Page 91 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

All things my body gave up the rights to some years back. I’d be lucky not to hurt my hip getting out of bed these days.

A big, ugly grey bull catches my eye, the rider loading into the chute. Fuck, that’s a beast. Hope they’ve not put some fresh newbie on it; that’d be asking for certain death, the way it’s slamming against the gates.

The gates swing open. I take a pull of my beer, then set it down fast.

Jesus. This kid can ride.

Not hang-on-and-pray ride. Actually ride. Seat solid, free arm working, hips rolling with the bull instead of fighting. Every move clearly deliberate.

I’d eat my hat if he doesn’t get the highest score yet. Hell. He might’ve even given me a run back in the day and I was damn good. The best at the time.

Eight seconds can feel like a lifetime for a rider, but as the buzzer sounds off, he comes clean off, landing both feet firmly on the ground like it was nothing. Whoever he is, he’s going places. No doubt about that.

The rider rips off his helmet, and turns to the crowd, grinning.

Jae.

Well. I'll be damned.

He’s eating up the applause, and I just know that little shit is loving the attention. Doesn’t feel that long ago he was the kid following Colt around the ranch, cornering me with question after question. What’s the hardest bull you ever drew? What do you think about in the chute? Were you ever scared going in?

I kept my answers short, but he never took offence. Just kept coming back with more. And I knew then he wasn’t the kind to give up on a dream.

And I’m glad he didn’t, because his score flashes up and it’s a damn good one. Top of the leaderboard. Well deserved.

I find Colt where I left him, beer in hand, laughing with Naomi. I don’t miss that Maeve’s nowhere to be seen, but seeing Colt looking at ease, actually happy… That stops me in my tracks.

It’s not often I get to see a smile on my son’s face. Been happening more these past few months though. And I’ve got a feeling seeing Jae here is only going to add to that.

I step beside him. “You see who just rode.”

He clocks my expression. “Who?”

“Jae.”

“No way. He never said a word—” He's already up on his toes scanning the arena. “That little shit.”

“Stayed on the full eight.” I say, bringing the bottle to my lips. “Scored well.”

Colt looks back at me. “Go find him, he should be done now.”

“Sorry Naomi,” he throws over his shoulder, already disappearing into the crowd. Naomi is unphased, turning to chat with somebody nearby.

Me? Well, I set my attention on finding my angel.

Doesn’t take long. I knew where she’d be—the bar. She’s wedged between Bryan and Wyatt, both men’s elbows leaning against the counter, laughing at something Maeve has said.

I walk up to them. “Y’all leaving me out?”

“Wade.” Maeve looks up at me, eyes bright and for a second, it’s hard to remember we’re meant to be pretending.

“I thought I’d join you for a drink if that’s ok?” I ask, though it isn’t really a question. I just want to be near her.

Bryan hooks an arm around my neck, dragging me in. “’Course it is. Can’t remember the last time we all went out together.” He turns, shouting. “Ma’am! Another round please!”

“One sec!” The bartender calls back, busy fetching glasses from the back of the bar.

We fall into easy talk while we wait. Maeve’s laughing at one of Bryan’s stupid stories—one I’d rather she didn’t hear—but the way she fits in with them, like she belongs here… I find I don’t mind it so much.