“You’ve been saying that all summer.”
“It’s worse now because your hair is actually combed.”
“Real cowboys like it like this,” I said, flicking the wayward hair back onto my forehead.
“Liar. I could do it for you,” Shelby offered before reaching up to move it again, her fingertips brushing ever so slightly against my skin.
“I’m good,” I said. With the way my blood was racing just now, I was certain I wouldn’t be able to handle Shelby’s hands in my hair for any sort of haircut.
“Besides, real cowboys are supposed to be decent shots too, and we both know how that turned out for you,” she said.
“Any good coach would let you win a few. To help your confidence.”
“How considerate of you.”
“I thought so.”
We were standing toe to toe, my hands in my pockets, her arms folded, grinning at each other before I came back to myself.
I glanced around the room, attempting to pick something else in the room to focus on besides the redhead.
Nothing held my interest.
“You ready?”Dusty asked later that night as we leaned against the fence in the back corrals near the chutes. We’d finished dinner, and all the participants had scattered to change their clothes and head to the fairgrounds where the crowds were starting to arrive.
The Eugene rodeo arena sat on the outskirts of the county fairground. A large, covered grandstand stood tall, facing the individual eight chutes that would eventually hold the angry broncs and bulls the cowboys would ride. A dusty, dirt-filled arena wrapped around between the grandstand and the chutes in a huge oval, with more bleachers on the outsides and a fence around the perimeter, protecting the crowds from the animals.
“Just like riding a bike,” I lied, while Dusty only laughed.
The familiar smell of dirt and cattle filtered through the air, along with fried dough and spiced nuts from the county fair going on outside the arena. There was an excited buzz in the air all around us, and for the first time since I’d left Shelby’s side, I found myself smiling. It wasn’t necessarily what I was about to do that had me bouncing on the balls of my feet but the feeling of the whole place.
The stands before us were filled with plaids and cowboy hats. There were men with tractors in the arena smoothing out the dirt and kicking up dust and bringing back a lot of good memories of the sport. There was a part of me I’d left behind in this place, and it was good to be back. I’d felt myself slowly coming back to life the past few months, thanks to a certain redhead, and being here again was the cherry on top.
However, this was nothing like riding a bike. Ten years ago, I would have happily sat my butt on an angry, spinning bronc and not thought a thing about it. I hadn’t feared much back in those days. But now, my heart pounded with trepidation. The longer a guy spent away from rodeo, the more he realized just how deranged the sport actually was.
“Did we really do this for fun?” I asked, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
“You did this for fun. I was one of the smart ones who just stuck to roping.”
He’d been good too. We team-roped together in high school and even a few years after, but Dusty had also excelled at calf tying. I never got into that one—instead always chasing the big events. The bigger the ride, the better chance one particular seat at the rodeo might be filled.
It never was.
Tonight, however, it wasn’t the hope of seeing my dad that had me scanning the packed arena. I spotted Cade and Kelseyand their family. Layne and Peggy Marten sat nearby, each attempting to corral and distract a squirming twin.
My gaze first settled on Sophie, sitting one row down from them, her pink cowboy hat on her head, and nestled next to a long-legged redhead still wearing the dress that nearly caused me a heart attack tonight. They were laughing at something. Sophie pointed toward something in the arena while Shelby leaned forward to hear what she had to say.
I could well imagine the little imp talking her ear off.
Sophie hadn’t had a nightmare in a month. That was thirty-one days of Sophie not waking up, crying out for her mom. Thirty-one days of cautious peace. I had no doubt this was, in no small part, due to Shelby’s presence in our lives.
I’d been searching for a sign from Sophie, to let me know that if I did end up pursuing Shelby, she’d be fine with that. Watching her now, practically in her lap, talking animatedly, pointing toward something below, was everything I needed.
“Shelby looks pretty tonight,” Dusty said.
I kicked at the dirt, forcing my gaze to move elsewhere, even if that meant meeting Dusty’s knowing look as he glanced over to where I had been looking.
“How’d you ever man up enough to snag a girl like Lucy?” I asked, if only to avert any questions he’d throw my way.