I’d hardly call myself a celebrity, but I see where Sophie’s dragging me. “You’re serious?”
“You go up, I go up,” she promises me, but I have a feeling she’s fibbing. “Come on, Cowboy, don’t you want to see me in a wet T-shirt?”
The dunk tank is an annual standard of the Fourth Festival, run by the local high school to raise money. This year the sign says the funds are for the music program. As I approach, I see Doc Jones throwing a ball at the target, dunking the high school principal to cheers from the small crowd. “Nice throw, Doc.”
He turns, smiling. “Well now, James and Sophie. Happy Fourth. You enjoying yourself, Sophie?”
“This is great!” Sophie exclaims happily. “The Ferris wheel was awesome; I could see over most of town at the top.”
“Well, you two have fun. Just don’t overdo it,” Doc adds in his quiet way. “This is the sort of town with sharp ears and long tongues. Don’t get caught misbehaving.”
“Will do, Doc,” Sophie says, her smile never wavering. “You might want to stick around and watch me dunk James, though.”
I roll my eyes, playing along a little as she negotiates with the dunk-tank people. In the end, it takes a guaranteed fifty-dollar contribution and a few whispered promises from her to me, but I soon find myself bootless, sitting on the platform with my hat on my head.
“You sure you don’t want to lose that Stetson?” Sophie taunts me, tossing the softball up and down in her hand. “I guess this is the wrong time to tell you I used to play sports in high school.”
“Sorry, you can’t get me with that,” I taunt back. “You already told me you were a total girly girl in high school.”
“Yeah, well . . . I still think you’re taking a bath,” Sophie says. She rears back and throws the first of four shots, missing the target by a good foot.
“Oh, so close! At this rate, I’m gonna have a great seat up here for the fireworks!”
“Keep talking, Cowboy,” Sophie says before unleashing another throw. This one’s closer, clanging off the target arm, but too far inside, and my seat’s still secure. “One more shot is all I need!”
Suddenly, she switches the ball from her right hand to her left and rears back, uncorking a fastball that clangs on target. I don’t even have time to protest before I’m plunged into the water, dousing myself all the way and getting water up my nose before I come up.
“What the—?” I cough, grabbing my hat, which is floating jauntily on top of the water. “I didn’t know you were left-handed!”
“I’m not, but I can throw lefty,” Sophie says, smiling. “You’re right, I didn’t play ball in high school . . . I played Little League a year or two, though.”
I climb out of the tank, grab Sophie, and pull her close, letting her absorb some of the water that’s still streaming off me before kissing her deeply. “Well, I’d say you played me well,” I purr in her ear. “I guess you get to be in charge for the rest of the festival . . . after a stop by the truck to change into some dry clothes, you ringer.”
“Great,” Sophie says, stepping back. I watch a drop of water race down her flushed chest, disappearing into her cleavage, and I’m struck by an urge to chase it with my tongue, lapping it up to make her squeal. But before I can follow through, she teases me, “Now that my diabolical plan to get you wet was victorious, let’s get some food.”
After a quick change behind the door of my truck, where Sophie peeked more than she acted as guard, she leads me over to the food area. Looking around, she chooses homemade corn dogs. “There. I want one of those, please.”
We enjoy our food, run into Luke, and I buy him a sandwich like I promised. As the sun starts to set, everyone moves over to the big grassy area, where they’ve set up a bunch of the Little League bleachers. I have another idea in mind and grab a blanket out of the back of my truck before taking Sophie’s hand, pulling her toward the street.
“Where are we going?” she asks as I lead her toward a small alley near the back of the field complex. “I’m into a lot of things and willing to try even more, but a dirty alley isn’t really my taste.”
I grin at her as she looks around like the few bits of trash on the ground are gonna jump up and bite her. “Prissy aren’t we, Princess? Trust me, I’m not fucking you in the alley. I just want to have a little privacy. C’mon.”
I can feel her eyes boring into my back as I lead her to the far end of the alley and a small cinder-block building. The door’s tightly secured, so I hand her the blanket and give the doorknob a firm lift before banging it to the right.
It pops open in front of us, and she gasps. “James Bennett, are we breaking into this building? Didn’t you hear Doc say to behave ourselves?”
She’s joking, fake indignation in every word, so I grin, taking her by the hand again. “Yep, he said don’t get caught misbehaving, so you’d better sneak your fine ass in this door before someone comes and catches us.”
I peek over her shoulder, forcing my eyes wide and basically shoving her inside the dark space on the other side of the door.
“Oh my gosh,” Sophie whispers, scared. “Was someone coming? Did they see?”
In the dark, I grin, knowing I’ve gotten her. “Did who see what? Nobody was there but us.”
She growls, a false sound of frustration as she presses in tight to me, swatting my chest with her tiny hand. “So, is this the big plan? Breaking and entering and then hanging in a dark . . . closet?”
I take her hands, turn my back to her, and place them on my waist. “Follow me. There’s another door, and that’s where we’re going.”
I feel her hands clenching my belt loops, but she follows me step for step as I lead her out the door, up a flight of dark stairs, pausing at another door.
“Thank you for trusting me,” I tell her when we reach the top. “This is what we’re here for . . .”
With a twist of my hand on the knob and just a bit of dramatic revelation, I expose the rooftop space where I plan for us to watch the fireworks.
On Saturdays during Little League season, it’s a lounge or loft for volunteers who just want to relax a little after a hot day of organizing, with old patio furniture sitting against one wall. But tonight, with the fireworks show being overhead, I spread the blanket and guide Sophie to sit down.
“So, uh, how exactly did you know we’d be able to get up here? Seems like you’ve done that a time or two before. Was this your special spot to take all the Bennett Babes in high school?”
Even in the dim light from the festival below, I can see her batting her lashes as she jokes around. “No, actually this was my spot. I discovered this place one time when Pops volunteered to be an umpire for Little League. It sort of became my place to hide when I’d raised a little too much hell in school. Later, it was just my cooldown place when I needed to get away. Being up here let me see far beyond the scope of town. In the daylight, you can see all the way into the city, to the world beyond . . . this town, the responsibilities, the expectations. I could see a way out.”
She cups my face, the banter gone as the seriousness of what I just shared settles into the air around us. “And you did get out,” she says softly. “You’ve gotten out and had wild adventures, traveled the country, tamed beasts, and generally just embraced that wild child inside you. You did it, James. And you did it while still being a good man, taking care of your family, and being here when they need you.”
I huff a laugh, taking her hands and shaking my head. “But I wasn’t here. I was halfway across the country when Pops died, had to rush home for the funeral. And I’ll be honest, I chafed against the routine here, same day on repeat for infinity. But I learned something while I was away too.”
“What’s that?” Sophie asks, the festival ignored as she focuses totally on me. It’s something that makes her special; nobody else does that.
“On the road, it’s kinda the same thing. We roll into a nameless town, do our rides, party, train in every free minute. I’ve been a
cross the United States multiple times, and I’ve only been to the Grand Canyon because they were shooting a commercial there. I saw Mount Rushmore only in glimpses in between a photographer taking shots. I’ve been to Nashville, and didn’t even have time to see a single concert because I was too busy riding a bull, then loading up for the next town. Most of the time, I never eat at anything fancier than the local greasy-spoon diner or a protein shake to keep myself lean, or really see beyond the windshield as I drive through to the next bull ride. It’s repetitive, too, just in a different way.”
“But you love it, right?” she asks, concern in her voice. “You’ve got friends on the circuit, a type of family there too.”
“I have always loved it. And I’m in my prime, riding better than I ever have before,” I agree. “Of course, we’re like a family since we spend every waking hour together or following each other down the highway like a gypsy caravan made up of custom-stickered Winnebagos. But they’re not my brothers, not really, not like Mark and Luke. The guys on tour, we’re close, but at the end of the day, you know that the guy you’re having a beer with today is the same guy trying to outdo you and get a bigger check tomorrow. They’ll gladly watch you fail if it means they can win. Mark and Luke aren’t like that. As for Mama, she was always fine when Pops was here, but this year . . . I just don’t know. It feels different to be here without him, feels different to leave in the fall. Like I’m leaving her alone, even though she’s obviously not. Just those same old responsibilities and expectations pressing down on me, trying to force me to take root here.”
Sophie hums, thinking to herself for a moment before she nestles against me, her body warm and petite and comfortable in a way that I’m coming to look forward to more and more. “James, has Mark or Luke said anything to put that pressure on you? Have they made any assumption that this year will be any different than every other? I know I’m not around all the time, but from what I see, they seem to think you’ll ride your way to finals in November, come back for a Christmas visit, and then be gone again in January for the season. Are you sure . . .” She hesitates like she’s unsure if she wants to say whatever is next, but continues, “Are you sure that it’s not you who is feeling an urge to stay, to put down roots with your family? Things are different now; of course they are with your dad being gone. And it’s okay to reevaluate and see what you want. It doesn’t have to be the same thing you’ve always wanted.”
I’m quiet, letting what she said sink in. Is she right? Am I putting this pressure on myself? I clear my throat, ignoring the sky and looking at the concrete roof below me. “I know when I left at eighteen, it was with drama and duress, Mama begging me not to go when I was so young, to wait until I was twenty or twenty-one at least. It was one of the only big fights between her and Pops, with Pops having the final say in stating that I was a man, and while he may not have cared for the rodeo, I had to go out and make my own life, good or bad. Mama didn’t speak to him for days after that.
“Maybe I’ve just always thought she still felt that way about my rodeo career, but if I’m honest, she’s never asked me to stay home again. Instead, she’s supported me, cheering me on, proud of what I’ve accomplished. And having the world’s best pie ready for me when I come home, no matter if I win or lose.”
“Mama Lou’s a good woman,” Sophie says, wrapping her arms around me. “Very loving.”
“Mark and Luke too. Minus the pie, and with a few more sarcastic comments and grunts,” I add, making Sophie chuckle. “They’ve always had their shit together, and it’s been hard. Mark knew from a very early age that he was going to take over the ranch and worked to learn everything he could, his path clear. Luke’s always said he wanted to work with horses, and he’s made that a successful reality for himself. Me? I was the wandering, aimless one whose only goal was to chase adrenaline and conquer it.”
And I have, I think, going silent. Maybe it’s time to reevaluate for myself. I am in my prime, but I don’t have to ride. I could be in my prime at home, doing more to help in Pops’s absence.
Is that a better, maybe more adult, course of action?
Sophie seems to sense the rising anxiety of my whirling thoughts because she sits up to straddle me, pushing me to my back and locking eyes with me.
Planting her forearms on my chest, she crosses her arms and looks me in the eyes. “This is not a decision to be made tonight, Cowboy. You’ve said a lot, and I’m honored that you let me see so far inside that handsome, yet oh-so-thick skull of yours. Turn it around in your head while you’re out on those long rides like a movie montage scene, but tonight, right now . . . be here with me. Watch the fireworks and celebrate a lovely summer day, a hot July night, and the sexy cowgirl at your side.”
Knowing she’s right, I lift to kiss her, letting my hands run along her back to her thighs where they frame my torso, tracing up her inner thighs to skim along the edge of her shorts.
She sighs in pleasure for a moment before she jumps, the boom of the first firework scaring her for a moment before she’s backlit with sparkles.
She laughs and slides off me, curling up between the V of my spread legs on the blanket with her head on my shoulder as we watch the light show above.
I can’t help but do as she says, focusing on this moment . . . this perfect moment with Sophie in my arms, my family somewhere below us watching the fireworks with the townies, the ranch steady and safe, and Pops watching us all from above.
I get the feeling that he’d be smirking at me, telling me that for all my nomad desires, maybe I’ve done what I set out to do and it’s time to grow up and be a man now . . . for my family and for his legacy.
And while Sophie and I will, barring something weird or crazy happening, get hot and heavy tonight . . . she’s given me a lot to think about. Like the proverb about the horse, she’s led me to water without trying to make me drink. Just letting me consider what I actually want to do. She’s surprised me again, with her heart and her mind.
CHAPTER 17
SOPHIE
The sky is inky black, and the lights from the baseball fields barely cast a dim glow as we sneak out of the building, bubbly and childlike from oohing and aahing over the spectacle. While there was a lot of touching between us, we focused on the fireworks show for the most part, knowing that after this . . . we’ll make our own fireworks.
From behind us, I hear a shout. “Hey, Bennett!”
James pauses, turning. I think for a minute he’s about to introduce me to another old friend in town like he’s been doing all day. But the guy approaching doesn’t seem particularly friendly. In fact, he looks downright pissed and has the size, in both height and width, to do something about it.
I move a little closer to James, who subtly steps in front of me, protecting me a little with his body. “Hey, Brody,” he says stiffly. “Enjoying the fireworks, I see.”
As Brody gets closer, I can smell the beer not just on his breath—an overall aura of hops and barley surrounds him. Looking closer, I make the connection. Brody . . . Shayanne’s brother. Other than sharing a similar shape to their chins and the same color hair, they’re nothing alike. Good for her.
Luckily, Brody seems to only have eyes for James, not paying any attention to my presence. Stopping about two feet away, he stabs a thick finger in James’s direction, swaying a little on his feet. “Fuck you, Bennett. My dad tried to help you and your family, but you just go shitting on him like you always do. Think you’re better than everyone else, Mr. Thousand-Dollar Stetson Big Shit Pro Rider?”
James seems a bit shocked by his outburst but doesn’t budge an inch. “Look, man, I don’t know what your dad told you, but someone really smart once told me that business is business. He made an offer; we chose to not take it. Done deal. As long as nothing else happens”—James pauses dramatically, giving Brody a fierce look—“it’s all good.”
Brody’s face pinches, and I can read it in his half-drunk face. He understands that James has guessed about the fence d
amage, and he’s not too happy to get called out on it either. “Just tell your brothers to leave us Tannens alone,” he finally sputters, trying to keep the initiative. “You stay on your side of the property line, and we’ll stay on ours.”
“Fine by me,” James says, keeping the peace but not backing down either. “Make sure your dad keeps away from Mama too. No more visits trying to catch her alone. We don’t need him sniffing around like she’d have his ass.”
Brody puffs up even further, getting right in James’s face, but James doesn’t flinch. Brody’s a little shorter but easily fifteen to twenty pounds heavier. James just tilts his head, solid as a rock and with ice in his veins. I imagine this is what he must be like when he’s getting seated on the back of a pissed-off bull, because right now, Brody might as well be a raging bull himself.
Brody isn’t backing down either. “Just what are you saying, Bennett? You think my dad’s trying to fuck Louise? Whatever.”
Brody starts to turn away, but it’s a feint, and he whips back around, catching James with a mean right hook across the cheek. James barely stumbles, nudging me back before he brings a punch straight from the shoulder in a return hit that crashes into Brody’s nose. They tussle for a moment, punches and shoves flying so fast I can’t even tell what’s what.
I consider if I should do something, anything to stop their fighting, but I’m afraid if I get too close, I’m likely to get knocked in the head myself. Brody’s punches are wild, swooping country-boy haymakers, and one of those things could put me in the hospital.
Thankfully, Doc appears out of nowhere, giving an earsplitting whistle and catching both guys’ attention. They push off each other, both winded and bleeding. “Cut that shit out, you two!”
Brody points a thick finger at James, wiping at his lip with the other arm. “Fuck you, Bennett.”
He turns, striding away with his back stiff and straight. Doc eyeballs James a minute, then turns to me. “Now’s probably not the time for me to butt in. Seems like this is something you can handle. Got a first-aid kit at home?”
Buck Wild (Bennett Boys Ranch Book 1) Page 15
