Page 6 of Hung Up (Shadow Ridge #1)

SALT LAKE CITY

pressure all around

I’m pacing in the hallway below the arena in the Delta Center, my boots echoing off the cement.

I’ll tell you one thing: if this had been carpet, you’d be able to see the path I had worn into it.

Who the hell am I? What is happening to me?

Faith hadn’t been there on the last day in Sacramento, so I wasn’t able to apologize to her—again.

I’ve been running through that day for the last ninety-six hours, trying to figure out where I could’ve gone wrong.

Did I even do anything wrong? That’s the question I can’t seem to answer.

I apologized for the way I acted in the hallway when we met, but then turned around and acted like a stuck up, cocky bull rider not even an hour later.

I think I apologized for that? I truthfully can’t remember.

Then I put my foot in it by interrupting her interview with Kai.

Truth be told, I just wanted to hear her call me Pretty Boy again—which she said she’d tell me if I was or not if I stayed on for the full eight, and I did—so I had gone looking for her.

I thought I was keeping things light, but Kai looked pissed.

Have I tried apologizing to him? Absolutely.

But he hasn’t responded to any of my texts.

So here I am, burning a hole in my boots as I wait for one of them to show up so I can finally clear my conscience.

Kai, I owe an apology, but Faith? I just don’t want her to really think I’m one of those playboys who sleeps with anyone that gives me attention.

Okay, fine, I used to be, but I meant what I said to Henry. I’m done with that—unless it’s her.

Is it crazy to be hung up on a girl I’ve talked to for maybe twenty minutes total and haven’t seen in five days?

Oh, without a fucking doubt. But I’m no scientist. I don’t understand how the body works.

And I’m no therapist, so I can’t explain emotions, either.

Honestly, the more I try to explain it, to understand it, the bigger a headache I get. So I’ve stopped trying.

Some things you just have to accept with no explanation.

So I’ve been told.

“I heard that pacing like that is bad for your posture.” I stop and turn abruptly, practically giving myself whiplash, my attention falling on Faith.

She’s a little more casual than last weekend, but still severely overdressed.

She’s got a short-sleeved button-up dress shirt—which exposes a small tattoo on her wrist and another just below the crook of her elbow—paired with dark red dress pants and black booties that almost look like cowboy boots.

Her curly hair is tied up in a large bun atop her head, and she’s wearing less makeup than before.

Lord, help me.

“Thank goodness you’re here, then, so I can stop.” She raises an eyebrow, so I press on. “You’re looking good, Sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow slightly at the nickname, which she told me to stop using, but I just can’t help myself— I’m a sucker for punishment, I guess —and she lifts her chin. “Well, I learn from my mistakes. Wearing white around here? Definitely not the way to go. I figured darker clothes would be safer.”

“Quick learner. You’ll do just fine here.”

She rolls her eyes and closes the gap between us.

I stiffen in anticipation, a smile growing on my lips the closer she gets, but she surprises me as she slips past and continues down the hallway.

Shaking off my momentary stupor, I spin on my heel and chase after her.

The smell of her perfume—woody and floral, I think —trails behind her as I catch up.

However, once I’m in earshot, she speaks before I have the opportunity.

“I don’t need other people telling me I’ll do well here.

” She stops abruptly and turns to face me, making me come to a screeching halt.

“I have been doing this for almost seven years. At one point or another, I always had to do something I wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with.

And yet, I keep getting the hard assignments.

You want to know why? Because I’m good at my job.

I can adapt and take on any challenge that is thrown my way.

I’ve always been a hard worker and a quick learner. ”

“And this defensiveness of yours,” I start to say before I can stop myself, cocking an eyebrow as I cross my arms over my chest. “Is that new? Or have you always been that way?”

She scoffs, mimicking my posture. “I wonder why I would be defensive. Could it be because all you damn bull riders look at me like I don’t belong here?

Or because everyone in my office has been talking about how absurd it is that I’d take on an assignment like this and that they don’t think I’ll last?

Or, and this one, this one’s my personal favorite, could it be because my own father—” She stops, shaking her head.

“You’re right. I have no reason to be defensive. ”

“I truthfully didn’t mean any offense.” Way to put your foot in your mouth, you fucking idiot. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s a difference between teasing and sarcasm and then doubting someone's capability. One is fun and lighthearted, the other is demeaning.” She takes a small step closer so we’re almost chest to chest. “I think it’s about damn time someone taught you the difference.”

I watch as she walks away, not bothering to chase her or try and argue my case. Is she right? Have I really been that big of an ass? Is this really because of me, or am I just the one she’s taking it out on? What the hell just happened?

“I wouldn’t take it personally.” I look back over my shoulder to see Kai striding toward me. “She got some backlash after posting her article and has been having a hard time.”

“How do you know that?”

He shrugs, stopping a couple feet away from me. “She sent me the article after she wrote it, and then I read the comments, so I texted her to make sure she was doing okay.”

“You have her number?” My eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh, sorry, I meant I sent a courier pigeon.” Kai shakes his head. “Yes, I have her number. Just…ease up on her a little. Anything relating to her job is kind of a sensitive subject for her.”

My shoulders slump as I lean against the wall, rubbing a hand down my face. “Okay, so how do I get her not to hate me?”

“Maybe try not to be yourself?” I raise a brow at that, so he clarifies, “You’re the guy who thinks humor is the only way to connect with people. You always just say what you think is funny without thinking about how it comes across to other people.”

“Alright,” I say, folding my arms defensively in front of myself. “I’m not just the funny guy.”

Right?

“Wyatt is the only one who really knows you around here, Hayes. Your go-to is jokes and sarcasm rather than trying to learn about people.” He gives me a careful smile. “Maybe it’s time to change your approach.”

I sigh loudly and tilt my head up to the ceiling for a moment before training my eyes back on Kai. “I’m sorry about last weekend. I really didn’t mean to intrude or cause any problems. I just wanted to talk to her and I went about it the wrong way.”

“Full transparency?” I nod. “My father has been breathing down my neck a little bit more this year about winning than ever. The only thing that helps to relieve some of that pressure is celebrating my small wins. When I can’t do that, I tend to get uptight and lash out. Self-doubt is a bitch.”

I study him for a moment, really taking in his words.

He opened up to you, you can open up to him.

“I have pressure coming from my PR team and worry I’m going to blow it.

I’m also torn between the fear of losing yet again this year and not being able to help out my brother, and, in turn, if I actually pull this off, the way I know I’ll probably hate myself for taking that away from you. ”

Kai closes the space between us, wraps his arm around the back of my shoulder blades—since he’s shorter than I am—and gives me an easy shake. We exchange a smile, and the tension I was carrying leaves my body.

Huh. Maybe not resorting to humor isn’t so bad after all.

“Come on,” Kai says as he begins to lead me down the hall and toward the staging area where the other riders were told to meet an hour before competition. “Let’s go see what beast you’re riding tonight.”

Fifty minutes later, I’m sitting on a small bench tucked out of the way near the chute, my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, my black hat on the seat next to me.

I ended up drawing Bullwinkle for tonight—one of the easiest and lowest-rated bulls in the competition.

He’s got a power rating of 68.71 with only seven outs, which doesn’t bode well for me.

As I had to explain to Kate last weekend, a power rating is the difficulty rating of the bull, and outs mean how many times a rider hasn’t lasted for the full eight seconds.

And while people generally think oh, a lower rating is good, means it’ll be an easy ride, they’re right.

However, just like the bull, we as riders get judged on our technique.

Sometimes an easier bull can lower your rating even if you have a fantastic ride.

But truthfully, that’s not what’s got my head all jumbled.

I keep replaying Kai’s words back in my mind, and he was right.

No one besides Wyatt truly knows me, and I don’t really know any of them.

If I don’t know much about them, can I really classify them as friends?

Do I just come across as some distant, rude, self-absorbed guy who doesn’t want to get to know anybody? What do people think about me?

And why are all of these thoughts and concerns finally hitting me now?

“Chin up, Pretty Boy,” that sweet and silky voice says as I feel her sit down beside me. “From what I’ve been told, bringing this kind of energy onto the bull will bring you nothing but problems.”

“The bull is the least of my worries. Not sure these problems are the ones that are easy to shake.” I let my hands fall away from my face, but I don’t bother lifting my head.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Faith fidgeting with my hat that rests in her lap. “Then talk to me. Last thing I want is anyone getting hurt out there.”

“What do you think of me?” I tilt my head to look her in those piercing eyes and see surprise in them. “I want to know.”

“Well,” she hesitates, taking a deep breath as I avert my gaze, “I think you have a lot of confidence that comes across as an inflated ego. I believe you use sarcasm and jokes as a way to keep people at arm’s length without realizing you’re doing it.

I’m convinced you find your worth in other people liking you.

” Well, fuck me then, I guess. Faith suddenly reaches out a tentative hand and lays it on my arm, drawing my gaze back to hers.

“But I know there’s a whole lot more to Jesse Hayes than what you read in the paper.

And I know that, one day, you’ll let everyone see that. ”

I give her a weak smile. “You don’t have to lie just to make me feel better.”

“I’m a terrible liar, remember?” The corner of her lip tilts as she stands up, placing my hat back on my head for me. “Go get ‘em, Pretty Boy.”

I watch as she walks away and approaches Kai, who beams at her approach, giving her a quick and gentle hug. Bryce saddles up next to her, saying something I can’t hear, and Faith’s laughter reaches my ears. I don’t even realize I’m smiling until Wyatt takes the spot she had vacated.

“You need to stay focused, Hayes.” He bumps his shoulder against mine. “If you want to keep in the top five, you need a perfect ride tonight.”

“And a few others to have horrible ones.”

Wyatt stares at me for a moment. “Since when do you care whether or not other riders have good rides? We all secretly wish for everyone else to have shitty ones. Minus the injuries, of course.”

“I’ve always cared,” I tell him, pushing myself off the bench. One of the other riders waves me down as I hear the announcer's voice echo around the arena. “I just never showed it. Maybe it’s time I start.”