"The situation is that tonight is Sienna's last night in Wyoming." Her green eyes gleamed. "And we just walked past The Slack down the street. The official rodeo after-party is kicking off. There’s a live band."
"No," I said. "Look at us. We got trampled. We're eating, and then we're going to sleep."
"You're a buzzkill, is what you are," Colt said, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Besides, you kind of have to make an appearance. Look at this."
He tossed the phone onto the bed. The paused video showed me shielding Sienna in the dirt of the alley.
"Someone filmed the whole thing," he said, grinning. "Already got a hundred thousand views. Figure if I walk in that bar and tell them I'm the Cheyenne Superman's brother, I'm drinkin’ for free all night."
"Great point," Wren chimed in.
Colt scowled. "Please. You don't need his name to get anything. Cowboys buy you drinks just for breathing. Which reminds me, if that bull rider from Texas so much as looks at you tonight, I'm throwing hands."
"You’re so dramatic." Wren rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to me. "Brock, seriously. You just won Cheyenne."
I stared at the cardboard box. Wren was right. Winning this rodeo secured a huge step toward the NFR. But instead of relief,a hollow ache crushed my chest. The empty chair at the dinner table loomed over me.
"I don't want to celebrate in a bar full of drunk people," I said.
"It's not about you," Wren shot back. "It's about Sienna. She flew out here, put up with your grumpy ass for a whole month, and basically saved you. We're not spending her last night stuck in a Best Western while you sit there scowling."
"Wren, he's injured…" Sienna said softly.
But her voice had a sad little edge to it. I glanced over at her.
"He's got one good arm," Colt said with a grin. "He can hold a beer just fine. You deserve a real send-off, Sienna."
Sienna looked at my brother, then at my sister, who was giving her the ultimate puppy-dog eyes. Finally, her gaze landed on me.
The heat from ten minutes ago was still there. I could still feel her hands on my chest. Still taste the almost-kiss.
She didn't want to let it go either.
I held her eyes. "Okay."
Wren traded a grin with Colt.
I didn't say another word as the room exploded into motion. Colt had ruined it here in the hotel room, but I wasn't going to let it end like this. I had one night left. One night to finish that kiss.
And one night to figure out how to stop her from getting on that damn plane.
twelve
. . .
SIENNA
My hair was still damp from the fastest shower in history. The fresh bandage Wren had taped over Brock's shoulder looked clean and white under his T-shirt. He'd grumbled the whole time she worked on him, but he let her do it.
Now he was standing under a bright neon beer sign at the bar, arms crossed, looking ready to murder someone. Next to him, three drunk cowboys were loudly reenacting the alley incident, complete with one guy using his fingers as horns and charging at his buddy like a bull.
"I'll take four tequila shots," Colt said, slapping his hand on the sticky bar. "Put them on the guy in the blue Stetson’s tab. He just offered to buy my brother’s drinks."
I stayed tucked safely between Colt and Wren, using the crowd as a shield. The loud fiddles and chatter were exactly what I needed tonight.
As long as I kept twenty feet and a wall of drunk people between me and Brock, I wouldn't have to think about the quiet hotel room. I wouldn't have to think about how a man that rough could touch me so gently, or the heat of his chest under my hands, or how much I didn't want to leave tomorrow.
"He's going to kill them," I said, leaning closer to Wren so she could hear me over the band. "Or he's going to kill Colt."
