Tiebreaker (It Takes Two 2)

Lost in thought, my mind still on Noah and Crystal, means I don’t hear her. “Who’s here?”

“Jonah Walters. His son, Caleb, is my student.”

I twist in my seat at the picnic table to search the crowd and find the object of her interest. He’s your stereotypical golden boy. Tall, built, scruffy sandy hair––perpetual half grin. He’s clutching the hand of a young boy who is the carbon copy of his blond father. “And?”

“And he’s divorced.” The word divorced gets special treatment. It’s drawn out and hushed. Bebe gets a wistful look and Bebe does not do wistful. Ever.

“I thought you weren’t interested in anyone.”

“I wasn’t. Not until I found out his divooorce went through…he’s sooo cute.”

I have never, in my entire life, ever heard Bebe speak this way about any man so naturally my interest is piqued. I look again. Maybe I missed something. Nope. I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice guy but…you know, bland. I shrug. To each his own.

“That guy, really? You want to date him?”

The fixed stare she’s leveling on Jonah Walters has me a little concerned for his welfare.

“What I really want is for him to throw me down face-first, hogtie me with very rough rope, and have his very wicked way with me. Then I’d like to date him.”

I snort. “Umm, okay. I’m sorry I asked. Now I have to go to sleep with that image in my head.”

She throws a French fry at me and I laugh.

Scanning the crowd, I spot Chief Brandt leaning against the side of a round pen with a hand tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. Out of uniform, wearing a black button-down and jeans, he actually seems more threatening. As if the uniform is the only thing keeping him in check. He reminds me of a lone, dark wolf amongst a pack of bland golden boys…and the big bad wolf is staring at my sister.

“I don’t know if Jonah is the type to hogtie, Be. You might want to look elsewhere for that.”

She doesn’t hear me though, too absorbed in watching Jonah get in line at the ice cream stand. Bebe gets up from the table and drops the rest of her hot dog in the trash. “I’m feeling like ice cream right now.”

“I bet you are,” I deadpan. “I’m going to walk around while you do that.”

She doesn’t even bother answering, already on her way over.

* * *

While Bebe does her thing, I wander through the fair. There’s no way I’m going back to the Rowdy’s stand to be subjected to any more humiliation at the hands of those two. I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime.

The crowd around the PBR tent is deep. Two of the bigger names on the circuit are in attendance, signing autographs and posing for pictures. A guy I recognize from high school spots me and waves me over.

“Well if it isn’t Maren Murphy in the flesh.” Jimmy tips his Stetson back and flashes me a big, white grin.

I roll my eyes and laugh. Jimmy was always a great big flirt. It’s then I realize his shirt is embroidered with sponsor logos. “When did you go pro?”

“Four years ago.” Jimmy’s smile melts. “With Rowdy’s help. I’m so sorry, Maren.”

“Yeah––me too.”

“Hey listen, you don’t mind signing some autographs for donations, do you?”

“I’d love to.”

Jimmy grabs a microphone while I take a seat on one of the vacant director’s chairs under the banner.

“Folks, listen up. Not only do we have some of your favorite bull riders here today, but we’ve also got the granddaughter of one of the greatest of all time, Rowdy Ronald Murphy. Please help me welcome Wimbledon winner, Maren Murphy.”

Cheers erupt, the crowd builds, and for the next hour I’m busy signing autographs, taking pictures, and accepting condolences for Rowdy’s passing. By the time night rolls out, I’m ready to find my sister and head home.

It’s then that Noah very casually strolls up. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with a Rowdy’s logo tight enough to show every curve of his chest.

My blood still sizzling from earlier, I ignore him. Truth is, I needed a reality check. I should thank him for reminding me how much he hurt me. It’s easy to forget that I should be mad at him.

He nods at Jimmy and Jimmy nods back.

“Jim.”

“Noah.” They exchanged a weird look.

Gimme a break.

“What do you want?” His appearance begs the question. He’s obviously not here for an autograph. “Don’t you have employees to intimidate?”

“Did that already.” His lips quiver, fighting a smile. I sniff and look away.

“An ex-girlfriend to cheat with?” Yep, I went there. “What, no snappy comeback?”

“You didn’t come by your stand.”

At the sound of him calling Rowdy’s mine, my gaze returns to him. Expression now sober, Noah delves into the front pocket of his jeans and retrieves cash. He holds up two crisp C notes and stuffs them in the donation jar.