“I’ve loved that girl since she shoved me in the dirt at recess in kindergarten.”
“She know that?”
I look at Mo. She’s still the same girl who knocked me down all those years ago, and I’m a lucky son of a bitch because she looks at me the same way she always has—with stars in her eyes. And if that doesn’t make a man feel ten feet tall, I don’t know what will.
“I’ve showed her every way I know how.”
“Actions do speak louder than words, but she’s a chick, man.” Linc shakes his head, his eyes on Mo. “Chicks need words. You’ve got to spell that shit out for her.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Come on, Jimmy, is that all she’s got?” Mo yells.
Jimmy gives me a pleading look.
“Okay, Monroe. You’ve made your point,” I say, stepping up to the rope. “You can get down now.”
“No. This is fun. Crank it up, Jimmy!”
The small crowd at the back of room lets out a loud whoop, egging Mo on.
“Jimmy.” I lace my voice with warning, but he doesn’t listen.
Cheryl starts moving faster, adding a little whip to her twists. Mo giggles, moving her hips along with the bull. She slides to the side, and I suck in a breath, letting it out once she rights herself.
Jerking to the left, Cheryl tosses Mo again, only a little harder. Her eyes widen, the smile falling from her face, and fuck me, this is too much. She can’t handle something like this.
I turn to Jimmy to tell him to turn it off just as Cheryl bucks, throwing her ass end up and flinging Mo into the air.
My heart lodges in my throat as Mo flies over Cheryl’s head, landing hard against the mat. Linc and I hurl ourselves over the rope as Jimmy kills the bull.
I slide to my knees at Mo’s side, pulling her into my arms. “Mo, baby, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She brushes her hair out of her face and beams at me. “That was amazing. A little scary…” She climbs to her feet. “But amazing. The adrenaline rush was crazy.”
Linc raises his hand for a high five, and Mo delivers.
“You want to go another round?” he asks, earning a punch in the shoulder from me.
“Would you shut up?”
Mo steps away, ignoring me on her way out of the room.
“Not today,” she calls back to Linc. “I think once is enough for now.”
“Not ever,” I correct, following after her.
The bar has filled while we’ve been gone, and our food now waits at our table. We slide back into the booth, and Mo finishes off her cheesecake before devouring her burger while Linc and I play catch up.
“Doctor gave you the all clear?”
I nod, taking the last bite of my burger. I toss my napkin on my plate and set it at the edge of the table. “He did. I’m going to have to work my ass off, but a few good rides and I should be able reclaim my spot at the top.”
“You’ll get there in no time, brother,” Linc assures me. “So, you gonna be in Charleston with us next weekend? We’re leaving on Wednesday.”
“Charleston?” Mo swallows her last fry and looks up.
“That’s the next ride. You got a problem with that, princess?” Linc goads.
Always the shit-stirrer.
“Call me that again and you’ll get my Ariat shoved up your ass.”
He grins.
She scowls.
I intervene. “I haven’t been on a bull in weeks.”
Linc scoffs. “Yeah, weeks, not months. It’s like riding a bike. You’ll get right back on and do fine. We can get you into the arena tomorrow, and you’ll have five days to get comfortable again before we leave.”
Mo’s hand finds my arm. “Tomorrow?”
I cover her hand with mine and look at Linc. “I’ll let you know.”
“Your call, brother.” He slides from the booth and tosses money on the table—enough to cover all the food and leave a decent tip. “I’m outta here. Nice to meet you, Monroe. And it was good to see you, man. Can’t wait to have you back.”
I scoot out of the booth and give him a one-armed hug. “We’ll talk soon.”
I turn to Mo. “You ready?” She takes my hand, letting me help her out of the booth.
We make it halfway to the door before I get stopped.
Monroe
“Oh my God, you’re Rhett Allen.”
Before my eyes, Rhett transforms into a version of himself I’ve yet to experience. He releases my hand, positions himself in front of the stunning blonde, and gives her the same smile he has when he’s trying to get me naked.
“I thought that was you, but I wasn’t sure. I’m a huge fan. My daddy has been following your career for several years.”
She bats her big doe eyes, and I fight the urge to rip out her extensions.
“Thank you,” Rhett says. “I appreciate the support.”
She pulls a pen from her purse, along with a piece of paper. “Would you mind signing this for me?”
“Anything for you.”
She blushes, fluttering her eyelashes as he scrawls his name.
Just when I think we’re clear, Barbie’s friend steps up.
“Can I have your autograph too?”
“Sure.” Rhett smiles at the redhead while Barbie steps to the side. He scribbles his name across the paper and hands it back.
“Can we get a picture with you?” she asks, smiling coyly.
It’s a look he’s probably gotten from women hundreds of thousands of times, but it’s a look I instantly hate. I’m right here, bitch!
“Absolutely,” Rhett says.
Red pulls her phone out of her purse and hands it to Barbie. Rhett drapes an arm around her shoulder and flashes his mega-white smile, then repeats the process with the other woman. When Barbie steps away, she hands Rhett a napkin. I can’t see what it says, but I wasn’t born yesterday. He looks at the napkin and stuffs it into his pocket.
Oh no he didn’t just put her goddamn phone number in his pocket!
“I’ll meet you at the truck,” I tell him.
Rhett’s eyes widen as I shoulder past the women and the rest of the crowd. Once I’m out the front door, I take a deep breath and head straight for my truck.
Rhett is hot on my heels.
“You can’t get bent out of shape every time a fan stops me.”
“Are you serious?” I say, whirling around. “You think that’s why I’m bent out of shape?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No!” I pause. “Okay, yes. A little. How often does that happen?”
“I get stopped all the time. I’m not famous by any means, but people who follow the rodeo know who I am. And a lot of my fans are female.”
“I don’t mean how often do you get stopped. I meant how often do women slip you their number. Because that’s another hard limit for me.”
“You and your damn hard limits.” He purses his lips. “It happens every once in a while.”
“I’m gonna need more than that. Once a week? Once a month?”
“A couple times on the weekends after a show, and once or twice a week if I come into The Broken Boot.”
“Oh.” I give an exaggerated nod. “So we’re talking several times a week.”
“Something like that.”
“And how often do you keep the number?”
He scowls. “Never. I don’t keep their numbers.”
“Really? Because you stuffed Barbie’s number in your pocket.”
Rhett’s lips twitch. “Barbie? That’s cute, Mo,” he says, slipping his hand in his pocket as if to show me there’s nothing there. Except he pulls out the napkin and stares down at it.
His eyes snap to mine. I challenge him with a look.
“I wasn’t going to keep her number.” He wads up the napkin and tosses it in the back of my truck. “What was I supposed to do? Tell her I didn’t want it?”
“Yes! That’s exactly what you should’ve done. You shouldn’t have put it in your p
ocket with your girlfriend standing next to you.”
His eyes soften and he reaches for me. I let him pull me into his arms.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I usually just stick the number in my pocket and throw it away later. I had no intention of calling her; you should know that.”
“I do know that.” I sigh, frustrated at myself for overreacting. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad. You’re used to it, but I’m not.”
“They’re just fans, Mo.”
“Not gonna lie, it might take me a little while to get used to other women drooling over my boyfriend.”
“As long as you remember your boyfriend is drooling over you. It’s just like that photo shoot, right? This is part of my job, but nobody has chemistry like us.” Rhett kisses me, opens the door to my truck, and ushers me in. “Let’s go get the dogs, gather our stuff, and head out. We can get you back in time to check on the animals.”
“I’d like that. I miss them.”
“I know you do.”
Monroe
“You got everything?”
“I think so.” I sweep my eyes over Rhett’s bedroom and bathroom to make sure I didn’t leave anything.
With my bag and purse in my hands and Duke and Diesel at my heels, I load my things into the truck. Rhett’s phone rings. He digs it out of his pocket and looks at the screen.
“I’ve gotta take this.”
“We’re in no hurry,” I say, bending down to grab the ball Duke dropped at my feet. “Take your time.”
Rhett answers his phone and walks back into the house.
I toss the ball for Duke until he wears out and plops down in the grass. The minutes tick by, and finally curiosity gets the best of me. I go in search of Rhett.
As soon as I shut the front door, I hear his voice coming down the hall. The words I’ve dreaded hearing stop me in my tracks.
“Yes, you can count on me to be there, and I’ll accept the bonus ride… I’m sure… No, I don’t need to talk it over with anyone. Nikki no longer works for me… All right, that’s perfect… Thank you, sir. I’ll see you soon.”
With his phone in his hand, Rhett rounds the corner and stops at the sight of me. “How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough to know you’re riding this weekend, and you accepted another bonus ride. I also heard you say you didn’t need to talk it over with anyone.” My voices rises with each word, heat infusing my cheeks. “But what about me?”
Rhett straightens his back, his jaw set in a firm line, his eyes trained on something over my shoulder. “Come on, Mo. You knew this was going to happen. I’ve made it clear that I’m going back to work, and the sooner the better.”
“Would you at least look at me?”
His eyes find mine.
“I understand that this is your job, but I don’t like this—I’ve never liked this. When we were younger, I always stepped back and let you take the lead. Bull riding was something you loved, and who was I to stop you? I hope things will be different now, and if I’m going to be part of your life, I’d like to have some input.”
“But this is my life, and if all you’re going to do is fight me, that’s not being part of it.”
“I’m not trying to fight you—that isn’t what this is about. But seeing what my dad has gone through has put things in perspective. I see life for what it is—short, unpredictable, and precious.”
“I understand that. Why do you think I’m trying to live it doing what I love?”
“Like you said earlier, I’m just looking out for you, Rhett. I don’t want to see you get hurt—or worse, killed. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think you should at least think through what Dr. Wong and Dr. Pine said today.”
“I heard them, Mo. But don’t you see? It’s no different than you doing whatever you had to do to take care of your dad. He was your life. This is my life.”
“What about us, Rhett? Am I not a part of your life? Does my opinion not matter?”
“You’re turning my words around. You are part of my life, and yes, your opinion means everything to me, but I was a bull rider when you started dating me the first time. I was a bull rider when you got back with me, and nothing has changed, Mo. This is who I am.”
“And I accept that. I love that you have something you love, but did you not listen to a word your doctors said? You’re not making informed decisions; you’re reacting. Your shoulder is fragile. The wrong move could result in a complete tear and then what? Surgery and months of rehab, and if you’re lucky you’ll get back on the bull. And that’s if you don’t get another head injury first.”
“Jesus Christ, Monroe.”
I hate that he uses my full name. It feels cold and final.
“I’m not trying to get you to give up. I’m just trying to preserve your future—a future I plan to be a part of, and I want you whole. I want you to carry me over the threshold someday and toss our kids in the air. Most of all, Rhett, I want you alive. If you’re not here and breathing, you might as well put me on the bull too, because I won’t survive being apart from you again.”
“If you don’t want me to give up, what is it you want me to do?”
“I want you to make sure you’re ready to go back. I don’t want you to rush yourself or push yourself and injure your shoulder more. I don’t want you to take bonus risks you don’t have to. And maybe you could look into a helmet—I’ve seen some of the newer guys wearing them.”
“I’m not wearing a damn helmet.”
“Even if it could save your life?”
“Goddammit, Mo. You think I haven’t considered what the doctors said? It’s all I think about. I’m aware of the risks, and I’m choosing to get back on the bull because it’s what I love to do. My doctor cleared me because my shoulder is as good as it’s going to get. It may never get back to full capacity, and that’s something I’ll have to live with, but it has to be my decision, Mo. I know where you stand. I know where my parents stand and where my doctors stand, and when the time comes for me to make a change, I’ll involve you in that decision. But that time isn’t now, and I need you to trust me.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I need you to support me.”
“I do support you.” I take a step forward. “But you’re making it hard. How am I supposed to watch you go back to work when it might be too soon?”
“The doctors cleared me.”
“For your shoulder…”
Rhett tosses his arms out to the side. “I don’t know what you want from me, Monroe. This is my life. You either want to be part of it or you don’t.”
“Of course I want to be part of it—I am part of it—but I don’t want to watch you kill yourself or ruin your chances to continue the career you love.”
The air grows thick with tension. Our feet are rooted to the floor, neither one of us willing to make the first move. I hate that we can’t seem to find solid ground. I also hate the way he’s looking at me.
“I need to drive my truck back to Heaven,” he says, still not moving. “I have to be back here tomorrow. So I’ll follow you. It’ll give each of us some time to think about what we want.”
“Shit, Rhett. Didn’t you say we don’t walk away mad?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not mad, Mo.”
I hate the idea of us being apart from each other right now, but maybe he’s right. We’ve been together nonstop almost since he came home. Maybe we need some time to step back and evaluate things. Except I don’t need to re-evaluate or think.
“I don’t need to think. I already know what I want. I want you.”
“I need you to be sure, Mo. Because I can’t live with you breathing down my neck about what I do for a living. And you can’t live your life angry at me for doing it.”
He finally closes the distance between us. “Maybe you should take some time to consider what you want for yourself, too. If your dad moves in with Sharon, you’ll have an opportunity to chase your own dreams, Mo, and I want that for you. I want to be
part of your dream, whatever it is.” His lips, warm and soft, kiss my cheek. “I’ll follow you to Heaven.”
We gather our things, and he holds the front door open for me, locking it after I walk out. I climb into my truck. He whistles for the dogs, who jump in with him, and we all pull out and head toward the highway.
I meant what I said—I don’t want Rhett to give up what he loves. I might prefer that he not get back on the bull or chance it on bonus rides with his history of injuries, but I would never ask him to walk away before he’s ready.
The irony of the situation isn’t lost on me, though, because I walked away from what I loved. I walked away from Rhett and my chance to be a vet. And he didn’t have a say in any of that. Yet here I am, asking for a voice in his future.
We’ve been back together just a short time, and already he consumes me. He’s all I think about, all I dream about, but he’s right—what about me? What do I want? I have to exist outside of Rhett and my father. I just hope that whatever I choose to do—even if it turns out not to be convenient or moves us farther away from each other—Rhett will support me.
But I already know he will.
I glance in my rearview mirror.
He’s right behind me, the strong, supportive presence I’ve always known him to be, and now it’s my turn to step up.
This time I’ll be who he’s told me he needs me to be, not anyone else.
Rhett
The ride back to Heaven is too quiet. The dogs are asleep in the backseat, and Mo is a few hundred feet in front of me—though it feels like she’s a thousand miles away. This is the part of the job I hate—the part I’ve always dreaded. I’ve seen my friends go through it with their ladies. Some relationships have made it through; others weren’t so lucky.
It killed me to tell Mo I was going back now whether she likes it or not, but I have to. Not going back isn’t an option. And the longer I wait, the harder it will be to get back on a bull again. Despite what Mo and the doctors think, I have listened. Every warning is branded into my head, but I can’t walk away after an injury—I can’t let a bull decide the fate of my career. Getting back in the arena is something I have to do for myself, to prove I can overcome this, that I can still have this career. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I stop now.
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