He frowns. ‘I’m not doing this right. I don’t mean to make it sound like she didn’t matter. She did. She does. Ash is a special girl. But when I decided to get back on the circuit, she told me it was over.’
‘So she dumped you?’
‘She was like the rest of my family—hated the idea of me riding bulls week in and week out.’
I bite the inside of my cheek. ‘And that’s the only reason it ended?’
‘It wasn’t like a thing to end.’ He sounds exasperated. ‘I didn’t care if she saw other guys, and she was the same with me. The main thing is we were friends, sometimes more.’
‘Were?’
‘Are,’ he corrects, frowning a little though.
‘Do you see her often?’
‘Nah.’ Another quirk downward of his lips. ‘I’m not usually back for long enough. Every now and again she’ll come to an event, or I’ll make a point of going round to see her and the family, but it’s not like it used to be.’
I stare out the window at the passing scenery. When we first left Goodnight, we were surrounded by leafy, ancient forests. The air was clear and clean, scented with pine, but now it’s changing, green giving way to the red of dusty deserts and canyon walls in the distance.
‘We grew up,’ he says. ‘Life happens, things change.’
‘Yeah.’ I frown though, because I can’t help but wonder what would have happened with him and Ash if he hadn’t gone back to bull riding. ‘Did she try to get you to stay?’
‘She tried to get me to quit,’ he corrects subtly.
‘But you didn’t.’
‘It’s not up to anyone to tell me what to do with my life.’
My lips pull to the side as I consider that.
‘But I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. The job in reporting. I’m going to have a meeting with them, later in the year. Just to hear a bit more about it.’
‘You are?’ Surprise surges through me, followed quickly by relief.
He nods. ‘I’d be stupid to rule it out, without at least learning more. I know I can’t do this forever.’
He reaches back out, covers my hand with his. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Ash sooner. I just … didn’t think there was anything to tell.’
‘It’s fine,’ I murmur, squeezing his hand back then removing mine. ‘Like I said, you have a past, and it’s none of my business.’ I force lightness into my tone, hating that it feels so forced. ‘We’ve got four more nights, cowboy, and then you’re rid of me for good.’
‘Yeah,’ he says, with a matching lightness in his voice—I wonder if he’s faking it, just like I am.
The hotel in Phoenix is your standard four star, with corporate decor, crisp white bed linens and all the facilities. But after staying at the Silver Spur it feels soulless and dull, and almost makes me want to scream for how impersonal it is. I yearn to be back in Goodnight, in that country-furnished room above the bar, with the view out onto the charming historic main street that probably hasn’t changed much since the first stone was laid.
Here, the view from my room is of the outer suburbs of Phoenix, all flat white roofs with sparse trees in between. If I crane my neck to the east, I can see the stadium’s domed roof, the enormous place the venue for tomorrow night’s first event of the weekend.
I turn away from it as a kaleidoscope of butterflies stirs inside my stomach; just thinking of Beau in there, doing his thing,makes me both excited and nervous. And proud as well—a pride I probably have no business feeling, but do.
Beau was very coy about whatever he’s got planned for tonight, but he insisted I dress up and keep an open mind. Which could mean just about anything. I’ve googled the area—we’re near a casino and a famous restaurant, and there’s a scenic viewpoint about twenty minutes away. Any and all of these things could be on the agenda.
I cross the carpeted floor when there’s a knock at the door, my smile lifting of its own accord when I see Beau on the other side.
For once, he’s not in jeans. My cowboy’s wearing khakis and a white button-down, but his trademark hat is still firmly in place, and a thick brown belt with a huge buckle that makes my fingers reach out to touch. Not just his belt, but all of Beau.
‘Howdy,’ I say with a grin.
He returns it, then steps inside, sweeping me into his arms and kissing me like we haven’t seen each other in weeks. ‘You look good enough to eat,’ he complains, when we surface for air.
