The faster this night is over, the better.
Chapter 3
River
“Thisisthelastplace I want to be,” I mumble under my breath, adjusting my scrub top.
The only plan after opening night was to go home, slip on my fleece pajamas, and camp out on the couch. Then I met Joy. Seems like a sweet girl. She’ll be working with the horses for the season. Something I pitied her for until I got the call from Cecil, as I was shutting down the med room.
Then the only person I pitied was myself.
“River, I’m retiring. Be a doll and work the rodeo for the season.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Your grandma would tell you to help an old man.”
My teeth ground together, knowing Cecil threw the one card in my face that I would never go against.
“Fine. Anything I need to know?”I’d groaned, resolute that this would be my life through October, on top of my normal schedule and surgeries at University Hospital.
“Watch out for the Garrison boys. They’re a handful.”
I could only snort a laugh. It would have been a nice heads-up before coming face to face with a very pissed-off, very attractive Grayson Garrison. I mean fuck. Talk about making a woman’s panties wet with a scowl.
Music blares from the building as my sneakers crunch over the gravel parking lot. Reminders of Grayson’s rough hands in mine, activating muscles that have been asleep for quite some time. Looking from side to side, it’s nothing but goddamn pickup trucks. There’s a reason I left this bumpkin county a long time ago, but now I’m back. Seems the city life didn’t quite suit me, either.
Two cowboys in tight jeans that hug their sculpted thighs and butts saunter past me, tipping their hats before tugging the door open.
“Ma’am,” one of them smiles down at me. He removes that signature Stetson from his head with a little bow, ushering me in ahead of him. If only all men showed respect like this. Yet, my teeth grind again. I’m not old enough to be a ma’am.
“Thanks,” I smile wide, even though I don’t want to.
I feel just as out of place as I always do, walking into a honky tonk wearing black scrubs I would never wear unless I had to.
Post-rodeo regulars pack the bar, as expected. The riders and locals forever keeping the tradition alive of meeting in this historical place. Everyone who knows about the Boulder Ranch Rodeo knows the Thirsty Pony is the meeting spot afterward. No exceptions. No excuses.
I’m not one of them. At least, I wasn’t until Joy asked, and Cecil cornered me into being his replacement for the season. The need for a stiff drink after being coerced seemed necessary.
At least the view won’t be terrible.
Slipping onto an empty bar stool, I flag the bartender over. My eyes roam over the place absently while I wait. The wooden tables and chairs that are likely older than I am litter the space, full of chattering patrons. The table tops covered in empty beer bottles and liquor glasses.
The dance floor is full, too. Women in booty shorts and men stomping their cowboy boots to bass-heavy beats. I could never wear shorts like that. My genetic mix gave me what my mother refers to as a table-top-butt, so anything short isn’t for me.
“What’ll it be?” A hoarse voice draws my attention back behind the bar.
“Betty?”
“I’ll be damned. River Thompson. Beckett told me you were back in town, but I didn’t believe it. Once y’all become fancy city people, our dirt ain’t no good anymore.”
I can only laugh. Betty and Beckett Hughes went to school with me. Beckett and I even dated for about five minutes, but then I left for medical school and never came back. That is, until about a year ago.
“I’m not even sure how he knew, but good to see you. And I’ll have a whiskey neat.”
“Okay, now.” She swats me with a towel, that thousand-watt smile flashing my way.
I should have known I’d see her here. The Hughes family started in Cole County at least eight generations back and never left. None of them have.
