Six days later, Hank pushed End on the call he’d just made, then set his phone on top of the nearest fence post and stared at it as if he expected his message to be returned immediately. Not likely, when it was the final Saturday of the National Finals Rodeo and the recipient was in Las Vegas.
A sensible man would’ve waited until next week, but now that he’d decided he wanted to stay on the ranch, the urge to set his scheme in motion was irresistible. His plan didn’t hinge entirely on the result of that phone call, but if he could get his—actually their—foot in that golden door, it would make everything a damn sight easier.
All he could do was wait, which was the other reason he’d made the call today, the final day of his moratorium on getting naked with Grace. It had been worth the pain—he hoped. There were times when she looked at him a certain way and his heart swelled, but there were others when she seemed to be deliberately fighting what he thought he saw in her eyes.
Just keep showing up. And Sunday he didn’t intend to leave her apartment unless the place caught fire.
Tonight, though, they would cheer Delon toward what would hopefully be another world championship, and the hardest fought of the three. He and the Canadian kid had slugged it out all week, trading one jaw-dropping ride for another, and leaving the rest of the field in their dust.
Delon’s only setback had come in the eighth round, when his horse didn’t buck hard enough to score more than the seventy-nine points Delon had eked out, while his rival won second place and closed the gap both in the world standings and in the aggregate score.
So it had come down to the tenth and final ride. If Delon maintained his top position in the aggregate, he would collect thirteen thousand dollars more than his pursuer, meaning the kid would have to win no less than third place in tonight’s go ’round to overtake him.
But Delon could not get bucked off, and he had drawn what might be the rankest bronc Hank had ever seen.
Hank could only imagine how Delon felt, waiting out those excruciating hours before he climbed down into the chute, nodded for the gate, and let the final battle rage.
Until then…Hank dug a pencil out of his pocket and started walking the arena, stopping to wiggle each post, tallying the rotten ones on the back of an envelope. He’d worked his way clear to the other end of the three-hundred-foot-long fence when his phone rang.
He spun around and sprinted clear back to the other end to snatch the phone off the post, then saw the number and tamped his heart back down into his chest. He let it go two more rings while he caught his breath, then punched the green button.
“Hey, Korby. What’s up?”
* * *
The noise in the gym was approaching jet-engine decibels.
With only eighteen seconds left in the heavyweight match against Canyon, the Bluegrass wrestler got an escape to break a 3–3 tie. The screams rose to a fever pitch, Grace straining forward with the rest of the crowd as both sides exhorted their man with “Shoot! Shoot!” “Takedown!” and “Move your feet!”
Just as the Canyon wrestler went low and got hold of an ankle, the towel came flying in to end the match. The Bluegrass team and fans roared, while Canyon groaned. As the boys met in the middle of the mat and the referee held up her wrestler’s hand in victory, Grace’s phone buzzed.
Her heart bumped when she saw the text from Hank. Change of plans for tonight. Call me when you have a chance.
There was a fifteen-minute break between matches, and the lighter-weight wrestlers spilled onto the mats to roll each other around or jump rope in the corners, prepping for the beginning of the second round. The bigger boys refueled with water and energy drinks and grazed from lunch coolers packed with bananas, oranges, and the old standby for quick energy—peanut butter sandwiches.
Grace meandered from one group to another, checking to see if anyone needed anything from her before retreating to the back hallway to call Hank.
“Hey, sunshine,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“We won the dual against Canyon. Amarillo will be another matter.”
“Isn’t it always?”
“Pretty much.” As one of the biggest schools in their division, Amarillo High tended to dominate the smaller towns like Bluegrass. She fought to sound totally cool when she asked, “What’s up with our plans for tonight?”
“Korby called to nag me about coming to the big tenth-round viewing party at the Lone Steer. I’ve barely seen him since I’ve been back, and I hate to blow him off again. Wanna go?”
Grace cringed. The bar would be packed, much of the crowd the schoolmates who’d been Hank’s friends…but not hers. The thought of walking into the Lone Steer with Hank made her shrivel right down to the roots.
“I know,” he said quietly. “It’ll be mostly the same people who were there the last time, but that’s the point. Let them all see me trailing after you like a whipped pup. You can kick me in the balls and stomp out if you want. Lord knows you’ve got a free shot coming.”
Was that why he wanted her there? Another line item ticked off his list of wrongs to be set right? “It’s been a really long week…”
“You’ll be home in time for a nap. And if Delon wins, it’ll be a hell of a party. Come with me, Grace. It’ll be fun.”
For him, maybe. Everyone Grace wanted to party with was in Las Vegas. Without Shawnee, Tori, and Violet, who would she even talk to?
“I’ll be there at eight thirty,” Hank said. “We’ll watch the bareback riding, then leave if you want.”
But in the meantime, all those hundreds of pairs of eyes would see them, and all those mouths would be talking. Putting together the pieces? Oh my God, he’s with Grace. Do you remember when he said…and how she took off…
What could she say, though? I’m too paranoid to be with you in public? She heaved a resigned sigh. An hour, maybe two. She could manage that much, couldn’t she? “Okay. I’ll be ready.”
He gave a happy whoop and promised she wouldn’t regret it.
Yeah. She’d heard that before. As she made her way back out to the wrestling mats, she realized that her high school fantasy had finally come true. Hank Brookman was taking her to the cool kids’ party.
And she was dreading every minute of it.
* * *
It had occurred to Hank that his dad would probably also like to go watch the rodeo, and that it would be rude to leave Bing sitting at the apartment, so when he went in for lunch, he eyed Johnny over plates of green-bean casserole.
“You’ve been driving around here just fine. I don’t suppose you could sneak down, pick Bing up, and bring her to the Lone Steer tonight? You could hit the prime rib special.”
Johnny’s mouth went mulish. “I’m not calling to ask her.”
Hank rolled his eyes. “I’ll do it. And if she can’t stand to be in the same pickup with you for the five minutes it takes to drive out to the Lone Steer, that’s her choice.”
“What about you?”
“I’m taking Grace.”
Johnny’s brows shot up. “That’ll set the town buzzing.”
“I know.”
And that was exactly the point. Like the decades of graffiti on the ramshackle barn just outside Earnest, he wanted to paint over his old, ugly words with something bright and shiny. And he’d keep adding layer after layer until, even in Grace’s mind, there was nothing left of that night but a faint memory.