Page 59 of Riding the Line (Willow Ridge #2)
Two years later
The bar is almost full by the time I get here after work, and it’s not even six o’clock yet.
With a massive grin on my face – as always whenever I see the red neon bar sign that spells out Cherry’s above the door – I walk inside and am immediately greeted by a wave of hearty laughter, sparkling conversation, and country music blasting from the jukebox.
Bulbs hang from the rafters above each of the high tables where customers lean, drinking and laughing away the long week.
Their smiles are lit up by the rainbow of neon signs buzzing along the walls, interspersed with old licence plates from Colorado and photos from rodeos.
Including one of me at my most recent amateur barrel racing competition that sits right behind the bar.
That I try to pretend isn’t there, but the rest of Cherry’s I happily soak up, feeling the familiar energy seep into my veins.
It’s like a little slice of home – exactly how I designed it.
My heart is so full the minute my feet hit the wooden floor, transported back to where I grew up, even if I always knew it could never contain me forever.
And of course, home wouldn’t be complete without the tall, broad-framed man standing behind the dark wooden bar, the tattoos on his arms shifting as he pours out a cocktail, pure bliss and joy painting his face.
He throws his head back with laughter, the biggest grin spreading out while he chats with the customers at the bar, completely in his element.
Duke Bennett is as happy and handsome as ever, living the best of both worlds in Willow Ridge and the city – though he still doesn’t appreciate it when I call him Hannah Montana because of that, but we’ll get him there.
I can’t believe there was a time when he actually considered turning down this bar. But I guess there was also a time when I never thought I’d get back on a horse or get to fall in love with Duke Bennett. The latter I still don’t think has fully hit me even two years later.
I think it’s been good for him, though – to branch out and not feel so tied to Willow Ridge all the time.
He’s still the caring, reserved Duke I’ve always known him as, but that quiet confidence shines a little brighter these days, a daring side to him waiting for opportunities to arise, as opposed to letting them pass by.
Which my college friends loved trying to encourage out every time he’d come visit me during my senior year.
Duke’s eyes find me through the crowds before I’ve even taken three steps inside, and my heart still does a little flip at the sight of him.
At the reminder that I don’t have to hold back my love for him.
That he spends half the week with me in my apartment in the city when I’m working at the interior design firm that hired me straight out of college, and that I get to live with him back in Willow Ridge whenever I’m freelancing and slowly building up that business idea his grandfather laid out for me all those years ago.
It’s funny that two years ago, I thought that would be my last summer ever with Duke, and now I couldn’t imagine riding off into the sunset with anyone else.
With his eyes never leaving me, I make my way over to the bar, jumping up onto the stool in front of him. He greets me with the brightest of smiles and leans over the bar to kiss me.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he whispers against my lips, pressing another kiss to them afterwards.
That delicious cypress and leather scent of his fills my senses, and I really wish it was closing time already, because the urge to climb up onto this bar and wrap my legs around him is strong tonight.
Being adult Cherry is hard work, and this girl needs some relief.
‘Missed you too,’ I say back breathlessly when he eventually pulls away.
Duke gets straight to pouring me a Jack and Diet Coke.
We don’t have our closing-time ritual anymore, not now I’m girl-bossing in the interior design world as opposed to clearing up empty glasses with him, but I rather like our new routine of after-work drinks and chats whenever he’s up in the city.
And the occasional night of being laid out on the bar for him after all the patrons have gone…
‘How was your day?’ he asks, sliding my drink over to me.
I glance down the bar, noticing how many of his signature cherry-flavoured porn star martinis fill the hands of customers.
Another little homage to me, alongside the name and the neon signs shaped like cherries that are dotted throughout the bar.
I take my first sip, and admit, ‘Better now I’m with you.
’ That gets me a bashful smile. ‘Oh, I actually got an email today from a ranch a half hour from Willow Ridge that wants help converting a few guest houses. They were inspired by all the stuff I put on my socials about Sunset Ranch and the other retreats I’ve been working on, it seems.’
‘That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.’ He reaches over the bar and squeezes my hand, his warmth wrapping around my heart.
When he lets go, he fishes a bottle of beer from the fridges below the bar. Giving a thumbs up to the other bartenders working with him, Duke rounds the bar to meet me, holding out his free hand to help me off the stool. ‘The others are already here.’
My gaze follows to where he nods, finding my friends already cosied up in our usual booth beside the dancefloor which Duke keeps free when he knows the gang are coming up for the evening.
Wyatt and Rory are snuggled up on one side, glowing from both the honeymoon they just got back from and the post-wedding bliss that has us all convinced there’ll be another announcement from them soon.
Wolfman’s nursing a beer, his laughter howling out and echoing through the bar as he jokes around with Fliss.
Even Sawyer made it tonight, his arm tucked around Honey, while her hands rest over her slightly swollen belly.
The flickering neon signs lighting up the bar are no match to the bright joy radiating off all my friends.
And it’s been like this since the first day Cherry’s opened – Wyatt, Wolfman, Sawyer, Rory, and Fliss taking any chance they can to spend the Friday nights Duke has to work up in the city here with him.
Showing him that no matter where he goes, they’ll always support him, and our relationship – the number of double dates we’ve been forced on over the last two years is excessive.
Still, it has my heart warming, being able to share so much happiness with them.
I grin, turning to Duke. ‘Thank God. I’m dying to hear how well Wyatt survived Bali.’
Duke chuckles, shaking his head. ‘I still can’t believe Rory convinced him to go there on their honeymoon. But I’d put money on him loving every second of it.’
‘He did look surprisingly happy in all those pictures Rory put on Instagram.’ Pictures I’m sure he had no idea would be shared, anyway. ‘Where would you wanna go on your honeymoon?’ I ask Duke, musing on the thought myself as I twirl my hair around my finger.
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugs, bunching his lips to the side as he considers. ‘Probably somewhere secluded. Where you can just enjoy all the alone time together. Maybe some deserted roads where you can go on rides, and no one will pass by if you decide to stop for a quick break.’
He adds a wink on the end, running a hand down my back until he reaches my hips and gives me a squeeze.
Involuntary shivers rush through my body at his touch.
Too many memories of all the times he’s bent me over his motorcycle in the past two years flash into the forefront of my mind, especially since it became a pretty good way of getting over the fear of riding again after our crash.
Clearly aware of the torturous thoughts he just put in my head, Duke stifles a laugh. ‘Besides, I need to get you a ring and a wedding before we can start thinking about a honeymoon.’
‘We?’ I perk a brow at him, pretending that my heart isn’t fluttering at the suggestion that just came out of his mouth. The future he’s envisioning. ‘Who said I was talking about us?’
Duke just levels a look at me while I try my very best – yet still fail – to bite back my grin.
He places his hands either side of me on the bar, caging me in his broadness, and I can’t help but swallow – at the darkening eyes drinking me in, the way they dip to my lips, making his tongue dart out and wet his own, like he’s ready to take a bite.
God, I still love how I bring out this uncontrolled version of him.
‘Hilarious,’ he grumbles, then brushes a featherlight kiss to my lips. His warm breath tingles against my mouth as my own shudders out. Lips still a hairsbreadth from mine, he questions, ‘Have I ever told you that you’re the bane of my life?’
I grin, fisting his T-shirt to tug him just that little bit closer. ‘Maybe, but you still love me.’
He presses his forehead to mine, staring into my soul with those same umber eyes that saved me all those years ago. That have anchored me while I’ve strived to find my strength again. ‘Always, Baby Hensley.’
If you loved Riding the Line , why not try Live, Ranch, Love another heart-racing romance from Emma Lucy?