I was lucky to have been born into such a wonderful, caring family.
I shook my head, glancing out toward the yard. It was dark, but I could still see the tire swing hanging from the old oak tree out front. I had an image of Dad out there, pushing his little granddaughter on that swing. Showing her around the ranch. Teaching her to ride horses.
Trethan and I needed to have a serious talk about having children because the more I thought about it, the more I knew that I wanted them. And, I wanted those children with him.
But I was getting ahead of myself. First, Trethan and I had to figure out exactly what we were to one another. I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes as I reminded myself that for all I knew, Trethan thought we were just having sex.
Frustrated at the turn of thoughts, I reached for the remote control, hoping that maybe there would be something engrossing on TV.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Trethan
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up again for the third time in about half an hour. I looked back over my shoulder, and sure enough, the man in the corner still stared at me.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Brent, hopping off my stool and stalking over toward the man’s table. “Can I help you?” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest.
I didn’t know why him staring bothered me so much. I was trying to have a good night with Brent, and between the frustration of not being able to bet my way toward helping Vanessa with her gallery and now this, I was a little on edge, and I could honestly do with a bit of a fight to get the antsy feeling out of my system.
The man didn’t seem fazed by my argumentative tone, however, and he didn’t look like he wanted to pick a fight. Instead, he just kicked out the chair across from him, inviting me to sit down.
“I’m drinking with my buddy,” I told him. “It’s his last night in town for a while, so if you’ll fuck off and bother someone else, that’d be greatly appreciated.”
“Now come on, just have a seat for a minute, son,” the man said, a lazy drawl in his voice. “You’ll like what I have to say, I promise you.”
I glanced back toward Brent, but he was chatting with Bobby. Finally, I sank into the chair across from the man, who held out a hand for me to shake. “I’m George Jacobsen. I’m new in town. Are you from around here?”
“Yeah,” I said shortly. “My name’s Trethan Frye.”
“Trethan,” George said, nodding. “Well, Trethan, I saw your performance up on the bull. It was quite the show. You know, I really thought you were going to come off right there at the beginning. I reckon you did, as well, but you did a great job of pulling it back together.”
“Thanks,” I said suspiciously, wondering what his angle was. “Did you want to take a shot at beating me? Put your money on the table, and we’ll go head to head.”
George laughed. “Oh no,” he said. “This old body’s bull-riding days are all done, I’m afraid. However, I am a big rodeo fan, amongst other things.”
“You’ve probably come to the wrong place, then,” I told him, shrugging. “White Bluff doesn’t have much of a rodeo scene. That there with the mechanical bull? That’s pretty much the closest any of us come to rodeo. I mean, there are some of us who work with horses and livestock, but there’s no real bull-riding around here.”
“I’m about to change that,” he said, a glint in his eye. “You see, I’m looking to put together an amateur bull-riding competition. I’ve already lined up the sponsors, so all that’s left to do is find the riders.”
“And these riders, what’s their deal?” I asked. “Why would they want to take part?”
“There’s a cash prize,” he told me. “Half the proceeds will go to charity, but the winner will walk away with a cool ten grand in their pocket.”
I stared at him for a moment and then laughed harshly, ready to stand up. “You’re fucking with me,” I said. “There’s no amateur bull-riding competition that would offer that kind of money as a prize!”
“There is now,” he said confidently. “Like I said, I’ve already lined up the sponsors. I’ve got Larry Cobb lined up as an instructor at the riding school I’m opening. All of the sponsors jumped at the chance to be a part of something that has the legendary Larry Cobb involved.”
I stared blankly at him. “Sorry, but I don’t know who that is.”
That scandalized the man. “You don’t know who Larry Cobb is?” he asked, as though the emphasis might make me remember who this guy was. I’d never heard of him before in my life.
I shrugged. “I’m not really into the riding schools and all that,” I told him. “I work out at the Lazy J, but that’s more because John hired me than because I went looking for work on a ranch.”
“Larry Cobb is one of the most famous former professional riders,” George told me. “He was an absolute monster on the pro-riding circuit until a career-ending injury a few years ago. But he’s made his way back, no doubt through many hours of physical therapy, and now he’s agreed to be an instructor at my school.”
“Huh,” I said. I gave George a once-over, noting the slicked-back hair and the expensive-looking cufflinks glinting at the end of his shirt sleeves. He had East Coast written all over him, but for some reason, he was out here, trying to start up a rodeo. He couldn’t have a clue what he was doing. And to think that he was planning to open a riding school on top of that was just crazy.
“Look, not to burst your bubble, but don’t you think that maybe you’re in over your head?” I asked him. “You’re not from around here. You don’t even look the part. Who would trust you with their riding lessons, in your fancy-shmancy suit?”