Monroe
“I’m sorry about that,” I say, staring at the door Rhett just walked out of.
Dr. Pine’s eyes are kind. “Don’t apologize.”
“I should get going.” Standing up, I grab my purse off the floor and reach for the door knob.
“Can I give you a piece of advice before you leave?”
“I’d appreciate any advice.”
He smiles. “There are a lot of bull riders in this town; several of them are patients of mine. I’ve had countless talks with them and their wives, and I’ve been able to draw one consistent conclusion: bull riding is in their blood. It’s something you and I will never understand. Who in their right mind would get on a two-thousand-pound bull?”
We both laugh, and he continues.
“But—and this is a big but that many wives have learned the hard way—if you want to continue to be part of his life, you’re going to have to accept that for what it is. Support him, love him, and one of these days when the time is right, he’ll walk. But it can’t be my decision, and it can’t be yours.”
I hate to admit it, but I know he’s right. The sport has been part of Rhett for as long as I’ve known him. His passion for it is one of the reasons I fell in love with him.
“Thank you, Doctor.” I nod and slip out the door.
Rhett isn’t in the waiting room or the hallway. I hope he’s in the parking lot, and sure enough, that’s where I find him.
Leaning against my truck, elbows resting over the bed, he faces away from me. The need to reach out to him, hold him, and comfort him grows stronger by the second, but there are a few things we need to discuss first.
“If you’re going to grill me about quitting, I’d rather not hear it,” he announces.
I rest my hand on his back, hating that he flinches at my touch. “We’re going to talk about this, but not right now. Right now I’m starving, and you promised to feed me.”
Rhett straightens his back and turns to face me. His jaw is set in a firm line, and I reach up and smooth my fingers down the side of his face. The tension eases some; I’ll have to work on the rest.
“I’d rather talk about it now and get it over with.”
I kiss his lips. “And I’m dying for some food. Isn’t your friend Lincoln supposed to have dinner with us before we head home?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I can’t wait to meet him, and I’d rather not be cranky when that happens. If we talk about everything now, that’s likely to happen.”
“I’m not changing my mind on this, Mo. I’m not quitting.”
“I know you’re not.” My hand falls to my side.
Rhett’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and answers with a surly, “Hello?” He listens for a moment. “Yeah, we’re heading there now… See you in a few.”
“That was Linc,” he says, stuffing his phone in his pocket. “He’s at The Broken Boot waiting on us.”
Rhett opens my door, shutting it after I’m buckled in, and he climbs into the driver’s seat.
The Broken Boot isn’t far, and within fifteen minutes we’re walking through a set of heavy front doors. The smell of smoke is the first thing I notice; the second is the number of cowboy hats.
“That’s a lot of cowboys.”
“Eyes on me,” Rhett says, taking my hand.
We’re held up three times as we wind through tables and pass the bar. Rhett stops to shake some hands and talk shop. He introduces me to several men whose names I’ll never remember—some are old, some are young, but it’s clear they all share a common love.
Bull riding.
The rodeo is these guys’ life. It’s hanging on the wall, printed on their shirts—it’s playing on the TV.
“You must be Monroe.”
The smooth southern voice startles me, and I turn. I’ve never met Lincoln, but I recognize him from the picture on Rhett’s mantel.
“And you must be Lincoln Bennett.”
I release Rhett’s hand, which he barely seems to notice because he’s sucked into conversation with an older gentleman. Lincoln curls his fingers around mine, and rather than shake my hand, he kisses my knuckles.
“Rhett could be a minute. I’ve got a table for us back here,” he says, leading me to a booth at the back of the place. I tap Rhett’s shoulder on my way past, pointing toward Lincoln, and he nods.
“I’ll be right there,” he says.
Linc and I slide in on opposite sides. He reaches for his beer and takes a drink.
“Rhett has told me so much about you.”
“He has?” That’s surprising, considering he hated me until not that long ago.
“I didn’t say it was all good.”
My smile fades. “Oh.” I guess he told Linc everything.
“I didn’t say it was all bad, either.” He grins.
This time, I roll my eyes. “Make up your mind, cowboy.”
“I like you. Figured I would after everything you did. Pretty hard to hate someone who threw herself under the bus to let my boy live his dream.”
I’m not sure how I feel about Rhett spilling all of our secrets to his friend. Then again, I’ve spilled them all to Claire, so I guess that makes me a hypocrite.
“Chill out, princess. Wipe the scowl off your face. Rhett was in a bad place when I met him—fresh off a breakup with you. I was the one pulling him away from the bottle every night. It wasn’t easy, but he eventually dusted himself off and moved on. He knew I wasn’t going to like you very much after everything I’d witnessed, so he told me the rest of the story. Good thing he did, too, or I’d be trying to talk him out of this.” He points his beer in my direction.
Folding my hands together, I lean on the table. “Rhett’s the best thing to ever happen to me. I’m not letting him go again.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that. Rhett’s a damn good guy—best guy I know. He’d do anything for anyone, and he deserves someone who’s going to have his back.”
“Looks like that someone is you.”
“I’ll share that role with you. Turns out I’ve been sharing it with you all along.”
The waitress stops by our table. She’s a cute little thing. Black hair, big tits, and a tight shirt. She smiles. “How are ya, Linc?”
“Good. How’s the little one?”
“Rotten.” She laughs, chomping on her gum. “You having your usual?”
“Yup. But this time add a side of sweet cut corn.”
“You got it. And what about Rhett? His usual?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I don’t know Rhett’s usual.
“Yeah, that’ll be fine. He could be over there for a while,” Linc says, glancing across the room.
“And what about you, sweetheart?” Her bright smile fades a bit when she turns to me.
“I’ll have a burger and fries, and a Diet Coke.”
“You got it.” She jots my order down.
“What’s on your dessert menu?”
She points to a chalkboard above the bar. “Cheesecake is the special. It’s really good.”
“I’ll have that. Bring it out before my meal, please.”
“Really?” She lifts a brow and looks at Linc, who just shrugs.
“Dessert before dinner?” he asks.
“Don’t judge me.”
He holds up his hands. “I’m not judging. Just curious, that’s all.”
“My grandma always said if you’re paying for food, you might as well eat the best thing first. Guess it stuck with me.”
“Your grandma sounds like a smart woman. I’ll have a piece too, before my food,” he adds.
The waitress gives me a who are you? look and walks off.
“So this is where you and Rhett hang out?” I ask, looking around. It’s big, much bigger than Dirty Dicks, but not as clean. The floors show signs of a life well lived, and the tables have seen better days. But it’s warm and has a sort of homey feel. I can see why the boys like it here.
“It is. The arena we train at is only a couple blocks south, so this is where most of the guys come.”
“Are these most of the guys?” I look around at all the men.
“Pretty much.”
“And them?” I nod to a group of women crowded around a large table in the back. There have to be least twenty of them in all different shapes and sizes.
“Most of them are wives and girlfriends. The buckle bunnies won’t roll in for another hour or so.”
“Here you go.” Our waitress sets two slices of cheesecake on the table, along with three forks. “Your food will be out shortly.”
Linc and I waste no time digging in, and when the silky cake hits my tongue, I moan.
“You make that noise again and we won’t be here long,” Rhett whispers, sliding into the booth next to me.
I smile around the bite in my mouth, and he leans in close.
“I’m sorry I got so tense this afternoon. I know you’re just looking out for me.”
“Apology accepted,” I say, kissing him gently.
He looks at Linc, who’s shoveling cheesecake into his mouth.
“Oh, dude. Not you too.”
Linc shrugs and takes another bite. “I think your woman is on to something.”
“I’m your woman,” I say, nudging Rhett in the side.
He drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “Damn right you are.”
“You getting on the bull?” Linc asks.
I look at Rhett, unsure who his buddy is talking to. I point to myself. “Me?”
“Yeah.” Linc laughs. “Cheryl is pretty easy. She won’t hurt you too bad.”
“Who is Cheryl?”
“The mechanical bull,” Linc answers, pointing to the opposite side of the bar.
Sure enough, there’s a large doorway, leading into another room.
“If you’re getting on, I suggest you do it before you eat your dinner.”
“She’s not getting on,” Rhett says, stealing a bite of my cake.
I had no intention of getting on Cheryl, but the way Rhett brushed it off makes me want to.
“You don’t think I can handle it?”
Rhett’s eyebrows lift. “I didn’t say that.”
“You were thinking it.”
“Uh-oh,” Linc mumbles.
“That’s not what I was thinking.”
“You dismissed the idea awful quickly.”
I smile as Rhett studies me, daring him to tell me I can’t do it.
“Fine.” Dropping his fork on the plate, he leans back in his seat. “Do it.”
“I will.” I take another bite of cheesecake and set Rhett’s fork on the opposite side of the table, where he can’t reach it.
“Hey, I want another bite.”
“Sorry, I don’t share my cake with people who don’t believe in my riding abilities.”
“Oh, I believe in your riding abilities, sweetheart,” he says, his voice dropping low.
My cheeks heat, and Linc shows Rhett a knowing smile.
“Move.” I scoot toward Rhett, shoving him out of the booth.
Linc tosses his napkin on the table. “This is going to be great.”
“Mo, come on,” Rhett chides. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to get hurt, sweetheart.”
I whirl on him. “Well, now maybe you know how I feel. Only when you get on a bull, your life is in danger. Mine, not so much.”
His hand locks on my elbow as I try to walk away. “Okay, point made—although it’s entirely different. You shouldn’t risk getting hurt. You have your dad to take care of. He needs you to come home in one piece.”
“And I need you to come home in one piece. It isn’t just you anymore, Rhett. I’m your who, remember? We’re a we now, and one of these days you’re going to have to accept that. I feel like you’re waiting for me to walk away or do something to mess this up, but that’s not going to happen. I’m in this for the long haul, whether you get back on a bull or not.”
“Wait a minute, I’m lost. She’s your who?” Linc says.
“I’ll explain later,” Rhett mumbles.
I turn around and walk toward the back room. Sure as shit, there’s Cheryl, a big, black mechanical bull sitting in the middle of the room. She’s surround by ropes, and the floor beneath her is covered in mats. Several tables sit off to the side, a few of them occupied.
I march up to the man with the Broken Boot shirt on. “I want to ride Cheryl.”
“You do, huh?”
Rhett and Linc step up behind me, and Rhett reaches around me to shake the guy’s hand.
“Hey, Jimmy.”
“Hey, Rhett. How are ya? How’s the shoulder?”
“It’s good. I’ll be heading back to work soon. Just have to wrap up a few loose ends.”
I’m guessing those loose ends are me.
“This your girl?” Jimmy asks.
“Yeah.” Rhett smiles fondly at me.
“You okay with her getting on Cheryl?”
“Not at all, but I don’t have much of a say.”
“Do we ever? Damn stubborn women do whatever they want,” Jimmy says, nodding toward Cheryl.
“I could say the same about men.” I look up at Rhett, a hand on my jutted hip.
Jimmy lets out a laugh. “I like you, sugar. Follow me.”