“You said that this is your sister’s fiancé’s house?”
“Yep.”
“What’s the fiancé’s name?”
“Ryder Davenport,” I respond.
His lips form a thin line as his jaw clenches, the vein on his throat bulging slightly, nods, and then clears his throat again. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Teagan.”
Nice to meet me?
Where’s the Wilder who said all those things about us spending time together after last night? How I was worth more than a quick one-night-stand.
Where’s the Wilder who came in his pants off of the taste of me on his tongue?
"Okay... nice to meet you too," I mutter, jumping out of the truck before he can come around to open my door. I race up the sidewalk, stomp inside and slam the front door behind me without a backward glance.
I know I'm being immature, maybe I could have given him a wave goodbye, but I'm annoyed. This guy is hot and cold from one minute to the next. He hardly talks, and then when he does, says some of the most intense, throat gripping things that have my panties dampening on command. But dismissing me like that, as if what we did hadn’t even happened last night, well, that stings.
I roll my eyes to myself as I kick off my heels in the front hallway, waiting until I hear the engine of his truck rev and then fade out as it moves back down the dirt road the way that we came. Because how embarrassing to think we were going to spend more time together.
"What the hell happened to you last night?" my sisters voice cutsthrough my frustration. She’s already standing in the kitchen with a smirk, clutching a black mug full of coffee that saysBride to Be!On it in her small hands. Half of her blonde hair is plastered to her face, and mascara streaks down her cheeks into the hollow of her apple cheekbones. I can't help but laugh as I walk toward her. Both of us look an absolute mess.
“I don’t even know,” I say, swiping the coffee pot off the warmer and grabbing a mug from the cupboard. “Where are the rest of your bridesmaids?”
She waves her hand dismissively. “They’re passed out all over the house.”
“What did y’all end up doing last night after Baxter’s?”
“We stayed there all night. When they closed at two, we headed back here and went swimming in the pool. Ryder didn’t come home until close to five this morning and I’ve been up since.”
“What’d he do at his bachelor party?”
She shrugs. “He said he and his friends went to San Angelo. Probably went to the strip club there and got drunk.”
I cringe at the thought. Ryder is twenty-four, four years older than my little sister, and while I know bachelor parties at strip clubs are pretty common, it’s just not something I could ever be okay with my fiancé doing. The whole "getting it out of my system" idea before marriage? No, thank you. If you need to get something out of your system, maybe you’re not ready to settle down in the first place.
But my sister and I have always been wired differently. I want a guy who’s all about me—mind, heart, and, yes, naked body—before and after marriage. Shawna, on the other hand, has always been more practical. She values stability, security, and her dream of being a stay-at-home mom today raising a family. And there’s nothing wrong with that—Ryder’s never given me a reason to doubt he’ll take good care of her. He’s supportive of her dream to have a family and wants kids too, but still… the whole strip club thing? Major ick.
If she’s happy, though, I guess that’s what matters.
“So,” I ask, forcing a smile and the idea of Wilder and Ryder’s differences out of my mind, “what’s on the agenda for day two of your bachelorette weekend?”
She sets down her coffee mug, grinning like she’s been waiting for me to ask. “Day drinking by the pool, and then tonight, we’re hitting the infamous Lonestar Junction rodeo to watch some cowboys do some roping.”
Chapter 7 - Teagan
I’ve never been to a rodeo before.
Growing up on a dairy farm in rural Pennsylvania, we had plenty of fairs, seasonal festivals, parades, and other events that revolved around the animals that fueled our small town’s economy, the holidays, and a celebration of small-town life, but rodeos seem to be an exclusive event reserved for larger, urban cities. Lonestar Junction being the exception, apparently.
Gravel crunches under the tires of Ryder’s truck as we pull up to theLonestar Revival Rodeonestled on the outskirts of the small town. The parking lot, a vast, repurposed cornfield, stretches out in hundreds of rows filled with lifted trucks and SUVs that look like they belong there.
Although Lonestar Junction is a small town, from what Ryder shared, the rodeo is one of its main attractions, drawing crowds from San Angelo and other neighboring cities. Ryder had also mentioned that the rodeo has been a local landmark for over eighty years now, serving as both a major employer for the city’s residences and a significant source of revenue for the community.
It’s another sweltering, sticky September day in Texas—the kind that makes you regret every life choice leading to steppingoutside. Thankfully, Shawna had the decency to spare me the humiliation of matching outfits with her 19- and 20-year-old bridesmaids. Instead, I’m comfortably dressed in light-wash Levi’s and a fitted white tank top, my hair pulled back in a ponytail and secured with a bright red headband. The rest of the girls are decked out in red dresses, while my sister—always the center of attention—rocks yet another white dress she picked for her bachelorette weekend. I figured the red headband was more than enough to show I was part of the group without going full matching again.
The girls hop out of the truck bed, giggling and chattering away as we head into the arena. I trail behind for a moment, letting the scene wash over me. Cowboys and cowgirls mingle under the blare of country music from competing speakers, the rich scent of livestock mixing with the unmistakable aroma of fried food that you just know is going to taste good and upset your stomach later. It’s loud, chaotic, and undeniablyTexas.
