But I couldn’t say we were actually together. There’d been, like, no defining the relationship or anything like that. Not that I was in any rush to do that. I didn’t need a label; I was perfectly content with what we had going on.
My hair was still a bit damp from the shower, but I found that the humidity here did wonders for my wavy hair. Besides, I wasn’t about to spend close to twenty minutes blow drying it for it to immediately go curly.
I glanced over at Hux as I drove us to the rodeo. He’d found a country station on my radio and hummed along to an older country song. Not gonna lie, I didn’t know who it was, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
Holy God, he was so damn hot it hurt. His light blue long-sleeve shirt had a peach and navy colored chevron pattern. It was a shame it hid most of his tattoos, but I admired the few on the back of his hand and wrist that peaked from beneath the fabric as he gripped my thigh. The desire thrumming in my ears drowned out everything and made me almost miss more than a couple turns. He’d opted for his straw hat again, while letting me know that summer was officially straw hat season and it would be like this until Labor Day. I didn’t care, I just liked that he looked so good in it.
“So, what can I expect tonight? What all events are there? Do girls rodeo too or is it just men?” I asked hesitantly.
He’d said he wanted to go, but I was terrified to set him off. This was such a monumental moment for him, the last thing I wanted to do was screw it all up.
He gave my thigh a gentle squeeze that just about melted me, and his face turned contemplative. “There’s quite a few events. Two for women in PRCA—breakaway roping and barrel racing.”I’d heard of the last one vaguely, but needed an explanation for the other.
“It’s similar to tie-down roping for men, except the women just have to rope the steer instead of hoppin’ off and tying it down after. Basically, you chase down a calf and rope it. It’s real quick. Them girls are fast.”
“Did you date any…” The words fell away like a whisper on the wind. God, did I sound as pathetic and insecure as I felt? What did it matter if he’d dated one? Well, I mean, I guess if there was the possibility of running into one of his exes it would be helpful to be prepared. Right?
Hux didn’t seem bothered at all. A soft chuckle and another reassuring squeeze came from him before he said, “Don’t worry, Darlin’. I didn’t date any rodeo girls.”
“Oh.” Well, that made me feel a bit lighter. “How come?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Rodeo girls are fuckin’ nuts. Walker says it’s just cuz I could never handle women, but that’s a damn lie.”
I laughed. “So, what about the men’s events?”
He gave me the total run down, from what the rough stock events were and how they were different from the timed ones. Bull riding was apparently a rough stock event, along with saddle bronc and bareback bronc riding. Then you had the timed events, including team roping, steer wrestling, which apparently one of the ranch hands, Brooks competed in. I hadn’t really had the opportunity to interact with much, but he seemed nice enough. A bit shy and bashful. Or was that Wyatt? There was also tie-down roping. That was Travis’ event. Hux even told me about mutton bustin’, what sounded like an adorable, albeit a bit dangerous event for the little kids involving them riding sheep.
I don’t know if he realized it, but the longer he talked the more the tension just washed off of him like mud rinsing away in a rain shower. There was this lightness, this easiness that tookover his voice, settled into the marrow of his bones. His harsh features had smoothed out, and the softest whisper of a smile toyed on his mouth.
But hearing him talk about the rodeo wasnothingcompared to actually seeing him there. It wasn’t a quick, obvious thing. In fact, at first I was worried that we’d made a horrible mistake. He’d gotten ridiculously quiet, his grip on my hand vice-like in its intensity. His breathing was sharp and shallow as he walked at my side, the only sound that of his leather cowboys and my, well, white fashion ones scuffing against the dirt. I was glad I’d opted to wear them even if I was worried I’d stick out like a sore thumb and look like a fraud. I hadn’t expected the rodeo to be outside, which was probably stupid, but I’d never been to one before.
“This is a small rodeo,” Hux clarified when I’d asked. “Not all of ‘em are indoors and in fancy arenas.”
An announcer and loud music blared over the speakers surrounding the place, mentioning something about five minutes until starting. A few stragglers still filed into line behind us as we made our way through the short line.
“Two tickets,” Hux said, fishing out his wallet as we settled before the pay station. I hadn’t even had time to grab for my purse. How had he possibly known we were at the front of the line? Was I just oblivious to my surroundings or was he hyperaware of things now? Probably a bit of both, but the latter seemed to be very true. He was always much more aware of things than me.
“That’ll be twenty-four dollars, sir,” the older woman replied.
“You take card or just cash?” he asked.
“Either, sir.”
He handed her his card, and I watched the moment recognition washed over her. Her eyes lit up, her mouth forminginto a shocked “O”. “Well, goodness me. Jack—Jack, get over here! It’s Huxson Lane!”
My heart clenched as every muscle in Hux stiffened. A muscle in his jaw feathered and his grip on my hand tightened a fraction. He was so still, I wondered if he was even breathing.
“I’m so sorry, sir, but my husband’s such a huge fan.”
Oh God. This was going to end poorly. I braced for the…I don’t know what to come, but from Hux’s stance, the stillness, the barely breathing, it couldn’t be good.
“Debby what the he—” The man’s words died on his lips as he took in Hux. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re—you’re…”
And then Hux surprised the hell out of me. He reached out his free hand and offered it between him and the older man. “Huxson Lane, sir. How’re you doin’ tonight?”
He spoke with such ease, held himself with such confidence it made my heart squeeze. This wasn’t the same gruff, closed-off, bitter cowboy I’d met a week ago, this was someone new. Or old, I guess. Maybe he was both now, but this was like getting a glimpse into the past. Into the man who I’d only seen in interviews and reels. At first I thought it was just a ruse, but as Hux stood there and chatted up the old man and his wife for a couple of minutes before paying for our tickets then making our way toward the grand stands, I realized this wasn’t an act. This was him. The real him.
And God he was beautiful.
