by Mia Hopkins
“What would be enough time?”
Feeling lame, Harmony referred to an article she’d read on the Internet. “Between relationships, I’ve heard you should wait a month for every year you were with your ex.”
Cece looked at her with skepticism. “’A month for every year,’” she repeated. “Says who?”
Harmony gave her a sheepish shrug. “People.”
“People, huh? Tell me. The way you feel about Lucky, do you think this is just a fling?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t.”
“And how about Lucky? Is he interested in starting something serious with you?”
“I think so, but I can’t be sure.” She sighed. She wished she could look into men’s brains and see what they were thinking. It would make life infinitely easier for everyone. “But I used him, Auntie Cece.” Guilt washed over Harmony yet again. “I used him to make myself feel better. Like he was an object, not even a person.”
“It’s good you’re acknowledging that. But knowing Lucky, I’m guessing he didn’t mind being used by you,” said Cece. “That boy’s carried a torch for you for years.”
Years—Harmony’d had no idea. Even her Auntie Cece had known how Lucky felt. “But that’s bad karma, though, isn’t it? Turning a rebound into a relationship? Shouldn’t I give it more time?”
“There’s never a good time for anything, Harmony.” Cece leaned against the Jeep and smoothed down her dress. “Hey, want to know a secret?”
“What?”
“Now this is something no one knows but me, Dale, and Dr. Lamont.” Cece smiled. “You ready?”
Harmony nodded, her interest piqued. “Sure.”
“Dean—he wasn’t born premature. He was born right on time.”
“You mean you were—?”
Cece nodded. “Big church wedding. Behind that bouquet I was three months pregnant. Dean was the reason Dale and I got married. Neither of us had planned on any of it. To tell the truth, neither of us was particularly keen on getting hitched. We had no idea if it was the right decision. We did it anyway. And looking at how our lives turned out, it was the best decision we could’ve made.” She wagged a finger at Harmony. “Don’t you go spreading that news around, Harmony Santos. It might have been thirty-eight years ago, but Oleander loves its scandals wherever it can get them.”
“I won’t say a word,” said Harmony.
“Now you listen to me. You say that you used Lucky. But there’s another side of that equation. Lucky gave himself to you that night.” She paused. “I’m going to say a word that scares young people. Are you ready?”
Harmony nodded.
“That’s what love is, dear. Giving. Back and forth. You give and he gives, replenishing each other. Making each other stronger, every day. Do you understand?” She took Harmony’s hand. “I never knew the joy of daughters until you and Melody came into my life. Your sister’s crazy and you’re even crazier, but even if you were my own blood, I couldn’t love you more. Here’s the advice I have to give you. Look where we’re standing.” She motioned to the gravestones around them. “Life is short. Like I said, there’s never a good time for anything. So don’t you ever be afraid to give. Don’t you ever be afraid to say what’s in your heart. And most of all—listen to me, Harmony Santos—don’t you ever be afraid to love.”
Payson. Round ten. The deepening sky threatened another psychedelic Arizona sunset. The rodeo arena was full. Excitement infused the pine-scented air. After checking his rigging for the hundredth time, Lucky sat still in his saddle and tried to relax behind the bustling chutes.
Breathe. Stay sharp.
This was a big show, one of the oldest in the country. Tonight, Lucky and his closest competitor, a two-time world finals qualifier from Oklahoma named Tanner Thomas, were duking it out for a spot at this year’s world finals. Round for round, they chased each other in the standings, coming up neck-and-neck at last, adding drama to the highly technical tie-down roping event. This was their last chance to accumulate the winnings that would determine whether they made it to world finals or stayed home and watched the other guy on TV.
But for Lucky, this final round meant much more than a trip to Vegas and a gold buckle. He’d never come this close to finals in all the years he’d been a calf roper. This was a chance to prove to himself that he’d made it—that he belonged here just as much as the next cowboy.
His horse nickered. He rubbed Batman’s neck and looked once again at the standings. The time to beat was 8.2 seconds. Three more ropers were up before him. He was second-to-last. Tanner had the last spot this go-round.
Moments like this Lucky relied on the discipline he’d built up over years of competition. Long hours on the road, variations in weather and other environmental conditions, equipment failure, bad horse days—lots of things conspired to ruin a performance. The one constant was a cowboy’s attitude. And he’d worked hard to earn full control over his.
Well…except for one thing. He reached into his pocket and checked his phone. No calls.
Ever since he’d arrived in Arizona, Lucky texted Harmony every night. He liked to send her photos. Batman smiling, oats in her teeth. Sunset over the pines. The one lunchtime he splurged on a piece of fry bread. In response, Harmony sent him photos too. A colorful thank-you card drawn by a little girl who’d had an appendectomy. A pair of fancy pink cowboy boots in a store window. A pancake she’d made for herself that looked inadvertently like Voldemort. And once—Lucky would never delete the photo, as long as he lived—a morning selfie in her silk robe, raising a glass of orange juice to toast his performance.
She called him twice—late-night phone calls, her voice sweet and sexy in his ear. As they talked about their days and teased each other, he lay on the lumpy mattress in his trailer, looking out his tiny window at stars twinkling in the dark blue sky. He was pretty damn sure he was falling in love.
Yesterday, he’d gone on a walk to clear his head. On a well-kept residential street in Payson, he’d found a small patch of purple flowers growing in the front yard of a house. He’d snapped a quick photo and texted it to Harmony. Just like your painting, right? Thinking of you.
Then…nothing. She hadn’t called or texted back since. This was his big night. He’d checked his phone more times than he cared to admit. A small part of him was annoyed, both at himself and at her. But why? They weren’t together. She had no obligation to keep playing with him. And she was busy—her hours at the hospital were tough.
Lucky tucked his phone away and frowned at himself. Get your head in the game.
For all his experience, he’d never had a girlfriend. An unpredictable future and distinct lack of resources had long kept him from pursuing anything serious. Which seemed fine by the women he’d known—they were content to fade in and out of his life, interested only in what he could offer them in bed.
But Harmony. She was different. She’d always been different.
He’d call her tonight after the final round. Whatever the results, this rodeo had already lodged itself in his memory as one of his favorites—the first time he’d come close to qualifying for world finals, but also the first time he hadn’t felt lonely on the road, all because of the girl on the other side of his phone. Whatever lay in the future for them, he’d always have this time to remember. For now, that was enough.
Another roper completed his run. Some trouble flanking the calf had resulted in a 12.3 time. Batman nickered again, as if she understood that there was one fewer person standing between them and finals.
“Garcia!”
Lucky turned around. By the chutes stood a team roper whose name Lucky couldn’t remember. “What’s up?”
“Someone’s looking for you.” The man pointed behind Lucky at the stands.
Confused, Lucky turned around and squinted into the slanting sunlight. He lowered the brim of his hat to get a better look at the faces in the crowd. Leaning way over the rails were three women, waving and whistling at him.
&nbs
p; One of the other calf ropers laughed at him. “Some of your groupies, Luck?”
Lucky walked Batman over. Closer to the stands, the women came into focus.
No way.
His mother. His sister. And standing between them, Harmony, an enormous smile on her face.
Joy and surprise surged inside him. Barriers separated them, but he would’ve jumped over anything to reach them if he could. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We wanted to surprise you!” Araceli shouted. “We almost didn’t make it, but Harmony drives like a maniac!”
He looked from Harmony to his sister to his mother. “Where are you sitting?”
“Over there!” His sister pointed out a section in the bleachers.
Applause filled the arena. Another roper had just finished his run—and a good one too. Now the new time to beat was 7.9 seconds. Lucky’s heart ached, pulled in too many directions. “I’m almost up.” He was at a loss for words. “I’ll find you afterwards.”
“Good luck!” shouted Harmony. A golden slash of sunshine fell across her beautiful face as she turned one last time to wave at him. “We’ll be cheering for you!”
Lucky watched as they disappeared back into the crowd. Then he turned his attention back to the calf-roping box. The roper before him was about to start his run. Still giddy with surprise, Lucky made his way over to the box.
A few seconds later and the next roper was done too. His horse dragged the calf too far. The best time for the round was still 7.9 seconds. And now it was Lucky’s turn.
As he got into the rider’s box, Lucky adjusted his feet in his stirrups and got his ropes in order. Standing against the back wall, Batman was still, her eyes on the breakaway nylon barrier stretched across the open side of the box. A handler stood in the box with Lucky, all three of them waiting as the calf was placed in its adjacent chute.
Ten thousand hours of practice. Muscle memory. Discipline. Desire. All of it came together in this moment. Lucky clenched the piggin’ string in his teeth. Heart booming in his chest, he gave his nod.
The calf bolted out. Lucky swung his lasso. The barrier was released, and Batman exploded out of the box, all of her attention focused on the little black calf.
Lucky roped the calf, closed the loop, and pitched his slack. The calf stayed on its feet, facing the horse. Lucky dismounted off the right side of Batman and raced down the rope anchored to his saddle. As Batman kept the rope taut, Lucky flanked the calf and grabbed three of its legs as it fought him. Time seemed to slow down. Lucky rallied. After two lightning-fast wraps and a hooey, he threw his hands in the air to stop the clock. He remounted Batman and put slack in the rope. The calf kicked but couldn’t get free.
The crowd erupted. His time appeared on the scoreboard.
Adrenaline still pounding in his bloodstream, Lucky looked up at last.
Holy shit.
He’d performed a textbook run. And he’d done it fast—7.1 seconds. One of his best times all season.
Lucky took off his hat and waved at the crowd as their cheers roared in his ears. He faced the section where his family sat and blew kisses towards them, even though he couldn’t spot them from where he stood. He exited the arena and exhaled at last.
Now for the last run. Tanner Thomas. The rangy Oklahoman was in his mid-thirties. Years of experience showed in his technique. On the circuit, Lucky and Tanner had become good friends. Calf-roping was an event built on technical ability. But when rankings depended on tenths of a second, luck affected results just as much as skill.
Lucky rubbed Batman’s neck once more. “Good girl,” he whispered. “Let’s see what happens now.”
Lucky’s performance took Harmony’s breath away. Tall and handsome in the saddle, he wore a black cowboy hat, jeans, boots, and a long-sleeve shirt decorated with patches from his sponsors. He clenched a rope in his teeth. When the calf broke free, he swung his lasso and roped it in a heartbeat. She gasped when he did a flying dismount and sprinted towards the calf. Muscles bulging, he picked up and threw the 250-pound calf. He had tied its legs so fast, she didn’t even see him do it.
When his run was finished, Araceli and Harmony jumped up cheering. They hugged each other when his time appeared on the scoreboard. And they screamed like maniacs when the announcers said he’d taken over the first-place spot for Round 10. Lucky’s mother grabbed Harmony’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Her eyes were bright with happiness.
This trip had been one of the craziest things Harmony had ever done. At exactly four o’clock yesterday afternoon, she was leaving the hospital, bone tired after another long shift. Her phone buzzed. She took it out and looked at the text.
Just like your painting, right? Thinking of you.
Was it possible to fall in love with someone over a text? Harmony wasn’t a romantic. Never had been. But the snapshot Lucky sent had stopped her in her tracks. Bright purple flowers, sage green leaves. The picture was so beautiful, her heart leaped.
The same old arguments bubbled up in her head. Common knowledge stated that rebounds weren’t meant to last. She and Frank had been together for a year. Wasn’t she supposed to spend time on her own to regroup and get right with the world? Wasn’t she supposed to need space from men? By that school of thought, any relationship she started with Lucky would be doomed from the start.
But no one had ever made her feel this way before.
The sex was spectacular—no doubt about that. And these few days spent apart from him had given her time to think about Lucky in a different context. His texts made her smile. She looked forward to their nighttime conversations—he was funny and observant, as smart as he was sexy. Frank was smart, but Lucky was smart in a different way. Instead of using his intelligence to separate himself from the world the way Frank did, Lucky used his intelligence to become more connected to the people around him. His heart was wide open.
Auntie Cece’s words echoed in her ears. Life is short. There’s never a good time for anything. So don’t you ever be afraid to give. Don’t you ever be afraid to love.
In that moment, Harmony knew the truth. Lucky had given himself to her their first night together. Now it was her turn—she could give something back to him.
She got on the phone. First, she called her boss and requested some last-minute time off. She called Araceli and her mother to make impromptu arrangements for Arizona. She called Georgia and asked to borrow the MacKinnons’ minivan. In a frantic rush, she took the minivan for an oil change, gassed it up, washed it, and vacuumed out the Cheerios. She looked up Payson on her GPS and made a room reservation at the local Indian casino and resort.
Wired on caffeine and her own recklessness, Harmony picked up Lucky’s mother and sister in the morning and drove eight hours straight to see her man. And even though this was crazy and impulsive—crazy and impulsive even for her—she’d known in her heart it was the right thing to do.
The announcer introduced the final rider. Tanner Thomas from Oklahoma.
In the stands, Araceli grabbed Harmony’s other hand. The three women, linked together by Lucky, stared expectantly at the last rider in the box.
His white hat bobbed as the rider nodded. The calf broke free and the horse lunged after it.
As soon as it had started, it was over. Tanner Thomas had tied the calf. When his time went up, Harmony’s heart tumbled out of her chest.
Seven seconds flat. The two-time world finals qualifier had qualified for Las Vegas yet again. The stands thundered with applause.
“One tenth of a second?” Araceli got to her feet, an indignant scowl on her face. “What the heck?”
Lucky’s mother took Araceli’s hand and said something to her in Spanish.
“But it’s not fair, Mamá!” the teenager said. Tears welled in her eyes. “He worked so hard for this. Harder than anyone.”
Her mother nodded and embraced her. Araceli sobbed and wiped her eyes with the Kleenex that had appeared magically out of her mother’s purse.
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�Come on,” Harmony said softly. “Let’s go see Lucky.”
Second place came with a check for three grand—much-needed money for Araceli’s college fund. Happy not to come up empty-handed, Lucky treated Harmony, his mother, and his sister to a hamburger dinner in town. As he drove them back to the hotel, he laughed at the bug-spattered windshield of the minivan, the chocolate bar wrappers and empty boxes of coconut water stashed under the seats, and the Taylor Swift and Carrie Underwood playing on loop through the speakers.
“I still can’t believe you’re all here,” he said in both English and Spanish.
He took advantage of their hotel room and enjoyed a much-needed hot shower. Then the girls got ready and he brought them all to the rodeo dance. Live music, soda, beer, and cowboys—Araceli squealed and ran straight to the dance floor, their mother keeping an eagle eye on his precocious and pretty seventeen-year-old sister.
After a lazy two-step, Lucky lowered his lips to Harmony’s ear. “Want to take a walk with me?”
She looked into his eyes and nodded.
They walked hand-in-hand past the parking lot and the edge of the rodeo grounds. The fresh mountain air was cold and Lucky hung his jacket on Harmony’s shoulders. Their boots crunched on the pitted asphalt. The night sky was clear, studded with bright, fat stars.
When they were out among the shadowy pines, Lucky leaned against a tree, pulled Harmony close, and kissed her long and deep. He stroked her cold cheeks and the warm skin on the back of her neck underneath her hair. She wrapped her arms around him and sighed, a soft, sweet sound that pierced his heart. This girl had driven almost six hundred miles to see him. She’d even thought to bring his mother and his sister to see him compete—a luxury for a family that needed to watch every penny.
