Rider’s Block

9. Chapter Nine

Chapter nine

“Spin You Round,” Morgan Wallen

I t takes little to no convincing to get everyone to pile in the truck and head to the dance hall. To my surprise, usually all-business-no-play-grumpy-Eric doesn’t even hesitate a second before joining us. I want to ask Christine if what I’m wearing is okay, but I assume if everyone is coming from the rodeo then I’m probably just fine. Wish I had my hat, though.

We pull into a parking lot a twenty-minute drive away, and Dean wasn’t kidding. The place is packed. It looks like everyone migrated their way over here. I get a kick at how the parking lot is eighty-eight percent trucks. There are a few cars, sure, but it’s mainly trucks. And not just your usual trucks. The kind of trucks that can pull gooseneck trailers and haul their weight in livestock.

We file into the bar and Dean dips down to my level to ask my drink order.

“What are you getting?” I fire back, wanting to fully immerse myself in the experience. I can hold my own pretty well when it comes to alcohol. I don’t know where it comes from, it’s not like I was ever a big partier, but I’ve always preferred the harder drinks to sugary ones. It always annoyed my last boyfriend that I’d order a harder drink than him, but sugar makes me feel worse than any alcohol does.

“I’m a Pendleton guy,” he says with a pat to his chest.

“Whiskey?”

“The best.”

“Sounds good to me,” I say evenly.

“No shit? You sure?”

“Dean, I’ll be alright. Besides, beer hurts my stomach.”

“If you say so.” Then looking behind me, he directs his comment to Eric. “Keep an eye on this one, starting out strong.” He means it in jest, but I almost take it as a challenge. I shouldn’t, but I do. Dean is off and getting our drinks before I can call him out, and I feel Eric walk in a little closer to me. The music isn’t all that loud, but just loud enough that you have to lean in a bit to hear someone. I don’t mind all that much if it’s Eric doing the leaning.

“Whiskey, huh?”

“Well, I prefer tequila honestly, but really I just hate sugary drinks.” Eric’s eyebrows rise at my response as he takes a sip of his own drink. “Do you guys always do this after a rodeo?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going, but away from talking about myself.

“Dean usually does. Trevor and Christine do sometimes as well.”

“And you?”

“I don’t mind it, but it can be too crowded sometimes.”

“How’s tonight compared to others?”

Eric scans the room and it’s easy to see his displeasure growing with each new scene he takes in “It’s pretty busy in here tonight.”

I follow his lead and take in my surroundings. If there’s one thing I did get right in my book, it was the dance hall. The whole space is decorated with paneled or aged wood. Neon signs light up most of the place, and now that I look closely only the bar area has any actual lighting. There’s a dance floor in the middle of the whole bar that has couples twirling around and my eyes immediately snag at the sight.

Two-stepping; I’ve heard of it, sure. But these guys are doing more than that. Couples look like they’re practically gliding across the floor, and when I pay close enough attention to the footwork I notice a slight flick of the ankle the guys in bulky cowboy boots somehow manage to accomplish. And that’s the baseline. From there, other couples are twirling, dipping, and figure-eighting their arms in pretzel-like movements that I never in a million years feel like I could replicate.

I’m surprised to see a familiar face in the midst of the twirling and spinning—Penny sees me and hurries her way over to the side.

“Amelia! You’re here! Girlfriend, look at those boots, they were made for you.”

“They’re surprisingly comfortable.” I look down and kick my heel out for inspection. Over my shoulder I see Eric looking down at them as well and, yeah, it makes my stomach flutter a little bit.

“Did you like your first rodeo?” she asks enthusiastically, her dance partner hanging around, obviously hoping she continues to dance with him, but it seems like she’s forgotten him altogether.

“It was amazing, I had no idea I’d get such an adrenaline rush from it!”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see you, I was there—”

She’s cut off when Dean walks up to the group and hands me my drink. The tension around the little group that’s formed is new, and I can’t get a read on it, but I notice Penny straightens up when she sees him…but it almost looks like she actually stiffens up.

“Here’s your drink, darlin’, I got a water for you back at the table as well…you know, in case you can’t actually hold your liquor.”

“Is that a challenge?” I can tell he’s goading me, but it’s too fun not to participate.

“We’ll see,” he says with a wink and then notices Penny. His shoulders also stiffen, but I see a small twinkle in his eye. “Penny, good to see you.” He dips his hat in her direction.

“Hi, Dean,” she all but grits out. Then looking over her shoulder—finally acknowledging the poor guy that’s been waiting at her heels the whole conversation—she grabs his hand. “Alright, Mike, let’s go back and dance. It was good to see you, Amelia! Come down to the shop again this week and say hi!”

“Oh, I will, I need a new hat…” That halts Penny’s quick retreat for a second.

“What happened to your hat?” She’s got a bit of a smirk to her that has a warning written all over it.

Eric decides this is the moment to join the conversation. “Ringo trampled it.”

“Didn’t you ride Ringo tonight?” Penny asks.

“Yep.”

“And you won?” Penny’s smirk only grows, and I feel myself start to blush for reasons I can’t articulate at the moment.

“Yep,” Eric, the man of many words, confirms.

“Interesting. Well, then, Amelia you really need to come see me then.” She twirls on her heel, grabbing Mike’s hand, and they reenter the flow of people dancing.

“How do you know Penny?” Dean asks from next to me. I follow his gaze and he can’t seem to take his eyes off her. I’ve seen women draped all over Dean from the moment I’ve met him, but I’ve never seen him return any real affection. But the look in his eyes right now? Pure longing.

“I think the better question is, how do you know Penny?” I nudge him in the shoulder to keep it light, but I can’t help it, I’m a romance writer. I can sniff out unrequited love a mile away.

“We used to be best friends.”

“Used to be?”

“Yeah, but that was a long time ago.”

“Did you guys date?”

“No, not really.”

“That was pretty vague there, Dean, you can’t leave me hanging like that.”

“Let’s just say I think I missed the boat.”

Before I can challenge him on it, I feel a hand at my elbow. Thinking that hand probably belongs to Eric, I turn to smile, but instead of Eric’s familiar but grumpy face, I am greeted by a distinctly unfamiliar face.

“Hi, miss, my name’s Colton, would you like to dance?”

I’m struck a little silent by the boldness of the situation, but Colton seems like a nice guy at first inspection. And I am at a dance hall, what should I have expected? I hear Eric clear his throat behind me, but the first thought that comes into my mind is you snooze you lose, buddy .

I nod my head and Colton leads me out to the dance floor. It’s only when we’re in a sea of moving people that I realize my mistake. “Colton, I’m sorry I’ve never done this before, I’m probably going to be terrible at it.”

He chuckles a deep, hearty chuckle that sadly does nothing for the butterflies in my stomach. He’s attractive, and I want to be attracted to him, but I’m just…not. “That’s alright, miss…uh, pardon my manners but I haven’t gotten your name yet.”

“Amelia.”

“That’s alright, Amelia, it’s all about how the guy leads. I’ll keep it simple for you.”

He scoops me up in his arms—and again, I feel no dip in my stomach, no swooping of affection, nothing—and starts to move us around the dance floor.

True to his word, his ability to lead fully makes up for the fact that I’ve never before done this in my life. There was a moment where I thought my participation was crucial, but once I realized trusting the one-two-step process and following his lead meant the path of least resistance, it was easy to pick up from there. Before I knew it the song was over, and to my eternal gratitude Dean was right behind him, ready to take his place.

Colton politely thanks me for the dance and moves on to dance with the next girl. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the easy pass off was…refreshing. He really had no other expectations than to dance? It’s kind of shocking, actually.

“West Coast, you look like a natural out here,” Dean says as we start to move with the next song. “You sure this is your first time dancing?”

“Pretty sure,” I say, looking up. Dean is also attractive, but again…nothing. If it weren’t for the stares from Eric giving me stomach flutters, I would have thought I was a little broken. It’s been so long, I wouldn’t be surprised to find myself unable to feel attraction again, but of all the people did I have to be attracted to the grump?

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have two left feet. I think you’re going to be out here awhile tonight, so I wanted to sneak a dance with you while I had the chance.”

“I’m flattered, really, but what do you mean?”

He looks down at me like I’ve just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. “You’re new around here, you’re gorgeous, and you’re wearing red boots. Might as well be a siren call.”

Heat rising to my cheeks again for the third time that evening, I blurt out, completely alarmed, “What is it with the red boots?!”

“Not a bad thing at all, darlin’, not many people can pull them off. But you’re doing a mighty good job of it.” He polishes off the statement with a friendly smile. Dean makes me miss my brother so much.

The song finishes and I follow Dean back to our table so I can have some of my drink. I assume the ice must be pretty melted, making it a little more watered down than I typically like, but that also makes it easier to drink so I throw back half of it. Eric is sitting at the table talking to a few guys I think I remember seeing in tonight’s rodeo events. He looks up when I sit down and holds my stare for a few seconds and like clockwork, my stomach flips over and I feel my cheeks flush.

It’s comforting and discomforting all at the same time. At least I’m not broken, but I’m surrounded by dozens of attractive men who are polite and can dance and are way too good looking for me to not be enthralled by them. But no, the man in the corner who probably wishes I weren’t here at all is the one man who causes my heart to skip a beat.

Probably a good thing, though. I don’t want to get distracted while I’m here. I don’t need a fling, for one. And I’m not interested in him, for another. Not at all. No interest on my part. None. I mean, maybe a smidge…very little. Just enough to prove I still have a heart, but also just enough to stomp out, really.

I throw back the rest of my drink when I feel someone new coming up behind me, and another guy asks me to dance. I think his name is Adam, but the music is starting to get louder as the night goes on.

Before I know it, I’m about half a dozen dances in, and my only reprieve is when I get to sneak back to my table for a second to grab a drink. I don’t know if Pendleton is a light whiskey or what, but it’s the smoothest, most refreshing whiskey I’ve had…and “refreshing” is not normally an adjective you’d attribute to the stuff. And it must not be very strong, because every time I come back to the table a new, filled up glass is sitting there for me and I down most of it. I’ve had a drink almost after every dance, but I don’t feel anything.

If it weren’t for Eric dutifully sitting at the table all night, I normally wouldn’t trust leaving a beverage unoccupied at the table like that, but I know Eric wouldn’t miss a beat if anyone tried to tamper with my drink…and the people here don’t really seem like that type anyways.

As I finish up a particularly quick song with a man whose name I can’t remember, I feel a hand land on my hip. It’s the most presumptuous touch of the night—if you don’t count the times Eric practically lifted me out of the way of harm back at the rodeo—and I’m not surprised in the least to turn around and find Jed to be the owner of that hand.

“Glad to see you here, sweetheart, can I have the next dance?”

“Sure.” I can’t think of a nice way to decline, but Jed is the first person I haven’t really wanted to dance with all night.

He scoops me up a little too close for comfort and sweeps me away before I can even thank my last partner for the dance. Jed moves smoothly enough, but his eyes swivel around the room as we spin around, and I can tell by the way he whips his head around he’s taking inventory of who all is watching us. Curious to see what he’s seeing, I do the look out as well. The same herd of girls I saw back at the rodeo swooning over him are all there, diligently watching him again.

“Having a good time tonight?” He finally breaks the silence, looking at me instead of the audience he’s accumulating.

“It’s been great,” I say simply.

“Ever been two-stepping before?”

“Nope, this is the first.”

“You’re pretty good at it,” he says with a wink. It’s not nearly as endearing as Dean’s. “Did I hear Randall say you’re from California?”

“Yep, I’m just visiting for the summer.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I hope to see you at more rodeos.” He looks around my shoulder and I see a determination set in his eyes. He lifts his hands up to his hat as he says, “Shame about your hat, though,” then as he starts to pull his own hat off his head he adds, “You can wear mine, if you want—” But before he can transfer his hat to my head, two sets of hands land on my waist and spin me around, and I find myself face-to-face with a stern-looking Eric.

“I’ll take her from here.” He’s looking at Jed as he says it, but his hands never leave my hips. My heart is beating about a million miles a minute. I don’t bother looking behind me to see Jed’s reaction as Eric pulls me close, setting us up in the right position to start dancing. Before he does, the song changes to a slower song, and I’m thankful for the kind of rhythm that will allow me to catch my breath for a second.

His hands keep a firm grip on me, guiding me where I need to go as we slowly start to move to the music. I don’t dare say a word. I don’t even know what I would say. Thank you, for one. But I can’t even manage that. I’m too distracted by the way he smells like leather and whiskey, and that his frame is so big I feel like I have to be this close to him because by comparison my arms seem petite. No, I can’t get any words out because I’m too busy noticing how firm he is—not just the lines of his face, but his muscles earned from years of manual labor are bunched and coiled tight as he moves us around the dance floor. He looks pissed, and that alone just keeps me silent. It’s different from his usual grumpy face. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s a face I’m not familiar with. Not that I’m familiar with all of Eric’s faces. I’ve only known the man for a little while. That would be silly.

But the thing that takes my coherent speech away the most is the way we glide along the dance floor. I don’t know why I’m surprised. The way he moves on a horse should have been all the indication I needed that he’d be one hell of a dancer. But here I am, ogling at the fact that he is, by far, the best dance partner I’ve had all night. I feel safe in his arms, like there’s no chance at all he’ll steer me wrong.

I finally pull my thoughts together about halfway through the song when I see his face relax marginally and muster the courage to mumble out a few simple words. “Thank you, for that. Back there, I mean.”

He looks down at me and for the first time, the last of the firm lines of his face melt away. “I’m sorry if you wanted to…you know…wear his hat.” He looks almost sheepish as he says it. Like he’s afraid of what I’ll say but isn’t truly sorry in the least for butting in.

“Oh, no. No, I was warned of that little gesture. That’s why I bought my own damn hat. Not that it did me any good.”

“You know about that?” His eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise.

“It’s a movie cliché, but Penny confirmed it for me.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re learning something out here.”

“I’m learning a lot, thank you very much,” I say in mock offense. And he laughs. Like actually , out loud laughs. And with that laugh I notice the whiskey scent gets stronger. Whatever whiskey he’s drinking must be stronger than mine. And if his laughing is any indicator, it might be starting to affect him a little bit. Sober Eric doesn’t seem to be this…jolly.

“Did you like the rodeo?” The sincerity in his eyes is such a stark contrast to the flat stare he usually sends in my direction.

“Very much so.” And since he seems to be in such a good mood I dabble in elaborating. “I didn’t realize Saddle Bronc was so… agile. I don’t know how you stay on a horse when it’s kicking like that.”

“I don’t always stay on.” His eyes go distant for a moment before clearing up again. “But it’s fun. Nothing is better than hearing that buzzer after an eight-second ring-around-the-rosy.”

“I can imagine. Christine says you train horses, too?”

“Yeah, I do most of the training around the ranch, and then some people bring me their particularly troubled horses as well.”

“Did you train Roper?”

“First colt I ever broke.”

“Broke? The same Roper you use? He seemed fine though, what happened—”

Eric throws his head back laughing again, so loudly—in fact—that he turns the heads of everyone around us. “Red, you got a lot to learn out here. But I’ll help you out. ‘Breaking a horse’ is another way to say I’m training it for a rider. Horses are wild animals, they don’t naturally want humans to ride them, so we have to break them of their fear and teach them to accept a saddle.”

I feel the blush creeping up my neck all the way to the top of my ears. Not just from being so wrong, but at the fact that this is the first time he’s offered to help me in any way. “Oh” is all I manage to squeak out, but I feel one of his hands at my chin, pulling my gaze up to meet his own.

“It’s okay, Red, you can’t expect to know everything.”

“Well, I should have at least known that,” I admit softly, unable to stop the goosebumps erupting on my arms at the way his hand is still gingerly holding my chin to meet his gaze.

“You’ll learn.”

The song stops before I can reply, thankfully, and Eric leads me back to the table. Dean is there talking to a mix of people, but I don’t recognize any of them.

“I never thought I’d see you on the dance floor, but Eric…you dance like shit.”

Eric punches him in the shoulder and takes up his previous seat, but there’s a smirk on his face that has my stomach doing backflips. His movements seem a little sloppier than while we were dancing, and I think the whiskey on his breath might have something to do with it. But Dean’s comment catches me off guard. He doesn’t usually dance? Really? Before I can think too much about it, Dean directs his attention over to me.

“I have to give you credit, darlin’, I’ve made sure you had a steady flow of drinks all night and you’re not even the slightest bit affected. What are you made of?”

“The better question is what is that whiskey made of? I thought you cowboys would be drinking something a little stronger.”

“Are you calling the greatest whiskey in these fifty states weak ? I don’t know if we can get past this, SoCal.”

I’m about to poke at him again when movement catches my attention just past Dean’s shoulder. Before I can fully comprehend what I’m seeing, Eric makes a slurred scan around the room—completely missing the fact that I’m looking right at him—takes my drink, throws back over half of it in one gulp, and then proceeds to fill it back to the top with the water Dean has also been providing me all night. The ratio of water to whiskey is comical, and explains the fact that he’s starting to sway a bit while I’m stone-cold sober. And if the whiskey is as strong as Dean has been implying, that means that Eric is a few more of “my” drinks away from slipping under the table.

That chivalrous asshole has been drinking my whiskey all night. And it’s fucking adorable.

I mean, sure, it’s slightly insulting that he doesn’t think I can handle it myself. But he’s letting me think I’m an actual bottomless pit while I guarantee he’s going to have a headache tomorrow.

But am I going to stop him? Oh, hell no.

This just got interesting.