Rider’s Block

29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter twenty-nine

"Meant to Be," Bebe Rexha + Florida Georgia Line

“ Y ou sure you’re ready?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing else you want to do?”

“Nope, anything else will be over-editing.”

“You’re ready to press send? Right now?”

“Right now, right now.”

“Want me to do it?”

“Please? I kind of want to throw up.” The look on Eric's face let's me know he's going to wait until I'm a bit more confident before hitting send. Which is fair. I can't do it right now. I stand up and pace a bit more, trying to burn off steam.

After two straight weeks of time spent side-by-side at the computer, a week waiting for my editor’s feedback and then applying what she changed…it’s time.

How the hell is it time? What am I going to do if I STILL get denied? Cry. A lot. That’s what I’ll do. Because if it gets denied at this point, maybe it’s time to hang up my hat. Even though I’ve hit my financial goals, there are things I still wanted as an author. I think it’d be kind of cool to end up on the big screen, sure. I think it’d be pretty awesome to hit a million copies for one book. I think it’d be pretty cool to switch genres and have my fan base switch with me. But if this one doesn’t land, I’m not sure I have much more in me.

Eric stops my hand as it mindlessly goes to itch the spot right above my cast that’s been driving me crazy recently. He’s been a saint helping me through this diligently for weeks. I don’t want to ask what time or tasks he’s had to trade to be at my side whenever I’ve needed him. He somehow knows whenever I’m about to break down and ask for help, and he’s there offering it without prompting.

The typing is the most apparent thing I’m not able to do with one hand, but there are little things, too. I’ve noticed that every time I mentally prepare myself to open a peanut butter lid, it’s already halfway off and only loosely needs some work. The picture of him running around my little kitchenette, halfway unscrewing all of the jars I have so I don’t “technically” have to ask for help has me smiling for three whole days.

But I leave in a week.

The reality of it sinks in as I stare at the email Eric helped me type up to my agent, Sarah.

The whole reason I’m here is sitting in that attached file. Regardless of what the publishers say, my job here is complete. I did it.

Eric reaches down to squeeze my leg as he asks, “Want the honors? Or would you like me to press send?”

“Can you do it?”

Eric has talked to my people a few times here and there and made fast friends with my crew, so he wastes no time in hitting the send button before I can second-guess myself and is pulling me out of my chair to spin me around in a hug, chanting, “You did it! You did it! You did it!” So many times I threaten to lose the muffin he brought me early that morning. “We’re going to celebrate, alright, Red?”

“What do you have in mind?”

With a wink and a dip of his hat he heads toward the front door saying, “You’ll see. Come on, let’s go see Penny.”

We spend the whole ride going over every possibility of what could happen for my book. From the absolute absurd, amazing wild cards all the way down to the most logical negative options, and something about talking through all of the possibilities puts my mind at ease. By the time we make it to Penny’s shop, I’m ready to celebrate right along with him. After looking at a few things himself, Eric leaves me to talk with Penny at the front register while he runs a few errands of his own.

“And you have no idea what you’re doing to celebrate?” Penny asks, leaning almost completely over the counter so she doesn’t have to talk too loudly.

“Not a clue, do you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Damn, I really was hoping you’d know since he insisted we come here first.”

“Well, I’m glad you came by. You did it! It’s done and submitted. How do you feel?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. On one hand I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders, but on the other hand I just need to know if it gets picked up before I can fully relax. I don’t know. I’m relieved and uneasy. It’s a weird place to be in.”

“Doesn’t help that you’re leaving us next week. That’s got me in a funk, I’ll admit it.”

“Don’t say that! I already feel weird about it.”

“All I’m saying is that you know you have a home here whenever you decide to quit being stubborn and accept it.”

“Well, pot, speaking of stubborn, have you gone on a date with Dean yet?” Dean decided he was done playing it cool and announced to Eric and me the other week at my cottage that he’s just going to go for it. It’s direct, and I love it. I told him he had my full support, and Eric just grunted and clapped his back in a maneuver that I translated to be approval without words. He keeps me updated, so I know the answer, but even though she hasn’t said yes yet his spirits are only increasing with each conversation he has with her. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. Aside from the sweet things Eric does for me that I’m stuffing away into a different part of my mind to deal with later.

“No, kettle.”

“The man has asked you on a date, what, like five times this week?”

“Seven.”

“So, once every day?”

“Yes.”

“And you kept track?”

“Not hard to keep track of when it’s every day.”

“So, are you ready to quit being stubborn yet and just put the poor guy out of his misery and marry him yet?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! That’s a little forward thinking of you, don’t you think?”

“So is moving and uprooting my whole life just because a guy is being nice to me.”

“Mia. You can’t be so blind. He’s not just being nice to you.”

“He’s had plenty of time to be blunt and act on it, and he’s not. I can’t stay for hints.”

Penny thinks to herself for a second before asking, “That’s not entirely wrong.”

“And if I’m being honest, Dean has been blunt, and you still haven’t taken him up on it. So, yeah, pot, you know I’m right.”

“If I go out with Dean, will you stay?”

“That’s not even related, and you know it.”

“It’s closely related.”

“The answer to that is no, but I do want you to finally say yes to Dean.”

“I think I might.” Penny’s cheeks immediately blush, and I don’t have enough control over myself to hold in the squeal that involuntarily erupts from my lips. She rolls her eyes and tells me to hush it. “If you make too big of a deal about it, I’ll have to reconsider.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I might.”

“When are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know, maybe the next time he asks?”

“Has he asked today already?”

“Nope.”

“Are you coming to dinner at the ranch tonight?”

“I don’t think there is dinner at the ranch tonight.”

“What? Since when?”

“Since Nancy texted me that we’re doing a big celebration for you tomorrow as a congrats for your book instead.”

“Huh, guess I missed that text…” I say, pulling out my phone. I look up for a second to see Penny’s smile increase.

“Sounds like Eric wants you all to himself tonight.”

***

Eric returns to Penny’s shop thirty minutes later with a few paper bags filled with mysterious items he won’t let me look at. I ask repeatedly what his plans are for the evening. And he tells me repeatedly that’s for him to know and for me to find out.

He drops me off at my little cottage and tells me to dress for the outdoors. I throw on my red boots, stiff Levi’s Penny says make my butt look good, and a breezy top. I try on four different tops. It takes a lot of brain power for me to decide on something that says “this isn’t a date” while also wanting to look nice because it kind of sort of feels like a date. Not a real date, my mind tries to assure me. Just two people hanging out after working long hours together to accomplish a joint goal.

Plus, my cast kind of made everything look stupid.

I won’t get it off until a while back in California. I’ve already had the Fort Collins doctors send over all of my information to my doctors back home. So, I’m stuck with this thing for a while longer. I try not to think about how it’s going to feel to look down on Eric’s signature while he’s not there, but that’s a problem for future Amelia.

Current Amelia is just marginally thankful that the cast and my favorite boots match.

I’m snacking on a few cubes of cheese when I hear Eric’s knock at my front door. It’s become so familiar over the last few weeks that I could recognize it anywhere. He knocks the same way every time, and for whatever stupid reason, his knock is what finally sets the reality of knowing I’m leaving here off.

Shoving those feelings aside, I head to open the door to a sight that causes my heart to skip a few beats. I’m glad I opted for the slightly “nicer” shirt, because standing in front of me is the Eric that will now forever be etched in my brain.

He’s got on his nice hat—not his usual working hat—a deep navy-blue button-down and stiff Levi’s of his own that are a constant in his wardrobe. He’s brought me a lot of flowers over the past few weeks, but never a full bouquet like the one in his hand. Simple white peonies paired with lush greenery and a few carnation stems are extended in my direction.

“You did it, babe. Book complete. Now do you want to take these with us or put them in water?”

I’m momentarily stunned by the casual way he makes me feel like the most accomplished person in the whole wide world, and something about the way he says “babe” just feels a little different tonight.

“Can we take them with us? What are we doing?”

“Yeah, let’s take them, I think you’ll wish you had ’em if we leave ’em behind. Now come on, Red. Let’s get going.” Then looking down at my shoes I hear him whisper under his breath, “Perfect.”

He drives us over to the stables where I see Roper outside of his pen, fully saddled up. “Eric, what are we doing?”

“I can’t let you leave here without getting back on a horse, but I promise you I’ll be right there the whole time.”

“Are you riding with me?”

“Of course.”

“On the same saddle?”

“I think I’ll have a heart attack if I see another horse race off with you by yourself, so yes. Plus, you still have your cast, so you’re stuck with me, babe.” I roll my eyes before opening the door and hopping out. This is dangerous. I barely survived the first time we shared a saddle, and that was when we weren’t on talking terms. Now that we spend so much time together? And I’m actively convincing myself I’m not in love with the man? These are shark-infested waters.

Roper accepts the pats to the nose I offer while I promise him not to try and make a two-person ride too uncomfortable for him. But he doesn’t seem to mind whatsoever when both of us climb up into the saddle. Well, Eric climbs up into the saddle. I’m placed in the saddle by two very strong hands that felt right at home claiming my hips as he lifted me to where I needed to be situated.

Eric easily guides the three of us out past the pen and into the wide-open spaces of the pasture. We don’t talk much, but that’s largely because the way our bodies are touching is causing both of us to periodically catch our breaths. Just like last time, I sink into using him for support, and it feels too right. And just like last time, he rests his arms on my legs when he’s not actively steering Roper around sets of trees.

Torture.

Pure, perfect, absolutely divine torture that I’ll think about in years to come as arguably one of the most physical, romantic moments of my life. You could cut the tension with a knife, but it feels like Eric has no plans of doing so. Sure, when he leans down to tell me something, his breath is at the shell of my ear in a way that gives me immediate goosebumps. And I swear I feel the ghost of a kiss at the crown of my head at one point. But that’s it. Nothing else.

By the time we reach our destination I’m all riled up, and the sun is clearly about an hour away from setting. We’ve only ridden for about fifteen minutes, so it can’t be too far away from the main house, but it could be four hours away for how secluded we feel.

Eric steers Roper over to a nearby tree, then he leans over, and I swear he’s intentionally talking so that his breath hits my ear. “I’m going to tie him up this time, so he doesn’t run on us. We’re not that far from the house, but I don’t want to risk him getting barn sour again.” He gets off the saddle, and I start to maneuver my way down, but he beats me to it. Those hands reach for me again in a way that feels like he’s been doing it for years. And who am I to complain? I’ve had impeccable self-control for weeks around this man who is every woman’s dream. If I want to enjoy the way his hands dwarf my hip bones, then I’m going to enjoy the way this man’s hands dwarf my hip bones.

My eyes are a little glazed over when he looks at me with that bit of smug confidence I’ve grown accustomed to. “It’s almost sunset, and this is one of the best viewing spots on the property. Want to help me set up?” I nod and he grabs a picnic blanket and a few containers of food out of Roper’s saddlebag.

It’s a picnic! An honest to God picnic. Checkered blanket and everything. Checkered blanket with the tag still on it, if I’m not mistaken. No one’s set up a picnic for me before. The pep in my step setting everything up gives away my level of excitement, but I just really don’t care right now.

As I’m straightening out the corners of the blanket, I look to see Eric grabbing some firewood from the base of the tree and arranging it in the little pit he created. I’m trying to snoop a few of the containers to see what kind of meal is ahead of us when he plops down next to me, flowers in hand.

“Thought you’d appreciate these with the ambiance.”

“You thought correctly, now set them over there so I can take a picture.”

I take an embarrassing amount of overhead shots, managing to sneak the tips of my boots in a few before Eric tugs at my shirt to get me to sit down. I’m trying to gracefully tumble in the position he tugged me to when he points at the sky, and I get it.

Sunsets over the ocean are always stunning. The vastness of the never-ending sea paired with the variety of painted clouds is something that takes my breath away every single time. I’ve always loved sunsets. Many times, I’ll even time my runs around them so that I can stop and appreciate them on a break. The town that I’m from treats the sunset as a spiritual moment. You can catch groups of people clapping when the sun itself finally dips below the horizon.

But I have yet to truly appreciate a sunset across the vast Colorado plains. Maybe it’s because I’m usually at dinner when the sun is going down, or maybe it’s because I’ve taken this landscape for granted. Or maybe the one time I looked at a sunset here I was subsequently thrown off a horse. But tonight, I’m hit with a wave of true remorse that I haven’t given this setting the reverence it’s due.

The grass is at a respectable, yet wavy height from all the livestock grazing the area, but in the golden glow of the setting sun every movement from the breeze is highlighted. Even though California is called the Golden State, there’s no way it rivals the type of gold that settles in each blade of grass as the sun gets closer to the horizon. Colorado's golden sunsets are unreal. Otherworldly. The crickets punctuate the beauty with a chorus of background music that melds into what I’m looking at seamlessly. The whole thing leaves me a little lost for words.

“Why is this the first real sunset I’m seeing here?”

“We’ve been busy. It’s okay. But you can see why this is my favorite view. I want to build a house here.”

“You wouldn’t move into the main house?”

“Well actually, I talked to Dean about it, and we think it suits him best.”

“He’s staying here?”

“Yep, we’ve got it all worked out. He’s really stepped up the past few months, and I can tell he wants it. I never wanted to force it on him, but now that I know he wants it I’m more than happy to share the load.”

“Huh. What a guy. Little Dean is growing up.”

“I think he’s older than you are, Red.”

“He just has little brother energy. I don’t care if he’s technically older than me.” That earns a real laugh out of Eric. He’s given me a lot of those lately. I still treasure them, but I pride myself on being able to get more out of him. “So, what have we got here?”

Eric explains the different assortment of food he’s got for us, and I can’t believe how much effort he’s put into the whole thing. He remembered which casseroles were my favorite and brought them, along with a few of the treats I mentioned to him being particularly fond of that he’d bring me in the mornings. We settle into nibbling on our favorites and talking a little bit about everything as the sun fully sinks under the horizon.

“Now for the main event,” Eric says as the first of the stars start to make an appearance. “You’ve seen the stars from the cottage, but nothing compares to how they look out here.”

“Why’s that?”

“Out here they’re completely undisturbed. No light pollution for miles. We would have seen some gorgeous skies when we fixed that fence had it not been for the rain. I couldn’t let you leave here without seeing a true Colorado night’s sky.”

“How often do you come out here to look at them?” I have visions of him doing this exact excursion with a slew of girls hanging on his every word. The thought leaves a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I try not to think about it too long.

Eric must read my facial expression like an open book because he perfectly answers, the saint, “You’re the first one I’ve ever brought out here. This is my safe space. It’s usually just me and Roper.”

“Well, thank you for introducing me to it. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

He nods his thanks with a smile that has me a little nervous. “You know much about constellations?”

“A little. I liked stars in school, so I know the basics, why?”

“Look up,” he says as he points straight above us. “That’s the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper, those are your basics. Everyone says to use those to help find the rest, but the easiest constellation for me to find is the Hunter.”

“How come?”

“See those three stars in a perfect line?” he says, pointing directly above me. “That’s Orion’s belt.”

Immediately I spot three stars in a perfectly straight line. In the sea of speckled random placement, those three stars seem like they have the most intentional, symmetrical placement out of all of them.

“Those three perfectly aligned stars make up the belt for the Hunter. I don’t know why no one else uses them as their guiding point, but I can find them every single time, without fail. When stars align perfectly like that, it’d be dumb not to take notice.”

I put a lot of effort into not reading into that statement. Nearly two months ago I told Dean that the stars couldn’t align in a way that makes sense for Eric and me to end up together, but the way he’s looking at me right now, full of hope, I wonder if he’s been waiting for this exact moment to throw that comment right into my face.

“They really do stand out,” I admit.

“That’s why they’re my favorite.” And then looking at me, he goes for it. “Listen, Red. I know you’re going to leave. And I’m going to let you. Not because I want to, but because it’s what I think you need. But I need you to know I’m not going anywhere. We may not be in the same state, but you’re not going to be able to get rid of me that easy. Do you understand?”

“Not really…” I admit. “I don’t know how you can—”

“Nope. You’re mine. Once I got over that stubborn streak, and I realized what an ass I’d been, I knew I couldn’t let go of you. I can let you build your life, I can let you do what you need to do to be successful, but I can’t let you do it without you knowing full well that I intend to keep what’s mine.”

“I don’t…I don’t know what to say—”

He holds up a finger to my lips to stop my protest from going any further.

“You don’t have to say anything. You just have to accept that I’m not going anywhere. I talked to your agent and gave her my rodeo schedule for the next few months so that she can coordinate any book events with my locations. She said I was jumping the gun a little bit, but I told her it wouldn’t hurt to have you tour your previous books while this next one goes through the publishing process. We can make this work, Red. I know it.”

I’m momentarily stunned at the initiative he’s taken in all of this. Before I can protest any further, he grabs my hand, swiping his thumb along the back. “Just let me prove this to you, alright? You don’t have to let go of you to be mine . I want you to be your firecracker self. I want to show you off. I want to try.”

“What about the NFR?”

“I want you there.”

“I won’t be a distraction?”

“You’re my motivation, Red. It’d be more distracting if you weren’t there.”

“And after that?”

“We’ll cross that road when we get there. But there’s one more thing I need to do before I let you leave.”

“What’s that?”

He closes the space between us, settling his hand in my hair, pulling me closer. My heart starts beating a million times a minute. Hummingbird wings couldn’t catch up with me.

Eric’s lips land on mine with a gentle, quizzical kiss asking if I’m okay with more. It’s everything I’ve been waiting for these past three months, and with my reciprocating kiss he shows me with his actions that he means every word he just said.

The way Eric kisses claims me.

He pulls me into his lap as he deepens the kiss and places those hands right back on my hips, where they belong. “I’ve waited so long for this, Red,” he says as he peppers kisses down my neck along my collar bone. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get there, but now that I’m here I hope you understand there’s no way of getting rid of me.”

His hands work their way up my back and into my hair, and it removes all ability for response, so I reciprocate with kisses of my own down his throat and his groan lets me know just how he feels about it.

I’ve had my fair share of boyfriends and awkward bar dates, but I’ve never, ever, been kissed the way Eric Randall kisses me. It’s as if his very life depends on it, as if connection with my lips gives him oxygen. And somehow, I feel the same way. And I’ve never felt this way. I’ve never wanted to need anyone, but I’m getting dangerously close to needing this human whose lap I still find myself sitting on.

I need this so much I forget to breathe, and when the lack of oxygen finally works its way as a warning to my brain I pull back ever so slightly, which has Eric pulling back just a little as well. Just far enough to talk without our lips actually touching, but it already feels too far.

“I want to do this right, baby. So as much as I want to prove to you how much I’m all in on this, tonight I just want to hold you. Alright? Will you let me hold you?” I’ve barely gotten a slight nod out when he maneuvers me down to where I’m lying fully wrapped up in one of his hugs with my head in the crook of his arm. “Just to be clear on expectations, I’m not going to risk any surprise pregnancies until you know that any kid we have is understood to be every blessing it’s meant to be, do you understand what I mean?”

There’s a glisten in my eyes as I comprehend what he’s saying perfectly. “That’s some pretty forward talk there, Eric…” I trail off as I feel his chest go up and down in what I know to be one of his silent laughs.

“I’ve told you, I’m all in. I’m just waiting for you to get on the same page.”

“I just—”

He holds his hand up to my lips again, effectively cutting me off. “I know, I want you to go back. I want you to understand the weight of what I’m saying and choose me as much as I choose you. I get it. Take your time, Red. I’ll be right here.”

And as much as my head wants me to fight this, to remind myself that people can leave at the drop of a hat, that committing can sometimes be a one-way street…my heart believes him. And my head doesn’t know how to reconcile that.