Page 53 of Hung Up (Shadow Ridge #1)

FORT WORTH

whatever you need, Pretty Boy

Thanks to the selflessness of the riders last weekend, I managed to keep my spot in third.

Of course, not every rider was so enthused about the decision of the many, Carson being one of them.

He’s sitting in second and hasn’t been my biggest fan since a few years ago when I beat him out the weekend before finals.

But whatever, not my problem. Not everyone can be my friend.

Speaking of friends, everyone was super supportive of Faith and me.

Of course, some of the guys were surprised, but the ones closest to me weren’t.

While they may not have known outright what was going on, hiding my feelings toward her wasn’t something I was exactly good at.

Although I will say that Faith got a kick out of hearing from those who were surprised that, because of how she acted toward me, they thought I was just some love-sick puppy who just couldn’t stay away.

I mean, they weren’t entirely wrong.

But the one person I hadn’t heard from was Wyatt. Everyone had called and texted us after the news coverage and welcomed us back Sunday morning with hugs and congratulations as if we had just gotten married instead of Faith finally admitting she wants me, too. Not that it’s any less special to me.

His radio silence has had me on edge, despite Faith’s best attempts to reassure me.

If there was one person who had an inkling and could see what was happening without his suspicions being confirmed, who had reservations, it was Wyatt.

He made it pretty obvious to me that he didn’t like how things were unfolding and how I was handling it in those few times we had talked about her.

And I know he was just worried about me, but now that things have worked and I’m happier than I have been in a long time, I thought he would’ve come around.

But his lack of acknowledgment makes me fear otherwise.

Which is why I came to the arena an hour early and am trying to hunt him down. He’s had this weird habit ever since he decided this was going to be his last season of coming in before everyone else and sitting in the quiet of the arena. So when I walk down the tunnel, I know exactly where to look.

He’s sitting in the stands, directly in the middle, staring blankly at the dirt ring below. I take a quick second to get my bearings, to prepare for the possibility of this not going how I want it to, before I walk up the steps and down the row, leaving two seats between us.

“I can’t believe this is going to be the last time I’m here,” he says quietly, a strain to his voice that I’m not used to hearing.

“It doesn’t have to be.” I tilt my head to look at him. “You haven’t announced your retirement yet. You can still back out.”

He runs a hand down his face. “I made promises I intend to keep. I can’t do that to her.”

I nod in understanding, letting the silence hang between us.

I want so badly to start yapping, to ask a million and one questions, and get to the bottom of whatever this weird, sudden tension seems to be between us.

Wyatt has been my best friend for longer than most, and it kills me to even consider the possibility that this might be our new normal. I refuse to accept that.

“Let me ask you something,” I start, unable to handle the quiet any longer. “How did you know that Annie was the one?”

“She always supported me, made me happy, and made me a better man. She didn’t walk away when things got tough; she never once made me doubt how she felt about me.

” He turns toward me, and the look on his face has me bracing for what he says next.

“The love of your life will be the love you don’t have to fight for.

It should come easy, for both of you. It shouldn’t ever be this complicated. ”

My brows furrow, a frown overtaking my face. “That’s your version. Some things are worth fighting for. Faith is worth fighting for.”

“I fear it’s not going to end the way you want it to,” he admits, sadness now seeping into his tone, causing a lump to form in my throat. “I’m worried you just accepted whatever she gave you without asking what it means for the two of you.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, turning his body to face mine.

“Just because I didn’t reply doesn’t mean I didn’t read your texts, kid.

She said she wants you, and that’s great.

So does that mean your deal is over? Are you going to try and make long-distance work?

Or does she still see this ending after the championships because she doesn’t think it’ll work in the long run? ”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out.

It kills me to admit it, but he’s right.

After we booked our plane tickets, we never talked about it.

We’ve just been going through life like we had before.

We never defined what this was or where it was heading—if things were different.

I know she is still nervous about making things work, but I took the fact that she said she wanted me to mean that she saw a future with me, too.

That she wanted to be with me after the championships.

But what if I’m wrong?

“The fact that you never talked about it concerns me,” he states, pulling me out of my spiral before I fall in too deep.

“You have got to start asking the questions, Jesse. You can’t just keep accepting whatever she gives you without any reservations.

And before you get mad at me, I do want it to work for you, I really do.

She’s a great girl, and I can see how happy she makes you despite the rocky road it was getting here.

But you deserve to know what her saying she wants you to mean. ”

I nod, unable to form a coherent thought. Once again, he’s right—I need to talk to her.

Pushing myself out of my seat, I take a couple steps down the row to see if she’s here yet, when Wyatt calls out, “Why did you forfeit last weekend? Why did you risk your spot in the standings?”

“I needed to make sure Faith was okay. She’s more important to me than all this,” I tell him, gesturing around the arena.

“You’ve wanted this for as long as I’ve known you. This is your life.”

Shaking my head, I give him a somewhat sad but also content smile. “Not anymore.”

Two hours later—once bulls are drawn, lineup decided, and the arena filling up—I track Faith down in the media room.

She’s frantically typing away at her computer when I slip inside, closing the door behind me and resting my back against it.

There’s a deep furrow in her brow, her bottom lip between her teeth.

She’s so cute when she’s this focused.

“How does it feel being back?” I ask when she finally looks up, giving me a wide smile.

“Great.” She sounds so relieved that it makes my heart clench. Who would’ve thought that the day would come when Faith not only felt comfortable but also wanted to be here? She really has come such a long way. “Is it weird to say I missed the smell of the dirt when I work?”

I laugh, nodding. “A little bit. But it’s music to my ears.”

Faith slips out of her chair and walks over to me, and I have to try my best not to start drooling at the sight of her.

She’s got her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck, the front pieces twisted in almost a crown around her head.

Her jeans are skin tight and flare at the bottom, the white boots I got her poking out.

The denim vest she’s wearing matches her jeans, and a black lace see-through top underneath it.

It’s like she was meant to be here.

Resting her hands on my shoulders, she leads me over to a chair and pushes me to sit, lowering herself onto my lap to straddle me, and my dick immediately starts to harden underneath her.

My eyes flutter shut briefly, a stuttered breath slipping past my lips as her arms wrap around my neck.

She presses a gentle kiss to the tip of my nose, and suddenly, everything I came in here to talk about flies out of my head, replaced by all the things I want to do to her here on this very table.

“What if I told you I wanted to bend you over this table and fuck you until you’re screaming my name?”

“I’d say whatever you need, Pretty Boy.”

I tip my head up, capturing her perfect, plump lips with my own.

The kiss starts slow, savoring one another like we have all the time in the world.

But I know that we don’t. I grip the back of her neck with my right hand, angling my head to deepen the kiss as I press my lips more firmly against hers.

She meets me halfway, giving me the same in return, her hands fisting my hair and pulling a moan up my throat.

The sound only seems to spur her on, and when she yanks my head back, my hat tumbles off my head and onto the floor as she starts to kiss my neck.

My left hand digs roughly into her hip as she grinds against me, her breath coming out in pants as she nips at my ear.

I pull her back to my lips, letting my hand fall away with the intention of picking her up and laying her flat on this table so I can get a taste of her sweet pussy when there’s an announcement made over the intercom.

“Rides will start in ten minutes.”

My head falls against her shoulder, which causes her to chuckle.

Our heavy breathing is the only sound in the room for a few minutes as we both try to gather our bearings.

She slips off my lap, her eyes landing on the hardon I’m still sporting in my jeans, a sly smile on her face as she holds a hand out and pulls me out of the chair.

I try to adjust myself, thinking of whatever I can to try and make it go away when I remember why I came in here in the first place.

“Hey, there’s something I’ve been meaning?—”

“Jesse Hayes, please report to chute two.”

She gives me a quick peck before she intertwines our fingers together. “We can talk later. Let’s go before you get in trouble.”

We walk hand in hand out of the media room, past all the workers and riders in the hallway, heading toward the chute.

I can’t help it as I keep glancing at her out of the corner of my eye.

This is the first time she’s been so openly affectionate with me, not only grabbing my hand in the first place but continuing to hold it without a care in the world if anyone sees.

How can this gesture mean anything but us staying together and making it work?

There’s no way that this openness, this public showing, doesn’t mean something.

Unless she’s just trying to make the most of the time we do have.

God, Jesse, don’t go down this rabbit hole before your ride. Get it together.

The first rider is just climbing onto his bull when we reach the second chute, my bull for the night, Goliath, huffing loudly at my approach.

Faith and I watch the big screen to see how Carson does—of course he pulled first ride for tonight—as I slip my hand into my glove.

He lasts the full eight, but he isn’t as stable on the bull as he usually is and gets docked six points.

As he exits the arena, he slams his hat down on the cement with a frustrated grunt.

Faith and I exchange a look before I shrug, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before I start to climb up the rails.

The announcer is going over my stats as I slip onto Goliath’s back, working my hand securely into the rope.

I let my eyes fall closed, taking a few deep breaths as I tune out the crowd around me.

If there was a time to focus, to make sure I pull out all the stops, it’s now.

As that familiar calm washes over me like a warm blanket, I open my eyes and nod.

The door flies open, and Goliath tears out into the arena.

I only feel a twinge in my ribs when he whips around, and I have to lean with him, my thighs clenching tightly against his midsection.

He bucks more than he spins, and I keep my arm up as I brace against his jerky movements.

It’s not until I leap off at the buzzer that I realize how close we were to the wall.

I take off my hat and wave to the crowd before I climb out of the arena, spotting Faith coming jogging around the corner.

My feet just hit the ground when she leaps into my arms, giving me a tight hug.

I wrap my arms around her without hesitation, swinging her gently from side to side before setting her back down on my feet.

With one hand on my shoulder, she beams and points at the screen with the other.

I turn, watching as the final score comes in, and I can’t stop the smile from growing on my face as I watch my name move from spot three up to two.

Once I turn back to Faith, she hugs me again, but this time, when she pulls away, she kisses me.

I hesitate for a moment, caught by surprise, before I kiss her back.

It doesn’t last more than a few seconds, but those few seconds were seen by at least half the workers and a quarter of the riders.

When she breaks the kiss, her arms fall away from my neck, the corners of her lips tipping up before a look of recognition takes over her face.

“What did you want to ask me before?”

The question is on the tip of my tongue—what are we?

Where is this going?—but they seem to lodge in my throat.

My need to know isn’t as great as my fear of finding out this is still temporary, so I wrap my arm around her shoulders and say, “Nothing, Sweetheart. Let’s go find a good spot to watch the others. ”

Ignorance truly is bliss, I guess.