Page 40 of Roping My Rival

Warren watches me closely, but I can’t figure out if he wants me to stay or decline. He has to drive me back to town, but I’d feel too guilty if he missed dinner with his family because of me.

“Whatever is easier for Warren. He has to drive me back.”

Warren doesn’t even hesitate.

“Pops will love an extra person. His Yorkshire pudding is amazing.”

Okay. I guess that’s settled.

Family dinner with the Burke family, it is. I just hope I can survive.

Sitting in the passenger seat next to Warren with a container of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and Gabe Burke’s amazing Yorkshire pudding on my lap is weird. Beyond weird if there’s such a feeling.

Even Warren seems more awkward than usual. Dinner with his dads felt like an out-of-body experience. They asked questions, and I answered politely, but I never offered more than the minimum. Warren had table manners out of the 1950s, and it was almost too much to take in.

Although I sort of wished I could see his rabbits.

“I’m sorry about the leftovers thing. Pops is always feeding people, so please don’t be offended he sent you home with so much.”

“I’m not.” I’m actually fucking thrilled I have at least two free home-cooked dinners to save money. He could’ve packed me an entire grocery bag of leftovers, and I’d have left the house walking on air.

“So…” Warren clears his throat and throws a quick glance my way. “What do you want to do about your trailer? I assume you only have one spare tire, right?”

“Right. I don’t know. Is it okay to leave it in the back like that for a bit until I figure it out?”

“Yeah. I’ll check with Jesse, but I don’t see why not.”

I don’t like people doing things like this, and I hate asking for it more. But what choice do I have right now?

Warren pulls into the yard, and thankfully, everything is just as we left it.

“Thanks for dinner and…everything,” I say as I open the door to get the hell away from Warren.

“Dane, wait.”

Twisting, I look over my shoulder to find Warren biting his lip. “Can you…would you…” He exhales slowly. “Can you text me when you get home?” When I don’t reply immediately, he adds, “Please.”

“Sure.” I finish sliding out of his passenger seat. “Good night, Warren.” I close the door and head to my truck, acutely aware that Warren hasn’t left because his headlights still shine on my truck, lighting my path.

I won’t imagine that means anything more than him being polite and he only pulls away once I give him a wave that all is well. His taillights are finally in my rear-view mirror and my body sags. After holding it together in front of Warren and his family for so long, finally being alone is both calming and unnerving.

Thankfully, my truck still works, and I head back to my room at the boarding house. The only thing that went as planned this weekend was winning our first team roping competition.

After that…well, a lot of unplanned stuff happened, and it’s not all good. Hell, most of it is fucking terrible.

I can’t even say finding my tires slashed was the worst thing to happen.

After parking in my spot at the boarding house, I throw my duffel bag over my shoulder and clutch my leftovers to my chest before taking the flight of stairs to my room.

Only once I’m safely behind the door do I finally let the tears of frustration fall.

Fuck you, Warren Burke, for making me want something I’ll never have.

Placing my leftovers in my mini fridge, I drop my pants and crawl under the covers. The exhaustion is pressing down, and I only want to sleep for a week, but I reach for my pants and pull out my phone.

After sending the text, I power off the phone and hope I sleep past sunrise.

“Jesse, did you get this note about the Kissing Ridge rodeo? Are we sponsoring the grandstand with Uncle Jackson’s parents now?”