Page 8 of Riding the Line (Willow Ridge #2)

Duke

The golden evening sunshine filters through the chattering crowd as I shuffle my way along the row of seats with Wyatt and Wolfman – two of my best friends since school.

Our arms are piled with drinks and snacks while Big & Rich’s ‘Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)’ blasts through the speakers, rallying up the surrounding audience.

The rodeo stalls are filled with a sea of faded denim, shining buckles, and shuffling boots, all eager for the next competition to commence.

It’s our first time at the Fox Falls rodeo, but it’s only a few towns over from Willow Ridge.

Sawyer – my other best friend from high school – has always tried to attend small town rodeos even after his bull-riding career kicked off and he became the Professional Bull Riders world champion last year.

Something about owing his life to the small town, travelling rodeos that took him in fresh out of high school.

And since Sawyer’s never had much in the way of a supportive family, we always do what we can to come out and cheer him on at as many rodeos we can. That’s what friends are for – like family on a soul level. The realisation of such hits you harder when you don’t have a lot of family left.

Memories of Wyatt inviting me along to rodeos with his family when we were growing up so I could still partake in family traditions even after mine had a hole torn in it, have mirth bubbling in my chest and prove that you don’t have to be blood-related to show up for each other.

It was summer days spent at rodeos with the Hensleys, or evening barbecues at theirs, or even just afternoons spent playing football with Wyatt, his brother Hunter, and their dad, Beau, that gave me the space to forget about losing my mom for a moment.

The opportunity just to be a normal kid that wasn’t carrying the heavy burden of loss every day.

Sometimes I don’t know where I’d be without them.

So, I carry those reminders with me every day, doing what I can to be there for my friends, just like they were for me.

Once we reach our seats, Cherry, Rory, and Fliss – one of the new employees at Sunset Ranch – are huddled together singing along and giggling, which we could hear from the other side of the arena.

I look back to Wyatt, who just shakes his head at the girls, trying to fight off the grin that always appears whenever he’s around Rory.

The one that tells me he’s a goner – because Wyatt Hensley smiling used to be a rare sight, until a British wellness influencer waltzed onto the ranch he ran just over a year ago.

Plus, seeing his girlfriend and little sister get along so well no doubt makes him happy.

Cherry’s always been a good sport, putting up with and hanging around us guys since she’s been young, but there’s a glow to her when she’s with Rory and Fliss, like she’s found people who she’s finally comfortable enough with to let her true self shine.

Exactly like right now – she seems relaxed, at ease, so at odds to the puddle of frustration and tears I found her in the other day in my office. I cursed myself after dropping her home for not saying more, for not fighting her on her self-depreciation.

But as always, words failed me. Beyond the confines of a therapist’s office, anyway.

Because no one teaches you about grief or how to manage your feelings at ten years old.

After my mom passed, I always struggled to find the words to describe how I was feeling – it was so new, so alien to me – and I found myself better suited to being there for my grandparents, who’d also lost her.

Just listening. It was the same with my mom when she’d tell me bedtime stories about my dad who barely made it to my first birthday before a mistake during a routine surgery took him from us.

Seeing the light in her eyes as she recounted her memories made me feel useful, just like it does when Gram talks about my grandfather.

Being the listener, I wasn’t a burden or a weight, and people would still need me. I found purpose in a time when my world had been turned upside down and I desperately needed something to cling on to.

Plus, when I have let myself dip into that pool of grief, it’s hard not to get pulled under.

I don’t trust myself not to get lost in my emotions, regardless of what they are, especially when it comes to Cherry.

So, I’m glad Cherry’s got the rest of the group to lift her up when I can’t.

To make her happy – which is how she looks right now, with the girls.

Her long, slender body fits into a pair of tight, flared Wranglers and a cropped black T-shirt, contrasting with the white cowboy hat she always loves to wear to the rodeos.

And that raven black hair flows like a waterfall down her back to—

Oh fuck . To where a black G-string thong peeks out above her jeans as she’s leaning over into Rory’s arms. It’s so thin it could pass as dental floss.

My heart stammers at the sight. Jesus, the world is being relentless recently when it comes to Cherry – first the lap dance, now I know what underwear she favours.

I struggle to rip my eyes away, but when I do, I glance up to the row behind us where two guys are staring and whispering, making it pretty damn obvious that they’re enjoying the view.

The cans in my hands crackle as my fists close tighter around them.

I settle my glare on them, raising my eyebrows when they both look at me.

Then, I cross my arms, purposefully tensing my muscles like an overly jealous asshole.

Being six-foot-three and covered in tattoos does have perks.

I’m just being protective of Cherry, like Wyatt’s always asked us to do. That’s all.

After clearing my throat, I turn back to the group, trying to fight my smug grin from breaking out at the way the two guys shrank into their seats.

‘Ladies,’ I say, dropping into the free seat beside Cherry, with Wyatt and Wolfman on my other side.

Thankfully, all three of them turn to me eagerly, meaning Cherry’s thong disappears back beneath her skin-tight jeans.

It doesn’t stop me from sliding my arm around the back of her seat after handing her Diet Coke over, though, and throwing one final glance over my shoulder to check the sex pests have stopped gawking.

Even if I did my fair share of the same a second ago…

‘Lifesaver!’ Rory squeals, leaning over Cherry to slip the remaining two Diet Cokes out of my grasp, and hands one to Fliss who smiles her thanks, mousy-brown hair bobbing as she does.

Rory clicks the can open and takes a gulp, letting a dreamy expression cross her freckled features.

‘I swear this stuff is better than sex.’

‘I heard that!’ Wyatt barks, shooting Rory a scolding look. Mine and Cherry’s heads volley between them.

‘Joking! Love you!’ Rory giggles and blows Wyatt a kiss, then tosses her copper waves over her shoulders and turns back to Fliss to continue singing along to the last part of the song.

Smiling, I grab my beer from Wyatt before fully relaxing into the seat.

‘What time do you need me again tomorrow to help with that delivery?’ Wyatt asks.

‘Ten, if that works?’ I check, even though there hasn’t been a single time he’s not turned up to help when I’ve needed him – even if it meant scheduling his ranch hands to cover him or picking up the extra work later that evening.

Especially when I first took over the bar from grandfather, and even more so when he passed, running a business was new territory but Wyatt made sure he was there to support me.

I’m not sure there’s been a day since I lost my mom that he hasn’t been by my side.

‘Always, brother.’ Wyatt clinks his beer against mine with a grin, the endearment hitting me straight in the heart.

It’s then that the music peters out and the announcers’ voices ring through the arena.

As always, my heart begins to stutter, picking up its pace as we get closer to Sawyer riding into a life-or-death situation.

Memories of hospital wards creep into my mind.

Of doctors breaking the bad news to a ten-year-old orphan. Of my grandmother’s words.

‘I’m sorry, Junior. She held on as long as she could. She’s at peace now. But it’ll be okay – you’ve got us now, and us Bennetts are strong. We stick together.’

But what if I’m not strong enough to lose anyone else?

With my free hand, I clasp the edge of my seat to ground myself, feeling the hard plastic dig into my palm. I’ve never been a religious man, but I always send a prayer out at this point, hoping that if there is a higher power, then it might listen to me this time.

My leg bounces as I focus on the arena ahead, searching for Sawyer’s golden hair beyond the chute.

Suddenly, Cherry’s knuckles brush against mine as she also clenches her seat in anticipation.

I feel a jolt in her hand, but she doesn’t move away.

Instead, our knuckles remain connected – barely, but enough that goosebumps spread up my arm.

I feel her lean towards me, though her face remains forward, and she whispers, ‘Seeing as we missed out on our closing argument on Wednesday, I have one for tonight.’

Holding back my smile takes more effort than I’d like.

It’s just a game to pass time, but it’s become such a ritual for us now that it honestly makes my day.

And right now, it’s distracting me from the roiling in my stomach as I watch Sawyer climb up beside the chute.

It’s why it always feels a little empty when she’s at college and can’t make it to as many of Sawyer’s rides – sure, Wyatt was my best friend growing up, but Cherry accepted me as part of the family just as much.

It’s why this summer feels more important than any, knowing once she graduates she’ll be packing her bags and saying good riddance to Willow Ridge.

To me.

My heart trips at the thought.