"Kinsley."
I hear Wyatt's voice, and the world steadies. He's at the rail that separates the stands from the competitor area, already strapped into his protective vest. The easy smile from this morning has been replaced by something more focused.
I stand up and the women shift to let me by.
"You good?" he asks, reaching out to take my hand.
"Perfect," I lie, then find myself telling the truth. "Terrified, but perfect."
His grin could power the arena lights. "Good. Fear means you care."
Oh, I care. That's the problem. I try to smile for him but it’s pathetic.
"Hey." His hand covers mine completely. "I'm coming back to you. That's a promise."
The sincerity in his voice quiets the chaos inside me.
"Go," I whisper, though everything in me wants to hold him here where it's safe. "Show them how it's done."
He leans closer, excitement shining in his eyes, his breath warm on my cheek. "Watch me."
Then he's gone, disappearing into the maze of chutes and preparation rituals, leaving me to make my way back to my seat. I feel someone watching me and turn to look over the crowd. RodeoBrittney’s glaring daggers at me from general admission seats.
I offer her a smile, which she doesn’t return, and I can’t help but think she’s anything but happy about what she just saw. I look away. Whatever. When I’m back in my seat, curiosity about this woman gets the better of me and I look her over out of the corner of my eye.
Wait—is that? I stare. I have that graphic tee. I—hang on. I blink in shock. I have that same outfit. I pull out my phone and scroll back to my post with Jessica at the rodeo in Cheyenne. She’s wearing exactly the same outfit right down to the Casanova embroidered snip toe knee high boots.
I quickly put together that the photos of me and Wyatt from last night must have tipped RodeoBrittney off that we’re dating. But stalking me and then copying my outfit? That’s, “crazy,” I say out loud.
“What’s that?” Linda leans over. The buzzer sounds and the pickup guys close in on Colton. June’s cheering for her husband. It was a good ride.
“Nothing.” I turn off my phone. Wyatt was right—his fans are nuts. I can’t believe she’d show up here looking like me.
“Ride, baby! Ride!” yells a woman at the far end of our group. I turn back to the arena to see her manfly off the horse and belly flop in the dirt. I cringe but he’s up and scrambling out of the way.
That was the last bronc rider. We went through saddle bronc so fast I missed it.
Since bull riding’s the last event, the conversation around me turns to practical matters like travel logistics and meeting at the local bar later. I try to follow along, but my brain keeps short-circuiting every time someone mentions Midnight Express. The announcer starts rattling off upcoming rides, and with each name, my body gets tighter and it’s harder to breathe.
"Midnight Express sent three riders to the hospital this season," someone says behind us, and I whip around so fast I nearly give myself whiplash.
"Three?" My voice comes out higher than intended.
Linda pats my knee with the kind of maternal comfort that should be reassuring but absolutely isn't. "Wyatt knows all this. He studies the bulls' patterns. That's why he's ranked so high."
Three more riders until Wyatt. Two more. One more.
Why is time moving differently? It’s like it’s shifting under my boots and I’m scrambling to stay on top.
I have absolutely no idea how to handle that level of emotional investment and I’m going to blame this all on Wyatt. Bringing me here to watch him ride a bull has pushed me into a space where I have to face feelings I’ve been expertly ignoring.
The rider before him gets thrown after five seconds, and the crowd groans in sympathy. I watch the cowboy pick himself up, dust off his hat, andwave to acknowledge the applause for his effort. He's limping slightly but walking under his own power.
Breathe, Kinsley.
He promised to come back to me, and Wyatt Halloway seems like the kind of man who keeps his promises.
Please, God, let him be the kind of man who keeps his promises.