Page 12 of Saving the Rain (Crimson Ridge #4)

A gainst my better judgment, I allow Chaos Hayes to do what he does best, and sweet-talk me. He successfully convinces me to turn up at The Loaded Hog tonight.

Some people in my situation might feel like a frog being boiled alive, having to spend time at a bar after giving up drinking.

For me, frankly, I don’t mind being here.

It’s a place I feel comfortable, even if there’s a flurry of hazy memories that race through my mind every now and then.

Flashes of a time when I was no better than a shit-faced cowboy stumbling around with a bottle in hand at every opportunity.

Though, the idiocy I got myself tangled up in magically disappeared once I stopped seeking out the type of people that attract nothing but trouble.

Funny how that works.

It helps that the Hog is run by friends now, I suppose.

They look out for my ass and will be the first to let me know I don’t have to stick around if I don’t want to.

But they also know me well enough. They understand my need for being around people, and how keeping that in balance is actually a helpful thing.

.. even if I’m doing it all while staying sober in this shiny new era of Kayce Wilder .

Walking through the doors, a live band belts out a honky-tonk tune, and the booths are all packed.

It’s more or less a comfortable standing-room-only vibe tonight, with an area set up along one wall where Oscar looms larger than life.

The guy is in pro bull rider mode, flashing a practiced smile while giving a thumbs up for a camera.

Close by his side sits the familiar face of his wife, Tessa, and in the next booth over from hers are the folks I spend most of my time with in Crimson Ridge; Storm and Briar, and the crew from Rhodes Ranch, including Brad and Flinn.

A major difference is that my dad and Layla aren’t here among them.

This fall, it feels more noticeable, since they’d ordinarily stick around until winter before heading off overseas for her veterinary placement work.

Another unmistakably absent presence is Sage, without the vibrant spark she brings to every occasion and, conversely, the quiet steadiness of Beau.

It seems odd not to have them around, either.

Those two aren’t going to be away much longer, but are currently wrapping up her gig as a marketing specialist for the pro rodeo tour.

Who would have thought they had become a thing last summer, hushed up and right under all our noses?

No wonder the guy spent the year after she left town moping around like a bear with a sore head. He looked fucking miserable every time I saw him for months and months on end. Now we all know why... it was because Sage had gone, and he was dying on the inside every day without her.

A small crowd waits patiently for their turn to grab a selfie with Crimson Ridge’s latest rodeo sensation.

While Oscar might carve out windows of opportunity to travel home between events—maximizing the amount of time he can spend with Tessa through this stage of her pregnancy—the likes of Sage’s work keeps her, and Beau, choosing to stay on the road, rather than going to the effort of flying back and forth.

For a night like tonight, Oscar’s most recent win is an added benefit for the town, now that he and Tessa are officially residents and all.

When I make my way over and reach to the end of the booth I slap a palm on Storm’s shoulder. “I heard there was a geriatric bull rider here tonight trying to relive his youth. Is this the storage unit where they park the museum exhibits? ”

Storm grunts at me and curses something creative under his breath.

“Wilder.” From the other end of the table, Lucas Rhodes—Brad’s father—dips his chin. “Brad tells me nothing but good things about your last event. Training was looking smooth the other day, from what I saw.”

“Yeah, well, someone has gotta topple Hayes off his perch.” I jerk my head in the direction of where I can see his sandy-blond locks sticking out above the crowd as he talks to some of the patrons.

“Hey. You eaten yet?” Brad distractedly greets me, then looks up from something he’s typing on his phone. “Flinn was just about to go to the bar and order for us.” He affectionately bumps his shoulder against his man.

“Since when?” Flinn readjusts his weight to lean back in the booth seat, looking anything but ready to leave his spot.

Briar and Sky are seated between their two respective cowboys across the other side of the table, flanked by Storm and Lucas.

The two girls send pleading eyes in Flinn’s direction.

He’s at the end of the booth with the easiest path to slip out of his seat.

“Pretty please.” Two fluttering sets of eyelashes and coaxing looks are offered when they slide their menus across the table.

“Hi, Kayce,” Briar adds, with a bright smile flashing my way. “How are things up on top of the Peak?”

“Same as usual. Hungry horses. Even hungrier cattle.”

Her expression is soft. I know she loves coming up to spend time with Layla at the ranch. She and Storm are about the closest thing we’ve got to neighbors on the mountain, I’m sure she misses having her friend nearby.

“You’re managing ok up there on your own?” Sky chimes in. Pink, bobbed hair catching the glint of festoon lights overhead as she takes a sip of her soda.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” I shrug. “Certainly ready to demolish a heap of food, though. You coming, Flinn, or want me to do the honors?” I hook my thumb in the direction of the bar.

“Fuck, yes. Please and thank you, kind sir.” His face lights up, and he starts listing off on his fingers a multitude of meals and sides they want to order as the rest of the table descends into laughter.

Brad shoves at his shoulder. “You’re such a shit.”

“What? Wilder offered. Heard he was picking up the tab tonight, too.” He feigns innocence.

“It’s fine.” Shaking my head, I snap my fingers and point at the table. “Though you’re all gonna have to deal with getting what you’re given... don’t blame me if I can’t remember and you all end up with a garden salad.” With one hand, I scoop up the pile of menus before walking off.

“Six house burgers and fries. Don’t fuck it up.” Brad cups his mouth and calls after me.

I pause beside Tessa, and stoop to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

She’s in the middle of chatting with a group of people waiting to have their photo taken with Oscar.

The guy is still busy signing autographs like a machine, but gives me a salute as I go past. We’ve met a handful of times since they moved to Sunset Skies Ranch.

On the odd occasion our paths have crossed at rodeo events, too, less so over the past year while he’s been working his way back from injury.

Crossing through the crowd, I spot Knox Hayes pouring drinks behind the bar. Dark hair, tattoos on nearly every visible patch of skin, requisite bad boy scowl fixed in place.

It never ceases to amaze me that the guy wanted to take on a venture like this when he’s chronically averse to people.

But then I guess we all do what we gotta do after surviving shitty upbringings.

He’s been running with the Hayes boys, taken in as part of their family, for a long fucking time.

Knox hasn’t ever said as much to me, but I figure he must have wanted to build some kind of legacy of his own, since the brothers have their family ranch.

He might have taken on their surname instead of the one he was born with, but it’s still never gonna quite be as solid as being blood related.

Knox doesn’t even ask me what I want, just slides the usual soda order my way, and I leave our group’s food order with the kitchen.

After helping the Chaos Twins around here often enough, I’ve gotten to know just about all of their staff who work the bar with them.

I’d never expect any of these people to run around after me like I’m a customer or some shit.

By the time I make my way back across the room to rejoin everyone at the booth, there’s another figure filling the spot where I was standing a moment before. They’re all staring at him like he’s a piece of art they’ve been blessed with a private viewing of, or something equally as ridiculous.

Raine’s broad shoulders and scruffy hair are unmissable. My throat tightens, fingers clench around my glass, and I can’t goddamn wrestle my pulse to the ground. Instead of idling at a normal pace, the damn thing kicks up a gear and tries to take off on me.

Fuck this.

When I step up to the table, I kick Flinn’s boot with my own, where he’s sprawled over the edge of the booth.

With a quick jerk of my chin, I silently tell him to shove over and make room.

Sensing my arrival, Raine gives me a solitary flicker of his gaze, all heavy brow and firm planes of his cheekbones above that stubble he never tidies up and doesn’t pay me any mind or acknowledgment.

Those dark eyes slide off me as quickly as they flashed my way, before he excuses himself and moves on.

Asshole .

Though he doesn’t go far. The back of my neck prickles, it would be just my luck... he’s settled down at the booth right behind ours, joining Tessa and Oscar.

Raine being indifferent to my presence is nothing new. This was so often our dynamic when we competed against each other. In all our years as rivals in the rodeo arena, he’d give me a slight curl of his upper lip, maybe a snide remark, but more often than not, he was happy to ignore my existence.

It never used to bother me too much back then. Sure, it stung, but I got the fuck over it and learned to focus on my own game. Besides, I figured it was better if his venom was directed elsewhere.

So why am I left with a skin-crawling sensation in the here and now? Why are my ears straining for any hint of conversation to float across from their table? When he’s a dickhead to me, he’s talking to me at least .