Dare You to Resist the Bull Rider (Rock Valley High 4)

“What I really want to do is compete in the Junior Rodeo Queen competition this week at the county fair.”

Mom’s eyes grew wider than quarters. Little pink spots dotted her fair cheeks. I half wondered if she was having one of those senior moments that she’d been complaining about so much lately. Did I need to repeat myself? Did she need hearing aids? She stared at me for a full ten seconds before jumping off the bed and throwing her hands up in an embarrassing display of old-person dance.

“I knew it, I knew it,” she said in a sing-songy voice. “I told you that you should do it.”

“Mom, please.” I covered my face with my hands. It was a good thing we weren’t in public or I would have to die.

“This is so fantastic,” she said, finally halting her dance. “You’re going to win, baby. I just know it. And if you don’t, you’re still going to have so much fun.”

I appreciated her vote of confidence, even if I highly doubted that second part.

“Tomorrow’s the pie baking contest,” I said, baring my teeth nervously. “Can I borrow your brown sugar pie recipe? The one that you use to soften up Grandma Eve when she visits?”

Grandma Eve and Mom had never gotten along, ever since my parents got married. But Mom had discovered the trick to keeping Grandma sweet during her visits. Every Christmas, she’d fill the freezer with the dessert in preparation from a visit with the in-laws.

“You’ve got it, baby.” She kissed me on the forehead, then headed toward the door. “I’ll make sure I’m off work tomorrow to watch the competition. With this recipe, you can’t lose.” With one last embarrassing shake of her hips, she beamed at me. “I’m so excited, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. Have a good night, sweetie.”

I groaned into my hands once more as she pulled the door shut behind her. If my mom was going to come to the competition, we were going to have to lay some ground rules about keeping all public celebrations limited to a fist bump or polite clapping. There was no way I was going to claim her if she acted like that at the contest.

My phone dinged on the nightstand where it lay. I picked it up and stared at the screen. Another text from Hunter. This one asking if we could talk. My thumb hovered over the screen as I weighed the idea of calling him. The anger I’d felt at him during the backyard BBQ a couple hours ago had already faded. I just wanted my best friend back.

“Hey, Char Char—are you going to answer my texts or are we gonna have to do this face-to-face?”

Hunter’s voice coming from my open window nearly gave me a heart attack. My bedroom was on the first floor and overlooked the twenty feet of plush grass between our house and the neighbor’s. I turned to see him leaning on the windowsill and wearing a teasing grin that caused my stomach to dip. Dropping my phone on the bed, I rushed over to push up the screen.

“What are you doing here?” I knelt on the carpet and leaned my elbows on the sill in front of him so we were at the same level.

His hazel eyes searched my face as he tilted his head to one side and then ran a tongue over his lips. “I wanted to say sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was being a total jerk. Forgive me?”

I chewed on my bottom lip and watched the sorrow reflect in his eyes. This was one of the reasons why Hunter and I would always be friends. We owned up to those few moments we made mistakes and we never let our anger get in the way. He might have come back from Texas as this super-hot bull riding machine, but he was still the same guy.

“It’s fine,” I said with a quirk of my lips. “I already forgave you hours ago. But thank you for admitting to the jerk part. That was a rare Hunter McNally moment.”

He winced and raked a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, that wasn’t cool. If I ever start talking like Steven again, please slap me. Hard.”

I nodded. Bree

’s ex-fiancé, Steven, wasn’t exactly an easy guy to get along with. And Hunter hadn’t liked to talk about him much. I’d just assumed things were awkward between the two of them. When Steven had moved into the house, we’d spent less and less time hanging out at Hunter’s and more time at mine. I’d never thought about it much until now. Guess he was a bigger jerk than I’d realized.

“So, how’s your mom doing with the break-up?” I asked, tracing the woodgrain of the windowsill with my index finger.

Hunter’s gaze followed the slow journey of my finger as he sucked in his cheeks. “She’s doing better. The time away in Texas helped.”

“He wasn’t exactly my favorite person, but I never did understand why they broke up. Did she get cold feet?”

I didn’t miss the slight hardening of the lines around his mouth. “No. She was ready to get married.”

“Did he...cheat on her?”

My voice was hushed and as I waited for an answer I kept my gaze glued on the path I was making along the wood. The mere suggestion of cheating felt like a betrayal to Bree. Honestly, I couldn’t understand why anyone would do that to someone as amazing as her, but then again, I didn’t really understand most guys.

“No, no cheating.”

He cleared this throat and then gently placed his hand on mine, halting my progress. Everywhere he touched tingled along my skin. I looked up to see him staring at me, dark emotions swirling in his eyes. It seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn’t know how. He parted his lips slightly, then winced, and shut them again.

“Steven just wasn’t a very nice guy,” he said, slipping his hand off of mine and staring down at my motionless finger.

It felt like there was a lot left unsaid during the heavy silence that fell between us. Maybe I could’ve pushed him to talk to me, but Hunter liked to work things through in his own head before anyone could force him to spill. I had to be patient, if I was going to hear more of that story.