‘What’s the rush?’
‘You got a better idea, cowboy?’
I grin down at her. ‘Always.’
I open the door wider, gesturing with a nod for her to take a seat in the truck. She pauses for a beat, like she can’t bear to step away from me, then slides in. My hip misses her touch—my body craves her.
Her eyes fall on the house as I drive off, headed not to the road but down toward the stables. Her gaze shifts then turns to my face, but she doesn’t say anything, so I start to fill the silence, describing the ranch’s operations, what it was like when we were kids, how it runs now.
‘What happens if you guys disagree on something?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Like a business decision. Who gets to make the final call?’
‘Cole.’
She frowns. ‘Does that ever bother you?’
I tack around the back of the stables. The track here is less well-worn, a little bumpier. Moonlight casts a silver glow on the trees that line the property.
‘Firstly, we rarely disagree.’ I shrug. ‘Secondly, Cole has been learning to run this place his whole life. He was always the one who wanted it, who made it his life’s ambition.’
‘You didn’t want that for yourself?’
I consider that a few moments. ‘For a long time, I thought of this place as a millstone. I had a life I wanted to lead: out there.’ I nod toward the forest, to the world beyond Goodnight and Coyote Creek Ranch. ‘But the more time I spent away, the more it pulled at me. Each visit back felt like a real homecoming. Like I was suddenly where I needed to be. I don’t want to run the ranch though. I’m happy to help out, but it’s Cole’s thing.’
‘What will you do?’
My grip tightens on the wheel. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You must have thought about it.’
‘Honestly?’ I glance across at her. ‘I don’t want to.’
‘Beau.’ Her voice is soft, gentle. Like she’s about to be the bearer of bad news. ‘I know what it’s like to walk away from your dreams, but if nothing else, I’m proof that you can do it. When the time is right, you’ll give up bull riding, and you’ll find a new dream. Something else you love, that you’re great at.’
I roll my shoulders in an imitation of a shrug, then move the car off the track, cutting across a field, down toward the creek. This part of the property is as familiar to me as anything else on earth ever could be. I follow the curves of the banks without answering.
‘I heard a rumor you’ve been offered a reporting job,’ she says, voice soft and throaty.
‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Some journalist I got talking to the other night mentioned it.’ She hesitates. ‘Is it true?’
I nod slowly.
‘But you said no?’
‘I’m not ready to think about what comes next.’
‘But wouldn’t that be a way to have your cake and eat it too? You’d be a part of the world still, even when you’re not riding.’
I pull the car to a stop and angle my face to her, keeping my expression neutral. ‘You know how you don’t go to the ballet anymore? Because it’s too hard to see other people doing what you can’t?’
Her features soften into a mask of sympathy.
‘I reckon I’ll probably feel the same.’
