Rider’s Block

12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter twelve

“I Remember Everything,” Kacey Musgraves

“ H ow do you know if I can play pool? I could suck and get no questions answered out of the situation.”

“Because you’ve got too much moxie to be bad at a game that could come up in casual situations.”

“Moxie? Who says moxie anymore?”

“Me. Now come on, Red, let’s set this up.”

Eric gets everything aligned while I grab my pool stick and chalk the end. He’s right. I do know how to play pool simply because I don’t like being bad at things that could come up in hangout settings. As cute as the “I don’t know how to play, show me how to hold the stick” scenes are in the movies, I just couldn’t stand the idea of losing, so I taught myself.

He lets me take the opening shot, and I land two solids in their respective holes, only knocking one striped one in. “All right, I get two questions, you get one…you want to start or me?”

“I’ll start. Have you been in a California earthquake before?”

“One big one and several small ones. The big one was scary, but nothing happened. And the only reason I know small ones happen is because my perfect, angel cat Chester only pees in the house when he feels an earthquake.”

Eric stands up from the shot he was leaning over to take, trying to muffle a laugh. “So you’re saying you have a cat that just stops what he’s doing and pees on the spot as a minor earthquake indicator?” His laugh is infectious, and I find myself easily joining him.

“Well, I hadn’t thought of it like that, but yes…yes, I do. Comes in handy, I guess.”

He takes his shot and lands another easily. “Looks like I get another question, but you want to ask yours first?”

“Probably should. Alright, why history?”

He pauses for a second, taking his time to answer. “It was always my favorite class growing up. I knew from day one that I’d take over the ranch, so a degree in ranch management is helpful, but my dad taught me all that I wanted to know, so I thought it’d be fun to pick something different as my degree while I rodeoed in college.”

“Where did you go to college?”

“University of Wyoming. They have the best program around, and the head coach was one of the greatest men you’d meet on the planet. We lost him a few years ago and it really rocked the community.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, that’s never easy.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely with a far-off look like he’s still thinking about it. “Alright, my turn. Always want to be an author?”

“You’re going to have to get more creative than that, Randall. Not to sound conceited, but you can google that answer. Almost any interview I do starts with that question.”

“Well, Red, you could google where I went to school too, but you don’t see me throwing that in your face now, do you?” His eyebrow cocks up in a challenge and my responding smirk is entirely involuntary. And he’s right, I forget that he’s basically rodeo royalty and I should have looked up the whole family before coming here, and that becomes more obvious with each day that I’m here, so I give in.

“Fair enough, looks like research is enemy number one for me these days, but alas…I digress. To answer your question, no, I didn’t always want to be a writer. I wanted to be everything. A flower shop owner, a librarian, a wedding planner, a National Geographic photographer, an equestrian, kindergarten teacher, pediatrician, lawyer… first woman president. I couldn’t make up my mind, so I went down the public relations and marketing route in college because if I couldn’t be everything I wanted to be, I could at least work with them as clients. That was my naive theory. Then after only a semester of interning, I got sucked into the commercialism of the whole thing and at the end of the day just felt sort of…icky. That part’s not on Google, to be fair. I didn’t want to insult anyone in the job. But some stuff happened, and I just realized I was in a rat race I didn’t want to be in anymore. Now I’m just rambling… and pacing again.”

I catch my breath when I realize I’ve gone back and forth along the table approximately five times during my monologue. I look up at Eric, expecting him to have his usual scowl, but to my surprise his eyes are locked on mine, and he seems fully intent on hearing my answers.

“What else isn’t on Google?” Eric asks casually, sidestepping my rambling and encouraging me to continue.

“You’re going to have to earn that, and we’re tied, so you’re up.”

His smirk is distracting as he moves around the table, lines up his shot, and sinks two more. “Alright, now what else isn’t on Google? And then I get another question.”

“Touché. Okay, this is something I don’t admit often because I’m afraid it will get me canceled for not supporting other authors, but the reason I finally started typing out my first book is because I read another book that really pissed me off.”

“Intriguing, please continue. And I’ll use that as my second question.”

I move around the table, passing him and noticing his unfortunately perfect scent of worn leather and a hint of a suggestion that he uses good shampoo. Actively working hard to not let that distract me, I move to my spot, line up my angles, and sink only one this time. I try not to let the frustration be obvious on my face, but by the spark in his eyes I can tell I’m not doing so well of a job there. Shoving down my competitive nature I continue.

“So, during my deep dive into reading books as emotional distractions, I came across a book that everyone raved about. I mean everyone. Like all the book bloggers I follow, all of the bookstores have it front and center as a bestseller…I mean everyone raves about this book. Because e-readers are cheaper and I would have gone bankrupt to buy paperbacks of everything I read, I was selective of buying physical copies. I passed this particular book on a shelf and thought that if everyone loved it so much, I’d be safe buying and it’d be a great read.”

“Wasn’t a great read, I take it?”

“No! It was horrible!” I still get irrationally mad thinking about it. “And I know it isn’t the end of the world that I wasted the money, and really it wasn’t the money. It was the time I spent on it and the fact that everyone loved it so much. I felt like if everyone thinks this is a good love story, then I’m genuinely scared for the world.”

“Why was it so bad?” His smirk has morphed into a full-blown smile at this point, but I ignore it and carry on.

“Because! The man confesses his love for his childhood-best-friend-turned-lover and then not an hour later ‘accidentally’ drunkenly sleeps with another girl that’s been a background concern the whole book. I couldn’t believe what I was reading by the last five chapters. You just can’t be in love with someone and then sleep with someone else. I mean to be fair, I read the commentary of the book afterwards and apparently the authors were trying to show the pain of a reverse rape situation, but to me that just didn’t come across and the whole thing put me in a funk for days. People who love each other just don’t put themselves in situations like that if they can help it. Like maybe don’t get blackout drunk with a girl that makes your girlfriend uncomfortable? I don’t know, it just really pissed me off and two weeks later I had my first draft of a book done and have never looked back. I’m rambling again, sorry.”

Eric laughs before lining up a shot right next to where I’m standing. I was so lost in my monologue I didn’t realize he’d inched his way closer to me. Or did I subconsciously move closer to him? I’ll blame him. With how much I talk with my hands I’m surprised I didn’t poke his eye out. He straightens up next to me and I get a firm perspective on how tall the man is. “No need to apologize, I think I know what book you’re talking about because Mom had a similar rant a few years back.”

“See! I’m not crazy, and there is hope for this world. Okay, my turn.” I take a small step back because the leather scent is starting to make me dizzy. “Do you like ranching?”

“I do.” I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

“Is that all I get? I just spent the last fifteen minutes recounting my evil author origin story and all I get for my response is two words?” Eric looks up from where he was analyzing the table with that genuine smile on his face. His scowl is a brooding sort of sexy that’s hard to look away from, but it pales in comparison to the smile that is now gracing his face. Genuine, engaged, a little mischievous. A lot of dangerous…unfortunately contagious.

“All right, Red, good point. I do like ranching. It’s um, well…it’s tangible. It’s always interesting, there’s always a new hurdle to overcome, but there’s a familiarity to the steady pace of life knowing that my role on this planet is to steward the lives of man and livestock around me. I wake up every morning not always knowing what’s going to happen, but knowing that whatever happens I get to look out on property that’s my family’s heritage under skies that seem to never end, and whatever happens I get to do for the good of everyone around me, even when it’s hard.”

“Well, that was better. Thank you. And rather poetic if I’m being honest, but I don’t want to flatter you too much or it will make your already large head even larger.”

“I have a big head?”

“Metaphorically speaking.”

“Well, literally speaking, I do have a big head.” He reaches up to grab his cowboy hat and places it on my own head for a split second, and the thing dwarfs me. I feel like a child. “See.” The hat is removed from my head and back on his own a breath later, but he hasn’t moved or made an effort to step back.

He’s right in front of me now, and Penny’s words are playing in the back of my head on repeat. I have now purchased THREE hats to prevent myself from being in this exact situation, but the look in Eric’s eyes makes me feel safe, like he has no expectations from me. Like even though he drunkenly said he’d give me his hat the other night, he doesn’t remember it. Like he might not even know the rule, even though he’s already saved me from the rule once. Eric looks playful, and it’s really hard not to be pulled into his orbit. Or fixate on the memory of his adorable drunken head in my lap for an entire drive home.

“It must be all of those history books, filled your brain to max capacity.” Eric’s laugh is easy and smooth and now it’s my personal mission this summer to hear that laugh as many times as he’ll allow it. “I get another question, why is Roper your favorite?”

“He’s the first horse I ever broke, and I think he knows it. We’ve grown up together and I swear that horse knows what I want even before I do. Even though he can be a pain in the ass.”

“How so?”

“First off, he’s a picky eater and only eats the expensive treats. And then there was this one time I was calf roping and he almost brought the house down with how much people were laughing at us. I had a good couple of runs and felt like I was going to have a record-breaking day, but the last calf of the day decided to improvise. You remember the event, right?”

I nod as I think back to the event. It was sort of my least favorite because I felt bad for the little guys, but Christine went into great detail letting me know that no one was hurt, this is the method they use to catch them to treat them and brand them and that it’s perfectly safe for everyone and it made me feel marginally better.

Eric reads my somber expression and softly continues. “After you rope the calf, you jump off your horse to tie the ankles, and your horse is supposed to hold the line slack, er I mean…tight. He’s supposed to keep the rope tight for you. I caught the little guy in a split second, but he was a spicy one. I knew I wasn’t winning the fast battle that time. Well, Roper apparently wanted to watch the show. Instead of holding my line slack, I’m in the middle of getting my ass kicked by a calf when I feel a puff of breath down my neck. My damn horse was looking over my shoulder with the most judgmental face I’ve ever seen on an animal, just enjoying the show.”

He’s laughing to himself as he’s telling the story and the laugh that comes out of my mouth is just north of the snort side of things, but I can picture the whole thing and wish I’d seen it myself.

I’m about to sink another shot when we feel the house start to rumble, and the loudest clap of thunder I’ve ever heard erupts…right as the lights go out.