He’d tried to corner me that same day, to explain the whole Josie thing, but I basically told him enough had been explained and to leave me alone. He did.
And he didn’t.
Just when I was sure Jesse had forgotten my name, I’d find him watching me in the middle of lunch. As soon as I’d look his way, his gaze would shift.
After a few days, though, I didn’t catch Jesse staring at me once. He’d taken my advice after all.
It was Saturday night, and the ranch was quiet. Other than the cattle mooing, the crickets chirping, the noise coming from the ranch hand bunkhouse, and the washing machines whirring a floor below me. So, yeah. Quiet wasn’t the right word for it, but it was as quiet as Willow Springs ever could be.
It was rodeo night, and I guessed around those parts, that was a big deal. Like Texas football big deal. Most everyone had already headed out. Rose had stopped by my room to see if I wanted to go and needed a ride. I told her I wasn’t sure if I was going yet and that I was sure I could find a ride if I decided to go. I didn’t like telling Rose a white lie, two of them at that, but I didn’t want to take the chance of finding myself crammed next to Jesse in the family Suburban.
From the sounds of it, the rodeo fairgrounds weren’t far away. I’d hoofed it plenty of times in my life.
I watched the Walkers’ Suburban head down the driveway before grabbing my purse and heading downstairs. I checked my phone and found the same missed calls I’d been missing all week. Not that I was missing much.
Mom had blown up my phone ever since I got to Willow Springs. I’d never answered one of her calls. She’d even left a few voicemails. I didn’t listen to them. She called Rose and left messages with her asking I give her a call back. I never did.
Mom was the reason I was at Willow Springs. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it there. I just felt as if she’d written me off and went with the easiest way to deal with me as she could. When it came to me, Mom was a pro at identifying the avenues that required minimal time and effort on her part. Basically, I’d been a houseplant for the past eighteen years. I was given just enough water and sun to keep me alive, but nothing more. Willow Springs was a classic example. Instead of trying to get to the bottom of why her daughter was floundering through life, she sent me off to ranch boot camp to “prove” myself worthy of art school.
There was so much messed up about that it made my head spin.
It made my head spin so much, I walked as fast as my legs could move. The weather had been cool the past week, and that night was no exception. Thankfully I’d pulled on my hoodie before leaving. Even at my power walk of a pace, my mostly bare legs were on the threshold of goosebumps.
About an hour later, the fairgrounds were in view. From the sounds of it, I guessed the rodeo happenings had started. The noise was as impressive as any concert I’d ever been to, but the sounds were different. Instead of screams and wails, there were a lot of hee-haws and whistling.
After weaving through a caravan of shiny, big trucks, I made my way up to the entrance.
“Hey, hun,” the middle-aged ticket lady said, trying to make her inspection of me casual. “Just one?” She reached for the ticket roll to tear one off.
“Um, Garth Black was supposed to leave a ticket up here for me,” I said. “One ticket for Rowen Sterling.” Garth told me a couple of days ago he got a few free tickets as a perk to competing, and he’d leave one for me at the ticket counter.
From the frown on the lady’s face as she shuffled through a few envelopes in a drawer, I guessed that ticket wasn’t waiting for me.
“Hmm,” she said, pulling one of those envelopes free. “I don’t have one here from Garth Black, but I do have one with your name on it.” She flipped the envelope over so I could see my name scribbled down on it.
My eyebrows came together. “Are you sure that isn’t from Garth?”
“Honey, trust me, I’m sure.” She pulled the ticket out of the envelope and slid it across the counter toward me.
“Because he pretty much looks like the rest of the guys here. Big hat, big belt buckle, big ego . . . that sort of thing.”
“Garth Black may look like the rest of the cowboys out there, but the boy who left you this ticket is something else altogether.” My throat was already going dry when she said, “Jesse Walker left you this ticket.”
“Are you sure?” I tried not to look too flustered.
She chuckled a few notes. “Yeah, I’m sure. When Jesse Walker comes smiling up to your booth, that’s not the kind of thing a girl forgets.”
I knew the feeling.
“Okay.” I took the ticket. “Thanks.”
As I headed into the grandstand area, I tried not to over think the ticket issue. Garth said he’d leave me one and he didn’t. Jesse never said he’d leave me one and he did. I had one big Why? to both of those statements and no answers.
In fact, I wasn’t sure I wanted the Whys answered.
The grandstand was even bigger than it’d looked from outside. Row upon row of metal bleachers crept up and around the dirt arena, and they were packed to capacity with bodies. A sea of cowboy and cowgirl hats swayed and bobbed in waves. It was an impressive sight. And it was noisy. So much so, I almost wished I had a pair of earplugs handy. A nose-plug would have been useful, too, because the place had that familiar barn smell that leaned more toward the offensive side. That might have been because I walked right past one of the big corrals where a bunch of frothing at the mouth and pawing at the ground bulls were stored. Damn. Someone had to have a death wish to attempt riding one of those things.