Page 53 of Braving the Storm

That doesn’t sound promising.

No wonder you wanted to grill me about saddles and leather care.

Sounds like there’s a story to today’s events.

He was nice.

But…

I guess the fact he wanted to talk about my uncle the whole time was a bit of a mood-killer.

Ouch.

Westin, you fool.

He probably thought it was a way to break the ice.

When in fact it just felt like I should tell the two of them to get together if he’d rather grab a beer with him and talk ‘rodeo.’

I bet the idiot was nervous as all hell.

Did he ask you out for a second date?

Do you think you’ll give him another shot?

He did, but I said I’d have to let him know when I’m free.

I don’t know… maybe I could try again?

My nerves kind of took over and I feel like I was part of the problem too.

I’ve never been on a proper date before and I feel like I got all up in my head.

Wasn’t really on my best form, if I’m honest. He deserves better than my hot mess.

Let’sjust ignore the fact that I was completely out of sorts thanks to the phone call and threats from my ex ringing in my ears as I walked in to find us a table. Not to mention other entirely illicit thoughts drifting in that I most definitely should not have been thinking about in the first place…

Excuse me, none of that, you are a CATCH.

Besides, even if Wes might’ve had a better shot taking Storm out for coffee instead, I’m pretty sure he’s got something like three brothers.

There’s more to explore on the Hayes family ranch if you like the look of those jeans, so to speak *wink face*

We chat a bit more,I try to steer the conversation back to horses and her life on top of Devil’s Peak, rather than an off-limits tattooed bull rider, or any of his cowboy friends, before Layla tells me she has to go.

I’m left to my own overthinking as per usual and the crackle of the fire. I haven’t even attempted to turn on the tv to watch anything or find a movie, I just can’t be bothered. Maybe if I wasn’t so distracted, I would read.

Instead, I find myself guiltily re-watching clip after clip of a certain rodeo pro on my phone, scrolling through all his old posts on Instagram, feeling the winding tension inside my core build tighter every second I hover and bite my lip at the details I find on-screen.

There’s one particular slow-motion montage someone has put together of him preparing for events in and around the arena. It shows him doing everything from warming up, to applying strappingtape to his wrist and forearm, and I’ve watched it on loop an embarrassing number of times. The chaps. The hat. The vest covered in sponsor logos. The swagger that is unmistakably the man whose presence fills this cabin, even when he’s not here.

One thing I can’t help but feel puzzled by as I sit here in my pit of wrong-thinking, is that he stopped competing abruptly, but there’s no mention made as to why. No injuries or major issues reported from the competition circuit. One day, he was seemingly everywhere, and the next, he no longer took part in any more events on the rodeo circuit. Maybe he suffered a career-ending injury and simply chose to quietly retire?

Although, from what I know of that man, he certainly commands attention wherever he goes.

God. I really fucking hate that I don’t know where he is, what he’s doing, or worst of all,whohe might be doing.

How many other girls has hetaughtwhile they’ve been seated on his lap in the front seat of his truck? Is that how Luce misplaced her lip gloss?