Rider’s Block

35. Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter thirty-five

"Eyes On You," Chase Rice

W hile the guys do what they need to do to prepare for their events, Nancy takes the girls shopping. Penny is dying to see the main town strip and find a store comparable to hers, and Nancy will not rest until she has a refrigerator full of food. We all fuel up on our beverages of choice at the local coffee shop before heading down the strip, but we spend a good portion of the morning weaving in and out of niche stores that I could, admittedly, drop a lot of money in. I control myself, barely. It doesn’t help that Penny keeps purchasing things under the justification of “research.”

I see Christine buy a small baby item as subtly as she can. I do my best to distract Nancy while she’s at the register, but Nancy is too observant for that. She’s also too nice to call me out on it, so she plays along nicely while Christine thinks she’s getting away with it.

After picking up the necessary groceries we head back to the lake house to put together a quick lunch for the boys and bring it to them at the arena.

Like every other time I’m in a rodeo setting, it’s always amazing to me how much respect the Randall family is shown. I’m quick to notice Nancy does an impressively good job of using one of the three of us to engage in conversation with when someone she doesn’t want to talk to walks by. She’s a pro.

Trevor is the first to see us all walk up, and just like he normally does when he sees Christine, he drops whatever it was he was doing and comes to greet her. Dean, it seems, is cut of the same cloth and follows his lead to greet Penny.

I don’t see Eric, but trying not to seem like a clingy person I start to set lunch out for everyone. Five minutes pass, and he still doesn’t show up. I try not to overthink it. He’s probably doing something for his event later tonight. I know he’s busy, but I’ve got a pit in my stomach being in this setting without his steady presence here to guide me. I’ve gotten kind of used to letting him lead when I’m outside of my comfort zone. And it’s not like we’ve defined the relationship. I mean, he’s been pretty clear. I’m the one being difficult. But I don’t want to need him, and this feeling right now that I have, with him not here, it has me feeling off balance. And it’s scary.

I’m about to finally break down and ask if anyone knows where he is, when Eric comes walking around the corner, holding an ice pack to his knuckles.

My question is completely drowned out by the chorus of Randall family members demanding to know why he appears to have bruised up knuckles, and where the hell he’s been, and where the hell did he get the ice (Trevor, apparently, had been looking for ice all morning and no one could find any for him).

“Stop! Stop. I’ll explain, but I need to talk to Mia first.”

Six pairs of eyes land on me immediately. I don’t know what I have to do with this, but I follow him around the back of the trailer and out of sight from his family.

“I’m not proud…” Eric starts to say as he turns around to face me. “And it sort of could get me disqualified. But I’d do it again. I’d do it every damn day if it meant—”

“Eric. What on earth are you talking about? What did you do?’

“In my defense, he was being an asshole.”

I blink a few times, unsure what to say. “Eric, did you punch someone?”

“I’ve never liked Jed.” He looks like a five-year-old who got his favorite action figure taken away. It’s adorable and I want to hug him.

“And why did you punch Jed?”

“He um…well, he sort of said some stuff. About you.”

“About me?’

“It was a little crude, baby, I don’t know if I want you to—”

“If it was so bad that you felt the need to punch him…where exactly did you punch him?”

“In the face. Once. Broke his nose immediately so he went down without a fight. I’m embarrassed for him.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Is your hand okay?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“And when do we find out if you’re disqualified or not?’

“I should know in the next hour.”

“And can you please tell me what he said to make you risk disqualification?’

“He, um…damn, Red I’m sorry I went all caveman on him. He started talking about you and seeing you dance with me the other night, how he was surprised I stepped up to dance. Then he started talking about how I cockblocked him—” I raise my eyebrows. “His words, not mine. And then I sort of assured him there’s no world in which he’d get near you in that way, which only egged him on more. And then…” He trails off again. His insecurity in telling the story is half the fun of it for me right now. I’m not mad at all, I’m actually pretty flattered. He cares. Dammit. He cares a lot. “He sort of started going on and on about how bull riders are that much better in bed because, well, he thinks it’s obvious. And then he started getting a little graphic telling me what he’d do to you… and then I lost it. I know he was just doing it to get me to do exactly what I did and risk disqualification. That fucker’s not even in the same event as me. It was just out of spite. And I fell for it. I’m sorry if that freaks you out, I just couldn’t…I couldn’t let him talk about you like that—”

I cut him off with a kiss that I hope shows him exactly what I think about the whole situation. I’m flattered, I’m honored, but most of all I feel chosen. Defended. He risked what’s most important to him for me.

Pulling away, I sneak one more kiss to his cheek before saying, “Listen, this is probably a bad time to say this, but I’m done trying to convince myself you’re going to walk away. I’m ready to try. If the offer is still on the table—”

It’s his turn to cut off my sentence.

Eric picks me up to spin me around a few times before pressing me against the trailer and kissing me in a way that tells me the offer is still, most definitely, on the table. But because he knows my poor, overthinking brain needs the extra mile, he adds, “It’s about damn time.”

***

Eric rode one of the best rides of his career.

His score was the best of his season, without a doubt, and even the announcers went on and on about how flawless his ride this evening was.

I waited with Eric by the office to find out if he’d be disqualified, and luckily after hearing the story from several witnesses, it was universally agreed upon that he was in the right. After telling his family what happened, they also adamantly affirmed that they supported him entirely, and Trevor and Dean asked many questions about the altercation, in great detail, even though it was a single-punch situation. Apparently, there are still details to cover when your knuckles look the way Eric’s do.

Penny and Christine swoon a little when they hear the story, and Nancy couldn’t look more proud. I get it. I’d be proud of any son of mine who’d defend a lady’s honor like Eric did.

By the time the rodeo starts, I started to settle into the idea of giving this whole thing an honest try. Eric barely let go of my hand the whole time we were together, and the confidence sitting on his shoulders as we said goodbye is now my favorite way to think of him. That’s the cowboy I know and could very easily love.

But that’s way too soon to be thinking that way, right?

Right.

But what I can admit to loving right now is how opening myself up to trying with Eric means that I’m also opening myself up to getting to enjoy everyone’s company without bitterness hanging over my head. It’s fun. Every minute that I spend with the people around me is a minute I enjoy wholeheartedly.

Everyone is gathered around the firepit behind the lake house, enjoying a beer, when I finally let it sink in how much I’m opening myself up to trying things out with Eric. This dynamic, right here, is what I have to gain. It’s also what I have to lose, but if I concentrate on that, am I just causing self-inflicted pain?

Can I just concentrate on the good? I think I can.

To my left I hear an aggressive throat clearing, followed by a small chuckle. Eric, whose lap I’m currently sitting on, shifts us to face the source of the noise.

Trevor stands up from the bench he’s sharing with Christine and clears his throat aggressively again.

“Well, everyone, I think this is as good a time as any,” he says with the trademark Randall pride. “Christine and I—stand up, baby, come here.” He pulls her next to him and takes a deep breath. Then, as obvious as it gets, he places a hand on her belly, saying, “Christine and I are expecting—”

Everyone erupts.

Absolutely erupts.

Penny and I do a remarkable job of pretending like this is brand new information. Eric is the first one to wrap Trevor up in one of those “bro hugs” that ends in a back slap. I think I see George shed a small tear, and Dean is whooping and hollering, trying to get everyone a drink so we can toast to the new parents. We all already have a drink, so his effort is in vain, but he still tries to throw together a toast to show how excited we all are. We drink to that in unison before we hear another throat clearing next to us, this time coming from Christine.

“And one more thing,” she says as she looks up to Trevor. “We found out the gender.”

Out of nowhere, Trevor pulls out what looks to be a Roman candle–type contraption. Walking up to the fire, he lights the end of it and points the whole thing toward the lake.

Three balls of white light shoot out, when suddenly a series of blue lights erupt from the end of the stick.

“A BOY!” Eric bellows from next to me. He and Dean clink their beers while Penny and I run over to give Christine a hug and berate her for keeping this from us.

We all talk for another hour while the fire dies down. Everyone is so excited for baby Randall, and I finally let myself get excited, too.

***

The next morning in Montana I find myself standing side-by-side with Nancy cooking up a breakfast that could feed an entire army. As in, just enough for the Randall family. The stove is cooking like a dream, and we’ve given it a full test run using the griddle for pancakes, the oven for huckleberry banana bread (a recipe that the owners of the home have framed in the kitchen, so obviously we had to try it) and I’ve got two burners running making omelets. If I didn’t feel like I could fall asleep any moment, it’d be a dream. I have to pinch myself a couple of times to make sure I actually am awake, and it’s not a dream.

But I barely got any sleep last night. I was just starting to doze off when Eric pulled me right up into him and held on for the rest of the night. I tried not to move or disturb him in any way because he looked so peaceful sleeping next to me. And somehow that kept me up all night.

I still haven’t told him I signed my book, and I know he’s going to be (happily) pissed at me when he finds out how long I’ve kept it to myself, but that’s also in part because I added a little surprise for him that I sent over to my agent before leaving California, and I think the risk is worth it.

After yawning for the fourth consecutive time, Nancy reaches over to swat my arm. I notice she’s yawning too. “Quit it, it’s rubbing off on me and we don’t have time for that. What’s got you so tired, anyways?” She knows exactly what sleeping arrangement I’ve found myself in.

“You can thank your youngest.”

“I kind of think he did it on purpose.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him at this point.”

“That boy is so in love. I never thought I’d see the day. I mean, I never thought I’d see all three of my boys this happy. Makes this mamma happy, too.”

I smile at her, a true, content smile while I gather up my response. Fortunately, one isn’t necessary because it’s at that moment that the aforementioned boys all barge in the house with George fresh from the stable after taking care of the horses.

Dean and Trevor are close in conversation debating whether or not Dean should use his other lucky rope. Trevor seems appalled by the idea.

George and Eric are deep in another one of the serious conversations they tend to have, but they’re too far away for me to catch the tail end of it because all conversation cuts off at the scent of bacon.

It took Nancy and me almost two hours to make everything, but it took the Randall men all of ten minutes to practically clear every plate. Nancy had the forethought to save some food for Penny and Christine, who went to go fetch coffee for everyone, but if she hadn’t, that small plate would have been empty, too.

The finals are today, and there’s a different kind of anticipation around the table. Most of the time everyone seems nervous on rodeo days, but today everyone seems determined—grounded even. That confidence is still there and clearly visible, even from how far away we all sit in the arena.

There weren’t many spare moments away from rodeo prep while we’ve been at the lake, but Eric used every available free moment to cross off what we could from his list of things to do while we’re up here. He showed me a local burger drive-through that’s been run by the same family for years. He drove me over to a little stand that sold all things huckleberry flavored. We drove all the way over to a very specific store that sold very specific jerky that Eric salivates over for the point five seconds it takes us to get in the car and open up the package. It’s the toughest jerky I’ve ever encountered, but somehow that’s what makes it good. Eric finishes four pieces to my one, so it takes us only half of the ride back to the lake house to finish the purchase. I’ve gotten a lot more time with him than I anticipated, but today I know it’s all about mentally preparing for the finals.

Even though he seems unwaveringly confident, I still have that small pit of worry that bleeds into anticipation as we arrive at the event. When you look at its size, the Bigfork rodeo could be considered small. The entire arena is outdoors, the stands don’t seat that large of a crowd, but the intimate setting makes it all the better. The backdrop to the arena is one of the smaller ranges in the area, but it still makes what would be considered a simple setting rather magnificent. The announcers go out of their way to continually repeat that this rodeo is consistently voted the best rodeo in Montana, and I get it. It’s delightful.

Every event goes off smoothly. I get a kick out of watching the Barrel Racers with Penny. She leans with them when they go around the turns, and since she used to do the event herself she’ll periodically know one of the contestants and cheer them on vehemently.

Because of the intimate setting, the seats feel much closer to the events, making it feel like we’re right up in the action. The mutton bustin’ at this rodeo nearly sends us into another round of delirious giggle fits. The sheep here have no desire to move, and the kids are made of tough stock up here and have no desire to let go. It’s a winning comical combination, and the competition is that of strong will.

By the time we hit the team roping events the sun is starting to set, and the golden hour lights up the range in the backdrop. Dean and Trevor snag a time that brings the house down with applause. They win by half a second, barely. Just enough to claim first place, but close enough of a call to give us all heart palpitations. By the time Eric steps in the pen to start his ride my heart is already beating so fast I’m not entirely sure I’d be able to stand if I tried.

After watching Eric ride over time, I realize I hold my breath until the buzzer sounds. In the context of breathing, eight seconds seems like nothing. But watching Eric on a horse that wants him anywhere but on his back, those eight seconds feel like a lifetime. I probably hold my breath for eight seconds all the time without fully realizing it, but when the buzzer sounds on Eric’s flawless ride, it’s like I’ve held my breath for four minutes instead.

After I’ve squeezed Christine’s hands through three competitors’ rides, Eric walks away in first place, too. It’s a full house Randall sweep. It’s happened a handful of times, but it’s rare enough for all of us to make a rowdy mess of ourselves as we jump up and down and break more of a sweat than the competitors themselves.

It’s determined that we stay in and enjoy the house on the lake for one more night, so everyone splits up to get the necessary supplies to make the most of it: pizza, beer, and marshmallows. Eric and I are on marshmallow duty, and after running to the grocery store with Eric I learn he’s not a very disciplined shopper. Of all the things I expected from him, this was not it.

If he sees a food he likes, he grabs it. If he sees a magazine he thinks I’ll like, he grabs it. He saw flowers, he grabbed them. He saw a Snickers, he grabbed two. We came for marshmallows, he grabs two different sizes. And then he decides marshmallows aren’t enough and gets the ingredients for s’mores. But regular s’mores aren’t enough for Eric, apparently. He also grabs a variety of chocolates to make creative s’mores. We walk out with three different candy options (not counting his Snickers; he let me know those are just for us) and three bags of things I didn’t know we needed.

Apparently, the sight of Eric over-shopping is nothing new to Nancy because she takes the extra ingredients with open arms and we all find ourselves around the fire by the lake one last night.

“For now,” Nancy says with a look over at George. He has a rather indulgent look on his face that makes me think she’ll likely get her way. Even though the house isn’t for sale, Nancy will find a way. Of that, I have no doubt.

She and George spend the next two hours dredging up old stories about their beloved sons who did plenty of stupid shit when they were boys. My personal favorite is hearing about the time Eric got a new bike and was practicing circles around a stump Dean was standing on. Dean had just gotten his first rope, and Eric made for a tempting practice dummy. Everyone cheered as little Dean snagged poor, unsuspecting Eric around the neck on the first try and yanked him to the ground. Eric’s bellowing laugh beneath me (since I find myself sitting in his lap once again) is only broken by him pointing to the thinnest scar that is still around his neck from the rope burn.

After a detailed story is told about how Trevor ruined a bike and a front porch because of broken brakes, Eric squeezes my leg before leaning down next to my ear and asks, “Walk with me?”

He takes my hand before guiding us down a path that weaves in and out of trees by the lake. I’d never made my way down to the dock, but Eric walks us out to the edge, and we sit with our feet dangling above the water.

“The stars out here aren’t bad,” he says as he leans back on his hands, “but not nearly as good as our spot.”

I don’t miss the fact that he said “our” instead of “my,” but I don’t call him out on it. “You can still see Orion’s belt, though.” I point to the row of three stars all aligned.

“Did you look for them when you were in California?”

“Yep, they’re clear as can be there, too. I don’t know why I’ve never noticed them before.”

“Well, I’m glad you see them now.” He’s silent for a moment, looking up at his favorite constellation before saying, “So you go back tomorrow, and I’ve been thinking I should come out to see you. I want to try that sandwich. And meet Chester. Think you’d mind if I make it out there?”

I try not to let my excitement be too obvious. This is the first time he’s mentioned it. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

“Done. I’ll look at the circuit schedule and see what works best. You think you can come out to any more?”

“I’m sure I’ll find one. But actually, I have some news…” I taper off; now’s as good a time as any. “I finally heard back from Sarah—”

Eric straightens up immediately and shifts to face me fully. “And?”

“The book went into a bidding war. A bidding war, Eric! From some of the top five! I can’t believe it—”

He’s got my face in his hands, kissing me with all the excitement I know he’s capable of. “Believe it, babe, I told you it was a good one,” he says after pulling back when both of us are fully out of breath.

“It’s because I had the best source.” I wink at him, so he knows exactly who I’m talking about.

“When did this happen?”

“Before I left, and I was going to tell you, but I wanted to tell you in person. And then the whole thing with my Dad happened and I got—”

“Did something else happen?” I’d forgotten that I never told Eric he came to my house. I give him a brief rundown about the conversation, getting worked up all over again. He can sense my shift. “That was why you were off when you got here, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t want to taint this weekend with him. It’s been too great, too fun. This setting is too nice to think about him.”

“I would like you not to think about him at all if I had it my way. That fuckard is putting me back like ten paces.”

Thinking he’s complaining, I get a little defensive. “I’m sorry, Eric, it’s not like I want to feel this way—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, holding up a finger to my mouth again. “The only person I’m mad at is him. I get it. I understand where you’re coming from. I know the worst thing I did to lose your trust was tell you I needed to be on my own to win. I didn’t know it at the time, but now I get it. But I think we’re in a good spot now, yeah?” I nod as he pulls me closer to him. “Take all the time you need, baby. We’ve got this. I’ll show you. You’re mine, I’m not letting go.”