, and before we know it, we’ll be forced to fly back to the West Coast for Jensen’s first ride back. I’m trying to soak up every minute we still have here.

I pause on the pathway up to the front door and look at the horizon. The Smokies… God. They rise behind everything, quiet and ancient, like they’re standing guard over the whole valley. I’ve seen mountains. I grew up with California cliffs, spent the last few days in Denver surrounded by Colorado's beauty, but something about these mountains is softer. More secretive. Ethereal, almost.

“It’s beautiful out here,” I say, unable to keep the awe out of my voice. There are fireflies still blinking in the darkness, and the whole place smells like fresh air.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners a little. “Glad you think so. I like it.”