He felt Charles’s eyes on him as he headed through the stands.
Ryder got stopped at least a half dozen times on the way through to stand in line, but it wasn’t terrible.
Folks had been concerned, were glad to see him and, all in all, it felt good.
He stood, flipping through texts when one of Hank’s buddies came to stand next to him. “Hey, man.”
“Back of the line is there.” He wasn’t being paid to be polite anymore.
“Thanks. You’re looking good. Is retirement treating you well?”
“Yessir. I’m having a good time. Staying busy.” And he didn’t want to say anything that could get misunderstood.
Not at all.
“Listen, I know it was weird after the thing with Hank and all, but I was really sorry about your accident, and I’m glad to see you up on your feet again.”
“Thanks.” Okay, he could be polite. He knew how. “I was laid low for a bit, but I’m up and moving. I appreciate all the donations.”
“This business can be generous sometimes. Anyway, it was good to see you.” The guy—whose name Ryder just couldn’trecall at the moment—tipped his hat and headed for the back of the line.
“Ryder? Roper. No, you have to be Ryder, Roper’s gonna ride soon. Can I get a picture?”
“Of course.” He smiled without a single thought, macking for the camera. He had done this ten-thousand times, easy.
The woman smiled with him, put her arm around his waist, and her friend took a bunch of pictures. “Thank you so much. So cool to see you here. Wish your brother a good ride.” She took a step back, and he was suddenly next in line.
“Hey, there. Can I please get a Coke, a Diet Coke, and two waters?” His head tilted. “Can I have some of the fries with the cheese and all too?”
“Yep. One disco fries!” the cashier called out and rang him up while a young lady filled their drinks and grabbed a cardboard basket of fries from under a warmer. “Enjoy the show.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” He was damn lucky he knew how to carry shit, and even luckier when a teenager with peach fuzz on his cheeks offered to walk him down to his seat.
He let him, passed the food down to Mister Charlie, then signed the kid’s league cap for him. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Thank you, sir.” It got even better for the kid when Rope and Sky signed the cap as well. The kid left with a big smile on his face.
“My refreshments have been delivered by a celebrity,” Charles winked at him as he took his seat. “I’d forgotten that you’d have fans here. How wonderful. I’m quite lucky.”
He didn’t know quite what to say to that, so he grinned and handed over the French fries. “I got us a snack.”
“These look evil. Look at all that cheese.” Charles held it on one knee where he could reach easily and took a sip of his Coke. “Your friends are kind. They kept me entertained while youwere gone with stories about how they’d met. Skyler said he was champion before he was forced to retire.”
“He was. He was one of the best. He taught us all a ton, honest to God.”
“I don’t doubt it. He seems to really care about you and other younger riders. He says he’s even coached your brother a couple of times.”
“Yessir.” He raised his voice. “Not that he could tell us apart.”
Sky’s voice floated back to him, tone dry. “Your own momma can’t tell you apart.”
“She says she don’t have to. She made us interchangeable.” He winked at Mister Charlie.
Charles chuckled and helped himself to another cheesy French fry.
“Yes, she’s right. You’re both a couple of dumbasses.”
Rope laughed outright at that one, and Charles snorted.