Loving Skye
Book Three
Kelsie Stelting
For Cindy, Sally, and Yesenia.
Every girl deserves friends like you.
Copyright © 2018 by Kelsie Stelting
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
For questions, address [email protected].
Editing by Tricia Harden of Emerald Eyes Editing
Proofreading by Yesenia Vargas of Writer Mom
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Also by Kelsie Stelting
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
About the Author
Chapter One
I couldn’t come up with something like this in a daydream. Seeing a guy this good- looking parked in my driveway, leaning back against his rumbling pickup, holding a wildflower for me? Unreal.
I stepped down the sidewalk toward him, readier than ever for our date. For this new beginning.
He pushed off his truck and walked to meet me halfway. “Hey, good-lookin’.”
“Hey, Damon.” I took in the clean skin of his jaw, the exciting way his green eyes danced. They didn’t need the sun to catch any light. My face could have been replaced with a heart-eye emoji, and it probably wouldn’t have looked any different. “So…”
He grinned and handed me the flower. “This is for you.”
I held the thin stem between my fingers. “Should I bring it inside?”
“Nah, come on.” He walked around to his side of the pickup, and I went to the passenger door. I knew most guys didn’t open doors, but I still felt a little disappointed as I gazed up at the seat in the lifted truck. I had to hang on to the handle and lift my leg way up to pull myself into the cab. A little help might have been nice.
Once I got inside, though, I totally forgot any disappointment I’d been feeling. The cab smelled great—like leather and hay—and with Damon grinning over at me, I couldn’t complain.
I set my flower on the dash and buckled up.
He pulled out of the driveway, steering with one hand on the wheel in that confident way only country kids did—like he’d been driving since before he knew how to do long division. “So, you ever been to a rodeo before?”
“Once,” I admitted. “But I don’t remember much.”
“Okay, city slicker,” he teased. “I’ll getcha up to speed.”
I made my eyes wide. “Promise?”
He bit his bottom lip and looked me up and down. “Definitely.”
That look sent shockwaves right to my gut and flamed my cheeks. I gazed out my window. “Good.”
He chuckled under his breath. “You’re cute.”
That had me staring back at him. “Yeah?”
A grin laced his full lips. “Uh huh.”
My lips spread without asking my permission. “Thanks.”
The houses flying by outside my window thinned, and we pulled up to an outdoor arena surrounded by vehicles and livestock trailers. As we drove into the grass parking lot, I watched people leading horses around, guys sitting on the fence talking, and people finding seats in metal stands.
Damon slowed the pickup and backed into an empty spot along the arena fence. “Front row seats.”
He hopped out, and I followed him around the back of the pickup. He dropped the tailgate, then hopped up easily, and I hated to admit that I was looking at his backside for way too long. Whatever magic they sewed into Wranglers was working for him.
Gross. Did I just think that? My cheeks heated. What was going on with me? But really, those pants.
Damon set up a couple of camping chairs in the bed and scooted a cooler between them like a little table. “How’s it look?”
I grinned at the setup. “Not bad.”
He looked it over and hopped down from the pickup, landing lightly, even in his cowboy boots. “Let me help you up.”
Considering the tailgate was at least three and a half feet off the ground, I felt thankful for his thoughtfulness. But… “I’m not sure you can lift me. I can get up there.”
He rolled his eyes. “If I can take on a fifteen-hundred-pound horse, I think I can handle you.” The muscles on his arms backed him up.
My stomach swooped at the thought. “Okay.”
He looped his hands a couple feet off the ground, and I stepped into his makeshift stirrup with my good leg. I rested my hand on his shoulder—his shoulder that rippled powerfully under my touch—and he lifted me up so easily I might have been on an escalator.
I turned around on the tailgate and smiled down at him. “Thanks.”
His phone dinged in his pocket, and he looked at the screen. “Hey, you mind if I go and say hi to Rhett and Vox real quick?”
Yes, I mind. “No, that’s fine.”
He grinned like I’d passed some sort of test. “You’re the best. Be right back.”
Damon walked toward the spot about fifty yards down the arena fence where a bunch of guys were sitting, and I couldn’t help the sinking feeling that hit my stomach. Was I being clingy for wanting him to spend time with just me on our first date?
I shoved the thoughts aside and settled into one of the chairs. After making sure the bed was decently clean, I set my purse beside me. This really was a nice date—even though it was late May, it wasn’t too terribly hot, and I could imagine a sunset out here would be beautiful. Plus, this whole camper chair and cooler setup was adorable.
I opened the cooler and saw it was full of ice and different drinks. I plucked up a blue Gatorade, took a sip, and stuck it in the chair’s cupholder.
Now what?
Damon wasn’t walking toward me yet, so I pulled out my phone and checked my messages.
I gasped at what Andrew sent me.
Chapter Two
Andrew: Why can’t you be serious with me? Why can’t we date again?
I looked around—I didn’t know why I felt so nervous about someone seeing me on my phone. Maybe I felt guilty getting a text like this on a first date. And I felt indignant. How could Andrew have the nerve to ask tha
t after everything that had happened?
Me: You know why. I couldn’t talk to you because my parents broke my phone, and you had a new girlfriend after THREE weeks.
I glared at the message, trying to swallow down the bad memories. Of puking on prom night and missing him and feeling more alone than I ever had.
Andrew: What are you talking about?
Me: Um. Facebook saying “Andrew Brindon is in a relationship with Stormy Rodriguez.” Ring a bell?
Text bubbles popped up on the screen. For a long time. I kept checking for Damon to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally see these texts, but he still sat on the fence, talking to Rhett and Vox. Usually, I would have been bothered, but right now my mind was way too thrown off course to care. What was Andrew trying to say?
Andrew: That’s what this is about? Skye, there was a MASSIVE miscommunication. Stormy and I were never together. Her boyfriend was being a real jerk and wouldn’t go with her to prom, so we said we were in a relationship on Facebook to make him jealous. I mean, it wasn’t my idea, it was hers, but she was crying and devastated and I didn’t know what else to do…
Andrew: Didn’t you see the Facebook message I sent you? I gave you Roberto’s number so you could call him…
Andrew: Skye, you have to believe me. I would never do anything to hurt you. I cared about you so much and was so worried when you stopped texting me. And I didn’t have a way to tell you my parents had gotten us on a different phone plan to save money. If I didn’t see you at state debate, I was ready to drive to your house and see what the heck was going on.
Andrew: Please don’t date this guy, Skye. We should still be together. This is all just a huge misunderstanding. Please, please, please, say you believe me.
My eyes burned with each word I read. I’d never directly asked him about Stormy—I’d been too afraid to hear that he’d chosen someone else over me. When I’d checked his Facebook page after getting a phone and saw no relationship status, I just figured they’d broken up. But this…it felt too good to be true, and I knew from experience that if something seemed too good, it probably was.
Andrew: Please.
I glanced up and saw Damon walking toward me. Blinking quickly, I silenced my phone and shoved it in my purse.
Damon hopped up on the bed and dropped into the other chair. “Blue Gatorade? Nice pick.”
“What?” My eyes landed on the drink in my cupholder. “Oh, the best.”
He nodded approvingly. “For sure.”
How could I keep talking with Andrew on my mind and my throat getting tighter with every word?
Desperate to change the subject, I asked him how Rhett was doing.
“Fine. Looks like they gave him one of the rankest bulls here.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Rank? Like it smells bad?”
He tossed his head back and laughed, and I felt like even more of an idiot than I was. “What?”
“Rank is like rough. It’s what you call a mean bull. The one Rhett’s riding will make the other ones look like a walk in the park.”
“Ah.” I nodded slowly and gazed at the arena with its freshly turned dirt.
An announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, and people started riding horses around. The scene unfolding before me looked like a country western beauty pageant. One girl galloped on a beautiful horse, holding a massive American flag. Someone dressed in rhinestoned western clothing sang the national anthem.
Damon leaned over and said, “Time for the barrel racing.”
Girls my age rode around the barrels, their hair and the horses’ tails flying behind them. I recognized a few girls from school and even Harleigh competing on a beautiful brown and white horse. Damon called it a “paint.”
And then there was the steer wrestling. A guy stood behind one gate and a steer stood behind another. Both gates flew open, and the guy raced the calf until his horse was right up next to it. Clearly insane, this guy roped a steer, then jumped off his horse to tackle the animal to the ground. How he—and the rest of the guys—made it through the event without breaking something or getting impaled on the horns was beyond me.
After that was the bronc riding, which was equally insane. The horses must have jumped three feet in the air, and these obvious sadists either hung on or flew off until they crumpled on the ground. A couple people had to be taken away on stretchers—the guys in the audience always put their cowboy hats over their chests out of respect. That’s what Damon told me.
Last was the bull riding. From the way the crowd went crazy, I knew it was the biggest deal of the night. With all the brightly colored chaps and waving, it was almost like a pageant—you know, if a pageant could trample and kill you.
Damon pointed at a guy getting settled on top of a bull. “There’s Rhett.”
I gaped at him. He looked so small compared to the animal. “How much does that thing weigh?”
Damon inclined his head, sizing up the animal. “’Bout two thousand, give or take.”
“A ton? Like, heavier than a car?”
Damon chuckled, his entire face lighting up under his cowboy hat.
But I wasn’t convinced this was the time for laughing. “Why the heck is Rhett sitting on top of a car that wants to kill him?”
The gate flew open, and for the longest eight seconds of my life, I watched Rhett, my friend and soon-to-be coworker, clinging to the back of this bucking, snarling, spinning, two-thousand-pound beast.
The eight-second alarm dinged, and Rhett flew through the air, then went rolling on the ground. He snapped up and ran to the fence. And the bull chased him.
“Hurry, Rhett!” I screamed.
He jumped to the top rung of the fence and rolled over, just in time for the bull to ram right into the metal panels. The rodeo clown—some dude dressed in brightly colored clothes—came and distracted the bull until they could get it out of the arena.
I put my hand over my pounding heart and tried to catch my breath. “You guys like this?”
Damon laughed, and I hit his chest. His hard chest.
“Seriously,” I said. “He could’ve been killed.”
Damon leaned his head toward mine until he was inches away. “But he wasn’t.”
My breath caught. He was so close.
I swallowed. “But he could have.”
Damon’s gaze hooked mine. “You can’t spend your days letting life happen to you. You have to happen to it.”
“Easier said than done.”
A plotting glint hit his eyes. “Want to give it a try?”
Chapter Three
Vox, Rhett, Harleigh, and her friend Cheyenne piled into Damon’s pickup with us. With everyone in the cab, there was barely room to breathe. I sat in the middle, right under Damon’s arm, and he tickled my shoulder with the soft touch of his fingertips.
We flew down country roads, dust looking red behind us in the taillights’ glow. I kept my head leaned on Damon’s shoulder. Something about being this close to him, feeling warmth transfer from his skin to mine, made me feel electrified, excited, and comfortable at the same time.
The pickup rolled to a stop in front of a fence.
“Shotgun gets the gate,” Damon said.
Rhett groaned and got out. He’d taken off his pearl snap shirt, and I had a great view of his muscles working under his sleeveless undershirt. He made quick work of the gate and hopped back in.
I still didn’t know what we were doing, but maybe it was better that way. I wouldn’t be able to psych myself out. Letting Damon know what a weenie I could be was definitely a third-date thing, right?
The headlights brought rows and rows of huge, round haybales into view. What did this have to do with me happening to life?
Rhett got out and opened another gate, and we pulled up along one of the rows. The bales were stacked like pyramids and had to be at least fifteen feet tall all piled up like that.
Damon killed the engine and pushed his door open. My shoulders felt cold without the steady weight
of his arm.
The others scrambled out, but Damon stood by the driver’s side door, waiting for me. “Ready for an adventure?” His lips quirked up into a challenging smile, and I wanted nothing more than to keep that smirk coming.
Feeling scared but confident in a way I hadn’t before, I leaned toward him, put a hand on his shoulder, and looked him right in the eyes. “Are you ready?”
Who was this person in my body?
His lips twitched to the side, and his eyes landed somewhere around my mouth. “I’m ready.”
He leaned closer, but my heart pounded, so I jumped past him and started toward the others. “You coming?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I am.”
Rhett and Vox had already hauled themselves up on the top of the haybale pyramid. Cheyenne and Harleigh were close behind.
My stomach churned as I gazed up at them.
Damon’s breath tickled my ear. “Afraid of heights?” His arm wound around my waist, and I turned to face him. This close, I could smell his breath, a mix of blue Gatorade and spearmint gum.
“No.” But this. This was scary. Here I was with a nineteen-year-old guy. In the middle of the night. And he was promising adventure. The kind I’d never had before.
Was I ready?
“Let’s go,” I said.
Damon offered to help me up, but I clambered to the top, hay scratching me along the way. My leg still didn’t feel one hundred percent, but I was getting there. Getting stronger every day.
Loving Skye: Book Three (The Texas Star Series 3) Page 1