Rider’s Block

39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter thirty-nine

"Belong Together," Mark Ambor

T he second week of December steamrolls its way into my calendar, and I’m once again sitting in a window seat on my way to watch Eric do what he does best, but this time it’s the time. I’ve been to Vegas once in my life, and it was a random whim to go with a friend with no itinerary or reason to be there. It was fun, but overwhelming.

This round is a whole new type of overwhelming, because Penny is in charge, and she has a whole list of things we’re going to do in the downtime.

The NFR event lasts a week, and there are press conferences and sponsorship meetings to go to for the boys while we get to explore. I spend the first three days barely seeing Eric, but I’ve seen most of Vegas. Well, that I know of. Penny assures me we have much more exploring to do, but I can’t imagine there’s a store we haven’t been in at this point. I never realized how much shopping would be here, but I guess people want to go spend their winnings while they have it. The house really does always win.

Eric apparently loves a good game of craps. All the Randalls do, apparently. It’s a group table where a winning streak for one is a winning streak for all, and these brothers know how to amp themselves up. After an hour of actively doing everything I can to lose my voice, Eric walks away doubling his money and decides to take me to dinner with his winnings the next night.

He’s been riding well, moving along each qualification level and maintaining a score that keeps him in the top three, but he doesn’t seem bothered. Not in the slightest. The calmness he has far exceeds my own, seeing as I’m not the one on the actual horse. But he’s perfectly at ease every time I see him.

“How’s Dean handling the week?” I ask Penny as she helps me find the perfect outfit for the dinner with Eric. He picked one of the Michelin restaurants, and I’ve never been to one so I’m a little excited. I dug into them a little when he told me where we’re going, and now that I know what to look for I’ve made a list of places to try—top of that list being a restaurant attached to a vineyard in Napa. They have some of the highest reviews in the States and the food looks divine.

She’s holding up a soft green dress with a squared neckline “He’s okay, I can tell it’s kind of weighing on him and he’s ready to be done with it. His jokes are only at half volume, but he’s hanging in there. Now what about this one?” Wiggling the dress in front of me. “I think it matches your eyes.”

It’s admittedly a little perfect. I’m trying to decide if tonight’s the night I want to give him the surprise I’ve been dying to show him. My agent sent a physical proof over right before I left, and I’ve been carrying it with me in my purse for three days and it feels like it weighs about a million pounds. I know tonight’s not the night, but with that dress I could change my mind. Penny’s been my sounding board these past few weeks, helping me tiptoe my way into figuring out how I want to admit to Eric that I’m unequivocally in love with him. I’m still scared, but for the first time that fear is more about the fear of losing what’s great than the fear of repeating what was bad. It’s a weird place to find myself. Completely new territory, and if there’s anyone who can relate, it’s Penny.

She and Dean are full speed ahead, no more tiptoeing around. Dean’s ready to marry her, and I’m pretty sure she’s ready to marry him. Once they got over that initial barrier, what was left to sort out?

If I’m being honest with myself, I’d marry Eric tomorrow if he asked. We haven’t been together all that long, and I know it’s soon, but I can’t think of what I want to know about him before we took that step. I mean I know how he is around the holidays, I know how he wakes up in the morning (very grumpy, very adorable), I know how he is with kids, and I know how I want to suggest we navigate our distance. Actually, the more I think about it, the more my initial hesitations feel…inconsequential.

We’re looking for shoes to match my new dress when it suddenly hits me. I practically drop the Jimmy Choo—that I really shouldn’t buy but like to look at anyways—and look at her. “Oh my God! I Great Gatsby ’d him!” I turn to face Penny expecting her to have the same shock and awe of this revelation with me, but that is distinctly not the face she makes at me. “What the…why…why does this not feel like new information to you?”

“Because Dean and I talk about it once a week. At least.”

“What?!”

“You totally did, Mia, it’s about time you realized it.”

“But…but, but why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Because. You had to get there on your own. But, as your friend, if you didn’t get there after the NFR I would have kindly shaken you until you did.”

“I can’t believe…wow, I feel like an idiot.”

“A nice idiot—”

“Hey!”

“With good intentions!” she quickly clarifies as I hold the Jimmy Choo accusingly in her direction. “We get how it happened, could happen to anyone really, but now that you’re here can you put the poor guy out of his misery and finally tell him you love him so you guys can get married, and you can be my neighbor and we can all laugh about this?”

“This is where I usually tell you you’re full of it and speaking too soon…but I’ve lost that right, haven’t I?"

“Absolutely. Glad you realize that one, too.”

I roll my eyes and place the shoe down before I dent it and end up having to buy it. Shame it’s not my size. “Well, I do love him. And I do want everything you said, and now I feel like an idiot. But I’ll fix it. After he wins, I’ll fix it.”

“Oh, sugar cakes, there’s nothing to fix. He’s not going anywhere.”

That makes me smile. He’s not, and I’m finally starting to allow myself to know that’s a good thing.

***

I spent more time on my hair than I ever have in my life, but this dress is just too stunning to not give it a little extra attention in the beauty department. I’ve never dressed up for Eric like this before, so it feels special. He finished his event a few hours ago and I watched from the stands as he PR’d his score. We’re heading into tonight on cloud nine, but with one more ride before the final we know it’s long from being over.

The shoes I finally settled on were not, unfortunately, the Jimmy Choos, but they still make me feel tall and elegant and like I’ve got legs for miles. The dress is modest in length but with a slit that makes it Vegas appropriate. Penny was right, the green satin makes my eyes pop, and incidentally brings out the red in my strawberry-blonde hair. After wearing jeans and my red boots for so long, it feels weird to be dressed up. I can’t even remember the last time I curled my hair. But now it falls in soft waves down my back, hitting me right above the waist. I feel pretty. I’ll admit it. But it’s for a good reason. I don’t think tonight’s the night I’ll tell him how I feel, but I want to dress up for him.

Right on cue I hear a knock I’ve become so familiar with at my door. When I open it, I almost tell him I love him right on the spot. He’s got his nice hat on with my favorite pair of his jeans. Still towering over me despite my heels, but his face is what gets me.

“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath as he faces away from me and paces in front of the door a few times. “You really know how to test a man’s patience, Red.” I blush from behind a strand of my hair and grab my purse before meeting him in the hall. He’s mid-stride when I grab his elbow.

“I’m hoping that’s a compliment.”

“I’m not the one that’s good with words, babe. And I can’t exactly show you how I feel right now so, yeah, that’s a good thing.”

“You’re better with words than you think.” I squeeze his arm extra tight on our way to the elevator hoping he knows it to be what it is. “And you don’t look too shabby yourself there, cowboy.”

The restaurant he chose is every bit of glitz and glam you’d expect in Sin City. It’s a prix fix menu which means I don’t have to make any decisions, and I quickly learn I quite like that style. We’re served course after course of food that I not only love for how it tastes, but I love Eric’s reactions to them. As a guy who loves casseroles, meat, and potatoes, these minuscule bites disappear way faster than he’d like, and I end up sharing most of my bites with him to keep him satisfied. Watching him cook back at the ranch, I could tell he has an emerging appreciation for food, but this is the first time he’s been exposed to anything on the Michelin circuit, and the fact that he chose this is a go-big-or-go-home method that I’ve become accustomed to being his preferred method. We meet our chef, Gabe, who came here from a restaurant in Paris that had just earned a star. We talked for a while about this and that, and he affirmed my recommendation to try the restaurant up in Napa. He apparently worked with the two chefs who own it and couldn’t have nicer things to say about them.

Even though the place is nice, it isn’t stuffy like I expected. There was a part of me that thought I’d have to whisper and sit delicately to fit in, but the ambience is actually pleasant, relaxed. It’s even decorated for Christmas, which I find to be adorable.

Eric and I talk about our Christmas plans—he’s insistent we do the actual day with my family since we did Thanksgiving with his—and for once this future talk doesn’t make me squirm. It’s assuring, affirming. We talk about his last few rides and the confidence this man has is almost unnerving.

“I don’t want to throw you off by asking this, but how on earth are you so calm about all of this?”

“I’m definitely nervous, babe. I just have a different perspective this time.”

“What was your perspective before?”

“Before I wanted to win for me, to prove I can make a name for myself. But I realized trying to win just for me is…well, it’s sort of fleeting. All of the guys that have won before me? I can name maybe ten of them. Maybe. But those guys that won? Well, if they had family, I imagine their family thought the world of them. And those poor guys that sacrificed their family for the title? Well, no one really remembers them. The guys that won for those they loved won twice. They won just for having someone to come home to, and for having a family that loved them. I’ve always had a family, but, well…winning for you feels like winning twice. And even if I don’t win the title, I won you.”

I try not to tear up and do a terrible job at it. I’m blinking uncontrollably and looking anywhere but him. I feel his palm on my knee, and he’s got a smirk that lets me know he is fully aware of how sweet he is and how well that was worded.

“Not good with words my ass. You’re going to make me mess up my makeup and I worked really hard on it tonight.”

“You look gorgeous, Red. Makeup or not. I’ve always been partial to your face without makeup, but you look stunning tonight. I’m sorry if I didn’t say it right earlier. You kind of caught me off guard.”

“Penny picked out the dress. I think it makes my hair look more red.”

“I like that.”

“Figured you might.” He moves his hand to hold my own as another course comes out.

“And if I forget to say it, thank you again for coming out here with me.”

“I don’t think I had much of a choice”—he smiles at my joke in that lazy confidence of his—“but if I did have a choice, I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. Now who’s fishing for compliments?”

“I’ll take every scrap I can get from you.”

“Oh, don’t say it like that,” I say, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Look, Eric, I’m…sorry. I just, well, I know you’ve been more patient with me than I deserve, and I’m sorry if my reservations ever felt like they had to do with you and not me, but honestly I was going to save it until—”

“Whoa, whoa, there, Red,” Eric says as he pulls my chair closer to him. “I want to hear it exactly when you planned to tell me, alright? I like that you’re selective with it. Makes me know that once it’s mine, it’s mine for good.”

I nod and smile for the millionth time at dinner.

The tiny courses made up for themselves in spades by the time we got to dessert. Even though Eric ate at least half of my meal, I’m filled to the brim, but I found a way to indulge in all four desserts. Can’t pass up chocolate in that many varieties.

Because we went out after his event, it’s already later than I’d like to ensure he gets a good night’s sleep for tomorrow’s round, so we call it a night after our meal, thanking Gabe profusely for a good time. Eric walks me, hand in hand, back to my room and kisses me goodnight like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Missing my belt loop?” I ask as we walk toward my door. He’s had a hand at my hip while we walk down the hall, and I’ve felt him absently search for his usual spot.

“A little, but I like this dress too much to complain about it.”

“Can I admit something?”

“With that kind of lead-in, always.”

“I was surprised to find out you’re a physical touch kind of guy.”

“Why’s that?” His eyebrows are scrunched together in that adorable way of his.

“You’re just so…I don’t know, you’re just so…cowboy.”

“Baby, that’s just…well, that’s just about the most ridiculous thing you’ve gotten mixed up—”

“But then I saw you with Roper—”

“I don’t know if I like where this is going—”

“And I realized you really are a softy under all of this muscle mass and burley expressions.”

“Damn straight—”

“You can’t say no to either of us, can you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

He loves me, I love him. Let’s get this damn show on the road so we can quit tiptoeing around the subject. Yee-freaking-haw.