Chute Yeah (The Valentine Boys 3)

“Oh, I know that better than most,” I found myself saying. “Remember? I was the punch line of one of those stupid jokes you and your friends thought was funny.”

Banks ground his back molars together.

I could hear them grinding, even.

“When are you going to let that go?” he asked.

I gritted my teeth. “Never.”

Because I couldn’t let it go.

Something had happened to me because he’d said yes. Something bad. Something that I still couldn’t get over.

Something that nobody, not even the man standing in front of me, knew about.

“Figures,” Banks muttered as he put Fern back into the pen. “Get a new lock.”

With that he walked away and didn’t look back.

And I watched him go, heart in my throat.

***

“What’s the point of this again?” I whined.

Mack looked over at me and grinned. “I have to take photos for the newspaper, Candy. You said you’d come with me so nobody would bother me.”

I had said that.

But I also hadn’t realized that Banks would be at the rodeo, too. Had I known, I might not have volunteered so fast.

I might’ve tried to push my best friend into inviting his wife along.

His wife that I was really good friends with, who knew almost all there was to know about Banks as both Mack and I did.

“Shit,” I sighed, looking at my booted feet.

My boots had heels. I was dressed to the nines, and I knew without a doubt that if Banks saw me, he would give me shit.

He might not actually say anything to me aloud, but he would give me a side eye and silent condemnation.

That was Banks’ way, though.

“Come on,” Mack said, grabbing hold of my hand and giving me a good yank to get me started toward the fairgrounds. “This is a big rodeo. The biggest one in East Texas. Trust me. You’ll probably not even see him.”

That was a lie, and we both knew it.

Banks was a popular man. If the newspaper was going to get anything at all tonight, it’d be a shot of Banks Valentine.

“I hear he’s riding Scooby, too,” Mack said excitedly. “That’s Codie’s bull. You remember Codie, right?”

“Yes,” I muttered darkly. “I remember her.”

Codie was Ace Valentine’s woman. She was also the owner of Scooby, the bull that had swept the rodeo circuit by storm.

Codie was pulling in the big bucks, and even though I didn’t follow the rodeo circuit all that often seeing as Banks was a big part of it, I’d still heard quite a bit about Scooby and Scooby’s owner, Codie.

The small town we lived in had hated Codie. Her mother had been ‘trash’ according to the town, and Codie had been a little firecracker when she was younger, doing things that weren’t done in Small Town Texas. When Codie had come home from Dallas, or wherever she’d been in North Texas, she’d definitely not been welcomed back. At least, not until she’d started dating Ace Valentine, and he’d let it be known far and wide that if she was hurt in any way by anybody in town, he’d deal with it.

And he had. Quite a few times.

Enough that people didn’t whisper about her behind her back any longer.

“I wonder if she’s here?” he said as he practically skipped ahead of us.

We stopped at the ticket line and purchased tickets, as well as the fairgrounds that were connected to the rodeo. From there, we moved into the arena and I immediately moved to the first food truck I saw, walking right up to the window and ordering a funnel cake.

“I can’t believe you can eat that shit and it does not go straight to your ass,” Mack said with disgust clearly in his voice.

I shrugged as I reached for the plate and smiled at the lady who’d given me extra powdered sugar like I’d asked.

“You’re the best,” I said to her.

The older woman winked and took the next person’s order.

I walked back to Mack who sighed when he saw my food.

“I made a pact with Amity,” he mumbled. “We’re going to start eating healthier. I didn’t think this through all the way.”

I grinned as I took my first bite, moaning softly when the taste hit my tongue.

“Oh, God.” I groaned. “It’s so good.”

Mack punched me lightly in the shoulder, causing powdered sugar to puff off of my plate and pepper my black tank top with it.

I sighed, not bothering to wipe it off.

“Thanks,” I muttered darkly. “That was nice.”

He grinned and gestured to the large arena where we could hear loud voices cheering.

“I think that the calf roping is on right now,” he said. “They’re moving to the bulls at eight. That gives us enough time to find the press seats and get comfortable.”

I took another large bite, spilling even more powdered sugar, and followed dutifully behind him.

We found the spots easy enough, and I took my seat with half my funnel cake left.