BUCKED Box Set: A Bull Rider Western Romance (9 page)

She
nodded,
but didn’t say anything else. It’s not
like we were the best of buddies after one apology, but it was a start.
At least,
we could maybe exist in the same room
without me feeling like she wanted to rip my throat out.

When we
approached Sara’s house, Jackson was already standing there, holding the door
open with his left hand while he bent into a low bow. He offered
Laci
his other hand like he was some kind of
gallant gentleman helping Victorian royalty out of their carriage. “M’lady,” he
said.

Laci took
his hand and mimed holding a skirt out before daintily tiptoeing into the
house. “Thank you, good sir,” she said in a snooty, British accent. After Laci
had
passed
him, he jumped in front of me,
stuck his tongue out, laughed, and then ran inside. One thing’s for sure, he
may be wise at times, but he’s still a kid.

In the
kitchen, Sara stood at the table, fanning out taco shells while Jackson rattled
on about our morning’s events. She reacted at all the appropriate times, then
told him to wash up before the food got cold. He bounced over to the sink and
began to scrub his hands. Laci sat down at the table, pouring herself a glass
of tea. “Smells awesome, Aunt Sara,” she noted as she took a sip and set her
glass down.

“That’s
because it is awesome,” Sara told her, winking at Jackson who had joined them
at the table. Sara cocked her head toward me. “Well, are you gonna wash up and
join us or stand there like a bump on a log?”

“I dunno.
I had more of a graceful willow tree in mind, actually,” I spouted back,
swaying my arms above my head like willow branches in the breeze.

Jackson
howled with laughter. Sara shook her head and said, “Alright, Mr. Comedian,
wash your hands.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the sink and
started spooning beef into a tortilla.

As
expected, the food was amazing.
Definitely
some of the best tacos I’d ever had. The conversation was pretty good, too. I
cracked a bunch of jokes to hoots and hollers from Jackson. I think a smile
even crossed Laci’s face once or twice. When we’d eaten till we were full,
Jackson and I went back outside. Wanting to show Laci his newfound skill for
walking a makeshift balance beam, Jackson begged her to come out with us. She
sat in the shade of the barn and watched him cross between the cinder blocks,
and she nearly lost her head when he threw himself off the side to show her his
safe falling.

He landed
on his upper thigh, then stood up and threw his arms in the air like a gymnast
who just stuck the landing. “Tada!”

“Geez,
Jackson! Don’t do that to me!” she scolded. “I thought you were about to bust
your face open or something!”

“Sorry,”
he tittered, “but I had to show you that Noah taught me how to fall safely.”

She shot
me a “you’re-lucky-he’s-okay” kind of look, then hopped to her feet and
announced she was thirsty. “I’m parched, so I’m gonna go get some lemonade.
Want some?”

“Heck
yeah, I do!”

“And,
you?” she asked, turning to me.

“Heck
yeah, I do!” I exclaimed, mimicking Jackson.

When she
returned, Jackson and I were in the middle of climbing a tree, and she scoffed
and shifted her weight. “You’re just
trying
to get him to hurt himself, aren’t you?” She stood there impatiently, holding a
tray with three lemonades and some cookies on it.

“No,” I
balked, hanging sideways from a branch like an ape. “This is an important
lesson in bull riding. He’s gotta get used to dangerous stuff if he wants to
have any hope
of
making it. That’s lesson
five, Jack,” I added, throwing him a wink.

“Ten-four!”
he shouted, letting me know he’d made a mental note of it.

“Well, if
you’re having fun, I guess I’ll just enjoy all of this fresh-squeezed, ice cold
lemonade and these warm, gooey cookies myself,” she said with a smirk, setting
the tray down on the grass and sitting cross-legged beside it. She took a sip
from one cup, then picked up a cookie and licked it.
Classy,
I thought,
seems like
something I’d do.

As she
started to reach for the second glass of lemonade, Jackson and I simultaneously
called out, “No!” and scrambled down the tree as quickly as we could. I
snatched up my lemonade and started to thirstily slurp it down. Jackson went
straight for the cookies, stuffing two in his mouth at the same time.

“Y’know,”
he mumbled thickly through the food in his mouth, “I could get used to this. I
like having you around, Laci, and I’m having fun learning bull riding lessons
from you, Noah.”

“I like
being around you, too, twerp,” she smiled, ruffling his hair.

“Eh, I
guess you’re alright,” I told him, nudging his cheek with my fist. For a minute
there, it actually felt strangely like we were some kind of weird family,
Princess Laci and I the estranged parents of a hyperactive young boy—never mind
the fact that he was somewhat of an old soul and was probably wiser than both
of us combined. The moment was broken, however, when Laci decided it was time
for her to go inside where it was
air-conditioned
.
Princess
.

The rest
of the day passed with me pulling random “lessons” out of my ass and Jackson
clinging to my every word. It was as satisfying as things could get. When the
day was over and I walked him back to his house, Sara gave me the payment Laci
had mentioned—though I didn’t know it at that exact moment. She came out,
hugged me around the neck, and thanked me for giving him something to do. “He’s
been a little mopey ever since I came back, but he’s absolutely on top of the
world with you teaching him like this, even though it’s only his first day,” she
told me. I told her it was no problem and turned to walk home, intending to hop
in the shower. Instead, I found myself helping Dad in the stables. It was
nearly ten that night when I finally got to head in the house for that shower I
now desperately needed.

As I undid
my belt and dropped my shorts, I heard my phone plunk to the floor. Reaching in
the pocket to get it out, I also found a piece of paper wrapped around a
fifty-dollar bill. I unfolded it and read:

Really, it means so much.

Smiling, I
tucked the money into my wallet and set it on my dresser, then whipped my shirt
into the hamper and grabbed a pair of boxers, which I carried with me as I
streaked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I let the water wash over me
and rinse away the sweat and grime of the day.

I could get used to this, too,
I thought. When I’d finished washing off and
dried my body, I slid my boxers on and crawled into bed. With a satisfied sigh,
I drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Nine – Laci

For the
most part, my first week at the ranch was pretty uneventful. I spent a lot of
spare time chatting with Grandma and watching Jackson show me all the new
things he was learning from Noah. When I wasn’t doing that, Sara and I were out
with the horses, now that I was able to face being around them. It wasn’t until
Thursday that things were anything but uneventful. We were in the stables, her
with a brush in her hand to groom the
horses
when she tried to get me to ride again.

“Y’know,
Lace, you’ve been here almost a week and you still haven’t gotten on the back
of a horse.”

“Yeah, I
know,” I said, still petting Greg (named after my grandpa) and avoiding her
stare.

“Why is
that? Your mom used to always gush that you’re
a
natural
with horses.”

“I am,” I admitted.
“I love them.”

“Then why
are you avoiding getting on one?”

I guessed
it was time to come clean. “I’ve only ever been riding with Mom. It feels wrong
without her.”

“Oh,
honey,” she said sympathetically. “I didn’t know
that
was your reasoning. Here I was, thinking you just had
something against my babies.” She patted Greg affectionately.

“No, not
at all. I actually think they’re beautiful.” Just then, Rose (named after my
grandma’s sister), let out a loud snort. Taking it to mean she wanted attention,
too, I walked over and opened the door to her stall and walked in. Much to my
dismay, however, she appeared to be peeing all over the place. “You’re such a
charmer, Rose,” I told her. She snorted again, and Sara came over.

“What’s
she snorting about?” The color blanched from her face when she saw the wet
ground. “Wait a minute, Laci, did that look like pee?”

“Yeah,
that’s why I said she was a charmer. Why are you so pale?”

“Lace,
she’s about to give birth! Here, take my phone and call Owen,” she said,
pulling her phone out of her pocket and tossing it to me.

“Who’s
Owen?”

“He’s the
ranch hand Gram hired last week to help us train the horses. He’ll know what to
do better than either of us! Call him!” she commanded.

I scrolled
through her contacts and pressed his name. He picked up after two rings.

“Hey
there, Sara, I was-”

“Owen,
this is Sara’s niece, Laci. Rose is about to give birth, and Sara told me to
call you.”

“Shit,
really? I’m on my way!” he hung up and I slid the phone in my pocket.

“He’s on
his way,” I assured Sara. “What can we do to help her?”

“There
isn’t much we can do at this stage, I don’t think. Owen will know better.”

“Well, we
can’t just wait and do nothing until he gets here! Can we?”

“Lace,
it’s fine. He lives on the other side of the Tucker ranch. He’ll be here soon.”

Rose
started breathing heavily and lay down on her side. Sara knelt beside her and
rubbed her back while I stood there, completely at a loss as to what I should
do. A couple of minutes later, Owen came running up, thoroughly out of breath.

“Shit, she
sure is in labor!” he called.

“No,
really?” I said, rolling my eyes. “We couldn’t tell.”

He gave me
a dirty look and knelt down.

“Lace, go
get Jack. I’m sure he’ll want to see this, too,” Sara instructed me. I nodded and
then took off at a run toward the Tucker ranch. I found Noah and Jackson in
front of the house, doing pushups together as they counted aloud.

“Hey,” I
puffed. “Rose is about to have the foal. Your mom told me to come get you.”

“What?”
Jackson said. “Why would I want to see that?”

“I don’t
know! She said to come get you,” I panted. “And, I didn’t run over here for
nothing. You’re coming with me.”

He stood
up and Noah jumped up after him. “I can come help. I’ve helped horses give
birth a few times.”

“It’s
okay,” I waved my hand dismissively, “Gram hired a guy named Owen to help. He’s
there now.”

“Owen?”
Noah asked, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “The Owen that lives over
there? He’s a real numbskull.”

“Well,
that’s not for me to judge. Now, come on, Jack!”

Grumbling,
Jackson about having to watch and Noah about Owen being there, the boys both
followed me back. When we got there, the foal was already lying beside its
mother, the goop being
licked
off its
head.

“It’s a
girl!” cooed Sara. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

“Oh my
God!” I exclaimed. “Look at her!”

“Jack, can
you go get Grandma? She’ll never forgive us if we don’t tell her right away.”

“But I
just got here!” complained Jackson.

“Funny,” I
noted. “You were pretty reluctant to come over here a minute ago.”

“That was
when I thought I had to watch,” he said, sticking his tongue out. “But now that
the baby’s here, I don’t wanna leave. Look how cute she is!”

“It’s
okay,” Owen piped in. “I can go get her.” He stood and walked toward the house
while Noah, once again, added his two cents’ worth.

“I wanna
take a closer look,” he said, kneeling down next to the horses. He straightened
and bent the filly’s legs and looked at her teeth, then seeming satisfied, he
sat back on his feet and declared her “healthy as a horse” before laughing his
ass off. Jackson thought it was hysterical, too, but God, I hate puns. Moments
later, Owen returned, Grandma waddling along beside him with her arm hooked
through his.

“Nothing
like the miracle of a new life to bring people together,” she said, winking at
me then glancing at Noah with a smile. A little part of me wanted to tell her
all the reasons why that was never going to happen right then and there, but
deciding not to spoil the moment, I laughed and leaned down next to Rose.

“You did a
great job, I bet,” I whispered in her ear. “I wish I could’ve been here for
you.” Call me crazy, but talking to horses is one of my favorite things to do.
It’s cathartic to pour out your deepest, darkest secrets and have someone listen
without judging you. Mom and I used to do it all the time.

In fact,
one of my earliest memories is from one time when, on their ten-year
anniversary, Mom and Dad took me horseback riding with them. They were high
school sweethearts, but I didn’t come along until six years after they married,
so I was only four. I remember Dad insisting that his mom could watch me, but
Mom wouldn’t hear a word of it because she wanted to spend their anniversary
celebrating the family they’d built together. Mom won, and when we got to the
stables, she spent more time talking to the horses than to him. Apparently, I
sat there and babbled away to the horses, too, like Mom. Dad swore that I was
certain they were responding to me the whole time. Ah, young minds. Sometimes I
wonder what happens to our childlike whimsy as we get older.

As I sat
on my knees next to Rose, telling her she would be a great mother and that I
couldn’t wait to see her baby grow, it dawned on me that this was all the
family I had left. Then and there, I planned to come
back
every summer and certainly at Christmas, if not more
frequently. My gaze passed from one family member to the next until
I my
eyes met with Noah’s. The weirdest look
came over his face, and I suddenly felt my stomach flip-flop. You’d think
growing up on a ranch, he would be used to seeing people talk
to
horses, but he stood there, staring at me
like he’d never known humans had mouths and could speak, so I defensively
crossed my arms over my chest. I gave him my best “say-something-I-dare-you”
look, and he promptly turned to Owen and asked how Rose did with pushing.

They
started talking about the mechanics of a horse giving birth, which wasn’t
something you’d want to witness—the conversation, I mean; giving birth was
natural and probably a cool thing to see—they made it seem offensive by the
hand movements they made as they spoke animatedly.

In the
meantime, trying to distract myself from the awkwardness next to me, I turned
to Jackson and asked what he thought we should name the foal. After mulling it
over for a solid minute, tapping his foot and scratching his head all the
while, he looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Lisa.”

It was all
I could do to hold the tears back. I started to sniffle and blinked several
times, then put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “That sounds perfect,” I told him
as a few tears escaped.

Feeling
stupid for crying with both Owen and Noah nearby—not really prepared to let
anyone see my vulnerable side— I wiped my eyes, offered to walk Gram back to
the house, and promised to bring everyone something to drink. She gratefully
accepted my arm.

After I
made sure she was seated happily in her recliner with a tall glass of sweet tea
and her favorite TV show on (some weird game show where the contestants could
win bizarre things like a cockatoo), I went to the kitchen and made five Arnold
Palmers a la Laci—my own special recipe which not only included sweet tea and
lemonade, but also a dash of pomegranate juice. I arranged them in a pyramid
shape on a tray, the way bowling pins are set up, and started off toward the
stable. Much to my surprise, they weren’t
there
as
I’d expected.

Instead, I
found them at a tree, arguing. Owen saying he didn’t understand why it was such
a big deal and Noah insisting, “I’m telling you, it has to be tied at three
points for the best tire swing!”

I couldn’t
believe my ears. Two grown ass men were actually arguing about the best way to
attach a tractor tire to a tree branch. Sara kept trying to get them to cool it
down, but when she couldn’t get a word in, she threw her hands up in
exasperation and walked toward me. “They’re worse than Jack, honestly,” she
said. I took a look at Jackson standing there, bouncing with excitement, his
eyes ping-ponging back and forth as the men argued.

“Here,” I
said, handing the tray to Sara. “I’ve had to deal with stupid arguments like
this more than you know—theater can be a heated arena, after all.” She took it
and watched with wide eyes as I stalked over to the verbal altercation and
stopped it dead in its tracks.

I took the
rope, threw one end over the tree, looped the other end and tied it, then
wrapped the loose end around the tree to keep it in place. As the men stared at
me, dumbfounded, I put one foot in the loop and pushed off, demonstrating the
very effective swing I’d created.

Jackson
started bouncing once again. “My turn, my turn!”

I
dismounted and did my sweetest curtsey while Jackson applauded and stuck his
foot in the swing and began to giggle with glee. Without a single word, I
turned and walked back to Sara, cheerfully accepting the Arnold Palmer she held
out to me. “Brava,” she laughed. “That was
genius
.
I think the best part was the look on Noah’s face when you started to swing.
Priceless!”

“Oh,
really?” I asked, genuinely interested. I took a sip of my drink, which was
very refreshing, and said, “Do tell.”

“He looked
like he either wanted to wring your neck, jump your bones, or both. Something
like this,” she said before trying to demonstrate. She bit her bottom lip and
looked me up and down through narrowed eyes, then she started laughing again.
My stomach did a little flip-flop. I couldn’t tell if I liked that he had
looked at me like that or hated it.

Trying to
distract myself from thinking too deeply into it, I warned her, “Careful, or
you’ll end up wearing those.”

“Oh, Lace,
I waitressed for fifteen years, I can handle a few drinks on a tray.”

The men
walked over to us to take their drinks. Noah cocked his head a little and said,
“Well, that was unexpected.”

I winked
at him as sarcastically as I could manage and turned to Jackson. “So? What do
you think?”

“Much
better than a dumb old tire swing!” he burst out.

After he’d
gulped down about half of it, Owen lowered his cup and wiped his mouth with the
back of his hand. “Damn, that’s good!” he declared. Sara gave him an
“eat-shit-and-die” look, and he apologized sheepishly. “Sorry, Jack, excuse my
language.”

“I’ve
heard worse,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders to indicate his indifference.

Me, too,
I thought.