The more I sing, the better Ryder plays. The notes get louder. Bigger. My heart feels bigger too. So big that I worry it’s going to burst clear out of my chest.
I’m sad when the song ends. Ryder’s hand drops from the strings, and I hunch forward a little, suddenly shy. The quiet in the barn is so loud I wonder if it’s alive too, just like I am, and Ryder too, and the horses and all the cowboys sleeping in the bunkhouse next door.
Ryder’s eyes areblue. Not regular blue, butblueblue. What I imagine the color of a tropical sea would look like.
“I like that song.” He shifts, rotating the guitar out of his lap. “What’s the name?”
Disappointment settles over me like a wet blanket.Do we really have to be done?But I didn’t want to be out here with Ryder in the first place. Why do I feel short of breath at the idea of him leaving?
“It’s called ‘Love Story.’”
Standing, he grins. “Of course it is. Want me to walk you back? I’m pretty tired, and I know you need your rest too.”
“Um. Sure. Yeah.”
He holds out his hand, and I take it. Helping me up, he tucks the guitar underneath his arm. Then we walk together in silence back to the house.
I don’t sleep a wink. Instead, I stay up thinking about Ryder. How happy he looked playing his guitar. How much better I feel after spending time with him.
You should’ve told him that.
Ryder was wrong. Girls scare just as easy as boys.
We’re just better at hiding it.
CHAPTER 1
First Rodeo
RYDER
PRESENT DAY
September
Cowgirls.
They’re everywhere I look. In the stands. On horseback in the arena.
A particularly cute one with dark hair approaches down the wide walkway that wraps around the stadium. My body perks up, warm with interest.
I always enjoy the rodeo, mostly because it’s the perfect place to pick up cute girls I don’t know for hookups I may or may not remember.
I like brunettes. Especially ones in cowboy hats and chaps.
There’s a pervy little saying that cowboys ride harder and stay on longer. I’ve found the same is true about cowgirls too.
But when I see that this cowgirl is Billie Wallace, I immediately hit the brakes on whatever, er,interestI was feeling. Before I can duck into a nearby restroom, however, she spots me. She throws up her arms, her face lighting up.
“Ry! Hey!” She jogs toward me, the tassels on her fancy rodeo chaps flying. “You came!”
She barrels into me and wraps me in a fierce hug. She’s…Christ, soft in all the right places. She also smells real fucking good. More sultry than sweet, like juicy, just-picked peaches.
I close my eyes and take a silent, steadying breath. It’s like she’s trying even harder than usual to push my fucking buttons tonight, and I am not here for it.
I’m not dead. Of course I know how gorgeous my best friend’s baby sister is. She may be the girl next door, but she’s also pretty in a movie star kind of way, with a wide, white smile, dark hair, and hazel eyes that are the color of the Colorado River at sunset. More green than brown, except when she’s pissed. Then her irises are straight whiskey—they burn right through you.
Duke was just warning me to keep my distance when we drove over to the Wallace’s to pick up a horse we bought from them recently. And I do. Usually, anyway. But she and I are both flirts, and in the past, I’ve let myself slip up a few times. What can I say? I like the attention.
