Page 9 of Holden: Bucked By Love (Crawford Ridge Ranch #1)

Leni

I want to hate myself right now, but there isn't time for it because I'm standing in too-tight jeans and cowboy boots that I haven't stuffed my feet into for months, and I'm tuning out Josi who is tugging at my hand repeatedly and asking if I'm really going to do it.

By it she means ride the stupid mechanical bull I'm staring at.

It's huge and brown, and was possibly sort of fuzzy at one point, but the back has been worn down from countless rides.

Its eyes are missing some paint, and it appears to be staring into space – probably begging for mercy from another season of fair goers.

I'm one hundred percent sure it's not mechanically sound.

Dumb list, and dumb Holden for finding the list and leaving it out for our kids to see. And dumb Holden for suggesting we do it. He actually said "I think it sounds fun". As though Holden and "fun" have shared a sentence in years.

Especially dumb me for taking the bait rather than maturely setting a boundary that, no, I will not be crossing off bucket list items with my estranged spouse. Why would either of us want to do it ?

I glance down at Josi whose cocoa hair is braided down her back, her hazel eyes that are crinkled with a smile as she looks between me and Holden, who is standing on her other side also holding her hand.

This is why I caved. I look at the bows tied at the end of her braids, her childish innocence obvious, and sure, I didn't want Holden to make me look bad by agreeing to do something I didn't want to do, but it's more about giving something to my kids.

A part of me sees doing this as a soft way to say goodbye – a final scene in our family story before we go our separate ways.

The thought hurts, but it sits among the other little hurts that gathered along the way.

Mason is on Holden's other side and he leans across his dad's broad chest to grin at me. "You going first? Or is Dad?"

His own dark hair falls across his forehead and I smirk at the sight.

His hair is unruly at best. He wants flowing locks like his Uncle Walker has, but he can't seem to understand that he doesn't have the same type of hair and it's not really working.

I'm riding it out. Eventually his swim coach is going to make him trim it up, I'm sure, so I'll let him be the bad guy.

His lanky arms flow out of the jersey tank he's wearing over basketball shorts, and I wonder once again if he'll be inclined to carry on with Crawford Ridge Ranch when he's older. So far he isn't showing much interest.

I glance at Holden to find his head turned in my direction.

His eyes are shaded by his worn hat, but I can see the crinkles at the outer edges that tell me he's smiling at me.

I blink a few times and chew on my lower lip.

His gaze is . . . well, amused I guess. Warm and relaxed.

It causes me to swallow and I turn away to watch the bull swinging around the blow-up ring as it tries to toss a woman wearing a summer dress.

At least I was smart enough to wear jeans, I suppose.

I definitely don't need to add flashing to this event .

How is he relaxed and almost happy about this?

"Dad should go first," I say. If he's so chill, he can prove it.

Holden chuckles, low and soft. "Chicken."

I barely hear the word over the cheering of those watching the ring.

I gasp and look his way. "You did not just call me chicken."

His lips tug up. "Yes, ma'am, I did."

My back goes straight and Josi giggles. "Uh-oh, Daddy, you made her mad."

I force myself to smile down at our daughter.

It's not her fault I'm mad at her dad for being happy.

Seriously – why am I mad that he's happy?

Something is wrong with me. The heat in this tent is not helping, and the scent of sweat isn't either.

But, again, that's not the fault of anyone standing with me.

That's the sweat of a thousand people who came before, melded into the very fabric of the transportable ride.

"I'm not mad, Jo-Jo. Who should go first?" I ask gently.

Josi's face splits into a smile, toothless and darling. "You. Show him how to do it."

I laugh and raise an eyebrow at Holden. "You hear that? Jo-Jo thinks you need a lesson, and I'm just the woman to offer it to you."

Holden's expression remains amused. "You've never ridden a mechanical bull in your life."

I release Josi's hand to put my own on my hips as I turn toward him.

I hope I look fierce and ready, because what I truly feel is nervous and unsure.

It feels too personal somehow, standing here with our kids, bantering and egging each other on.

This is who we used to be, not who we are now, and my skin feels too tight.

He's right, though. I've never done this.

I may live on a ranch, but that's never involved riding something that's trying to unseat me.

I don't even have my own horse. I'm the lady who takes the UTV when I go out on the land.

"And you have, Crawford?" I ask boldly.

He simply shrugs, but as he opens his mouth to retort, a rough hand lands on his shoulder with a thump.

I glance behind him to see Walker in all his blond, muscled-up glory, grinning like the big happy goof he is.

Walker is the biggest Crawford man by a few inches – inches he loves to lord over his brothers.

As if ranch work isn't enough, the man is into strength training and too-tight shirts that hug his biceps like they're trying not to split.

His hair lands on his shoulders and if I didn't know better, I'd honestly think he uses a flat iron to get those waves.

Some Viking ancestor genes rose up when Walker was in the womb, and I find it immensely funny seeing him between his two dark-haired, leaner brothers. Speaking of brothers, I look around expecting to see Landry in his wake, but he's not there.

"What's happening here?" Walker asks, his light green eyes gleaming with brotherly mirth under his cowboy hat.

"Because it looks like someone might be thinking about riding this bull.

" He slaps Holden's back, and I wince at the thumping sound.

Walker turns his laughter-filled look on me.

"Or, could it be that the fair Lenora has decided to try her luck against the bucking monster? "

I laugh and roll my eyes. "The bucking monster?"

Walker grins. "Aye, lassie."

"Since when are you Scottish?" Holden murmurs.

Walker pulls a face and looks down at Mason and Josi. "Hey, there," he says, tugging on Josi's braid and squeezing Mason's shoulder in a much softer way than he'd manhandled his brother. "What's up, my little people? "

"Mom and Dad are both going to ride that," Josi points at the bull.

Walker raises his eyebrows. "That is excellent information."

"Yeah," Mason joins in. "They wrote a bucket list a long time ago and now they're doing it."

"Hmmm." Walker looks back and forth between us and folds his arms across his chest. His poor, short-sleeved denim shirt isn't handling it well, but so far the buttons down the front are holding. "It gets more interesting. I'm glad I wandered over when I saw you here."

"Yeah, it's cuz they don't live together anymore and we want them to have fun so that maybe they'll want to live together again," Josi adds in a matter-of-fact tone that has my heart hitting my toes.

Walker's gaze loses its teasing gleam and immediately cuts between me and Holden. I freeze. Shoot.

Shoot, shoot, shoot.

I don't dare look at Holden. His family, his news – even if I did totally already tell his mom.

The tent walls seem to shrink, and the background music and catcalling of friends ribbing each other over their riding attempts all fade into the background. This is awkward as heck, and I don't think I've ever blushed harder or prayed more for sudden death.

"So you really meant it the other day when you said you'd keep me in the dark if something was going on?" Walker asks, taking pity on me and glaring at his big brother. "That's cold, man."

"Not the time," Holden responds.

And then, Holden just walks away, heading to the stand where you sign up to ride the bull.

That rude bumhead left me here holding the ball and waltzed off like it was nothing.

I'd shank him in his sleep if we still shared a bed.

Although, I'm not above sneaking out to the trailer tonight.

This is the kind of thing that makes me steam.

I'm so done handling the uncomfortable parts of life for him.

Walker looks at me and relaxes his stance, letting his arms drop to his sides, making himself look less formidable.

I've seen him do it countless times, as though he understands his size can be intimidating.

I nearly smile, because nothing about Walker is actually intimidating once you know him.

He's the biggest tail-wagger in the world.

"You okay, Leni?" he asks softly. Concerned.

Walker was fifteen when Holden and I got together, and sixteen when we married. He's as much a brother to me as he is to Holden in a lot of ways, and the thought almost makes tears rise, because losing this family would kill me, but I tamp them down and nod.

He twists his lips and sniffs. "Come here."

He sighs as he gently wraps an arm around my shoulders and pats me in that sort of awkward way that's really sweet but totally means a person doesn't casually do this sort of thing.

I lean my head against the side of his upper arm for a minute and soak up the support.

The Crawfords aren't big touchers with each other, which makes Walker's side-hug that much sweeter.

He releases me quickly, and I do feel a little better as he looks down at me with a frown.