Page 23

TWENTY-TWO

Rio

I watch in amusement as Rip and Issy attempt to outdo one another with respect to eating cotton candy. Although in reality, the stuff melts in your mouth once it hits your tongue, they are determined to win. Why cotton candy? Who the fuck knows. I just know that my ol’ lady is on a major sugar rush, giggling as she crams more into her mouth while mocking the fact that Rip’s lips are blue from the cone he’s currently demolishing.

“When should we call it?” Abyss whispers while the other brothers are still placing bets on the pair.

“Soon,” I advise. “Issy’s good for three but because her stomach was already nervous about the race, she’s liable to start projectile vomiting at any second. Motion to Rip to ‘fall out’ so she wins to keep her in a good mood.”

Abyss smirks at me because he knows why I want her in a good mood but before he can do anything, Issy speaks up. “Ugh, Rip, I can’t eat another bite, dammit. Looks like you got me this time around. But I reserve the right to call a rematch when we host at the Triple R later this year.”

Rip’s face is priceless right now. I think he was on the verge of tapping out himself, but now, he gets to claim bragging rights over her, at least until their next silly eating contest reconvenes. “Definitely, Issy, I’ll be ready for ya, girlie.”

“Rafe?” she asks, walking up to me.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I’m getting tired,” she admits before winking at me.

“I see,” I murmur. Looking around at the brothers, I state, “Y’all go have some fun, we’re heading to bed.” Most of them hide their snickers behind a cough as I wrap my arms around Issy. Leaning down I murmur against her ear, “They’re not buying it.”

“I don’t give a fuck. We need to celebrate,” she sasses, her expression gleeful. “Now, come on, Rafe. I need a shower and I can’t reach my back to scrub it.”

We’re out by the bonfire later on enjoying some barbecue sandwiches when Rip casually states, “I was worried about that windstorm that blew through earlier, cuz.”

“What storm?” Issy asks, falling right into his trap.

“The one that had y’all’s RV rocking so much I was worried it was gonna tip,” Rip deadpans.

As the brothers start chuckling, I see Issy’s face redden but my woman’s no pussy, she can give as good as she gets. “No worries there, it’s always anchored down well,” she sasses. “Methinks you might be a bit… jealous of Rafe since he’s got an ol’ lady now and you’re still as single as a pringle?”

“Nonsense,” Rip blusters. “Just making an observation is all.”

Issy starts to laugh as she nudges Rip with her shoulder. “Don’t you know I’m not easy to wind up and embarrass by now? I grew up around a bunch of redneck ranch hands and a club full of unruly bikers. My ability to truly be embarrassed was gone by the time I was eight, I think. Maybe nine.”

“So, during closing ceremonies tomorrow, we’re gonna mention our rodeo and the fact that it’ll be Gage Morgan’s final ride on Mississippi Hippie, who is slated to retire. I reached out to the owner, and he thinks it’s a fitting tribute to both Gage as a bull rider and the beast, as he called him, for an illustrious career,” I state.

Nods around the bonfire let me know that my brothers are easing into forgiving Gage for what went down. I felt that they would adjust their thinking once a little bit of time had passed. Being here this weekend, even though not everyone came, has gone a long way toward helping heal wounds.

“Good plan, Prez,” BamBam says. “I mean, he might’ve fucked up, but in the end, he did save your ass when that fucker tried to shoot you.”

Considering the number of times I’ve been face-to-face with a loaded gun, that’s honestly the closest I’ve ever come to meeting my maker. At the distance we were, there’s no fucking way I wouldn’t have been grievously injured or even killed. Gage’s actions saved my sorry ass but gave me the impetus to finally claim Issy.

“What do you think about me allowing Starlight and Stargazer to run the barrels?” Issy suddenly asks. “I mean, Starlight still has it and it’s not like she’s truly too old to race, I just retired her so that Stargazer could start running the circuit.”

“Shit, Issy, you trying to win the top two spots at your home rodeo?” Rip teases. “Because unless she’s really slowed down a lot, Starlight used to give everyone a run for their money.”

“I think she misses it,” Issy confesses. “When I was practicing with Stargazer, I decided to let Star run it a few times and she was phenomenal, to be honest.”

Luis, having joined our group which lets me know the horses are now bedded down and two of our prospects are standing watch, interjects and states, “Her times would put her in the top five, at least, based on the racers who competed today.”

Since I wasn’t always with her while she practiced, this shocks me a bit. “Really? Well, babe, you know your girl the best. If you think she can handle it, then let her race.” I make a mental note to have the ranch’s vet thoroughly check both horses out because it would devastate Issy if something happened to either one of her girls.

Seeing the moon is so high in the sky, I realize we need to end our evening since the closing ceremonies will commence around ten in the morning, after the under ten crowd competes in their events. Honestly, seeing the little kids attempting to rope calves and pigs is hysterical and it brings back memories of me and Issy doing the same thing until we were a bit older and could start riding in the competitions, aiming to win buckles for ourselves. Then, I went the way of broncs while she barrel raced, since that’s a female-only sport. A vision hits me right between the eyes of a little girl with Issy’s hair practicing her lassoing on one of the ranch’s animals, and I want that more than anything.

To start the next generation of our family and teach them how to properly care for the animals we have dominion over so that Paps’s legacy lives on.

“I do think she’s capable,” Issy says as we walk toward our RV after bidding everyone goodnight, the chuckles of my brothers following us.

“Me too, babe,” I reply as I unlock the door so we can head inside. “Now, how about we get naked so we can celebrate a little bit more?”

“Damn, Issy, two buckles? I’m gonna need to adjust the trophy wall,” I tease as we sit beside each other on the bleachers, listening to the various event winners get called to the podium for their award.

This particular rodeo gives buckles out to the first-place winner, while the points also count toward the champion buckle that’s awarded at the end of the year. Issy won on both horses, although in barrel racing? She fucking blew the contenders completely away. Hell, this morning, while the kids were competing, we were dealing with the event organizers asking to have Stargazer’s blood tested. Apparently, one of the other racers, upset because they were knocked out of the top three, accused the ranch of using performance enhancing drugs. Thankfully, Luis was there, as were the three prospects, so they wouldn’t allow them near Gazer until we arrived.

Seeing Issy fired up the way she was had my dick hard, not even gonna lie. She had all the paperwork from Stargazer’s vet and then, she got him on the phone and put it on speaker.

“Dr. Webb, I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday,” Issy stated. Any bystander could hear how irate she was having to call him up.

“No problem at all, Issy. How did the girls do this weekend?” he asked.

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. The officials are standing right here and are accusing me of using unreputable stuff to make Gazer faster.”

“What? Who exactly is standing there right now, Issy?” Dr. Webb asked, immediately fired up, as well.

“Me, Rafe, Luis, three of the club’s prospects, plus Alden Smith and Arthur Shetfield,” Issy responded.

“So, you didn’t inform them that I drew blood on Friday?” Dr. Webb clarified.

“Nope,” Issy said, popping the p which told me exactly how pissed she was because she always told me she felt like a child when she did that. “But I’m glad I asked you to do so seeing as this is happening again.”

“What bloodwork?” Alden Smith asked.

“Issy had noted that Stargazer seemed to be faster during her practice runs, so knowing how petty some are on the circuit, she reached out to me, and we opted to be preemptive and run a panel of bloodwork on Stargazer. If you’ll give me your phone number, I’ll gladly text you a copy of the results,” Dr. Webb advised.

Alden Smith rattled off his phone number and we all waited until his phone chimed. He and Shetfield stepped away while Issy and Dr. Webb continued talking about how Starlight did in the dressage event. I kept my gaze on the two men as they apparently opened up the document that Dr. Webb sent to Smith, then smirked when they both shrugged before trudging back to us.

“Mr. Rodriguez,” Alden addressed me as the official owner of Stargazer. “We apologize for the insinuation. Everything seems to be in order, and we will advise the complainant accordingly.”

“If it’s the same bitch who always complains about how my horse runs, perhaps she should have some sanctions tossed her way,” Issy sneered at the suggestion. “Because her allegations have gotten ridiculous. We have this happen at every show now that she’s also competing at and there’s never any bearing to the complaint.”

“We’ll take it under advisement,” Sheffield stated.

“I’ll be sending in a formal complaint to the association,” I advised. “Because this is damn near approaching slander with respect to my ranch and reputation. Dr. Webb, can you have your office staff put together a portfolio of all our animals, especially Starlight and Stargazer, for me to send in with my complaint?” I asked.

“Absolutely. I’ll also be submitting one. The Triple R Ranch is beyond reproach with their reputation for raising, breeding, and training horses, as well as bulls for prospective rodeo riders. People come from across the country to buy one of their championship livestock”

Both Smith and Shetfield now look like they’re regretting ever getting out of bed this morning, much less listening to a petty loser. “Again, we’re sorry,” Smith mumbled.

“Are you about ready to head home?” I ask, just as some of the other barrel racers walk in front of where we’re standing.

I’m not able to stop Issy when she hears a female voice cattily say, “Must’ve paid them off.” Issy spins around and sends a resounding haymaker into the woman’s face, causing blood to spurt freely from her nose.

“That’s for trying to ruin the Triple R’s reputation,” Issy seethes before she hits the woman again. “That’s for thinking I’d ever harm my horses by injecting shit into them. Hell, I don’t even use whips or spurs like you do and still my fucking horse is better than yours, you skanky bitch!” Before she can throw another punch, I manage to grab her around her waist and pull her back while Bam helps the woman up.

“I suggest you go talk to the organizers,” BamBam states in his no-nonsense voice that has the tendency to scare the shit out of people. “Because talking to Issy about that shit is gonna put you in a world of hurt as you’ve already figured out.”

“C’mon, babe, let’s head home,” I say as Issy shakes out her hand. Grabbing it, I look closely to make sure she didn’t hurt herself then kiss her knuckles before whispering, “You’re such a fucking badass, woman.”

“Maybe so, but I’m your badass and ol’ lady, and as such, I will defend the ranch’s reputation,” she replies, taking my hand in hers. “Let’s go, honey. I’m ready.”