A playful grin spread across Declan’s face. “Relax, Wildflower,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “Thought we could use a drink.”
Without missing a beat, I retrieved my phone from my pocket, fingers dancing over the screen to text Laura about the car trouble and consequent delay. Not a cloud of doubt about Declan’s intentions hovered in my mind.
I suppressed an eye roll. The idea of a hard drink seemed appealing after the whirlwind evening. Hell, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. Something about Declan Wilder captivated me. As we sauntered into the dimly lit bar, the murmurs dipped and heads pivoted, Declan drawing interest and speculation like a magnet.
Upon reaching the bar, Declan gestured for two neat whiskeys, the bartender nodding without questioning, as if already aware of his choice. Declan’s silent command over the space was intense. The liquor’s bite and subsequent warmth brought a welcomed flush, spreading from my throat to my chest.
Catching Declan’s unwavering gaze, I felt a heat creep into my cheeks under the weight of his scrutiny. “What?” The word escaped me, laced with an unexpected shyness.
He shrugged casually, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “You fit well on my bike, Wildflower.”
His comment made goose bumps spread across my skin, challenging me in a way I hadn’t expected. I swiftly tried to deflect his comment. “So, what’s a guy like you doing in our quiet town? You seem out of place in a local rodeo like Dust Devils.”
His eyes lit up before a shadow briefly crossed his features. “Just passing through,” he said vaguely, focusing back on his drink.
Unable to hold back my curiosity, I pressed, “Just passing through? That’s a bit mysterious, don’t you think?”
His laugh filled the air, a deep, rich sound. “Life’s all about going where the wind takes you, right?”
His noncommittal charm was as irritating as it was intriguing. “I’ve lived here all my life,” I admitted, taking another sip of the whiskey, feeling its heat course down my throat. “What about you?”
He shrugged again, a relaxed smile on his face. “I’ve lived all over.”
My sigh slipped out, his dismissive attitude testing my patience. “Explains the RV,” I conceded, feeling the liquid warmth spreading within me. “Do you travel for rodeo events? Or . . . something else . . . ?” I knew he was associated with the Dust Devils. I wondered if he was some sort of traveling drug dealer—or worse.
“I do a bit of odd jobs. I’m a contract hire,” he affirmed, his voice unhurried. “But bull riding’s been a part of me since childhood. My dad, he passed when I was twelve, but he taught me most of what I know.” He paused, taking a sip of his whiskey before adding, “My mom, she’s gone too.”
The mention of his parents’ death echoed a familiar pang of loss. “Oh.” My voice softened, empathy coloring the single syllable. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Declan’s gaze mellowed, momentarily letting his guard down. “Appreciated,” he responded, a touch of frailty peeking through his tone. “Time doesn’t really dull the pain.”
Silently agreeing, I managed a soft, “I know.” My words hovered in the air. “Grief, it leaves its mark.”
His eyes met mine, reflecting a silent pact shared through loss. “Yes, it does,” he replied, his voice resonating like the low strum of a guitar.
We were connected, two souls linked by past pains. Our exchange carried a weight that seemed to quiet everything around us.
As the quiet lingered, I gathered my courage. “Bull riding, it’s not my thing,” I confessed, my voice edged with nervousness. “My dad died because of a ride, and my little sister is dead set on following in his footsteps.”
Declan’s face darkened, a mix of regret and comprehension in his eyes. “I’m sorry about your dad,” he said, sincerity ringing in his voice. “This sport, it can be brutal.”
Memories of my dad’s accident surged back, pulling me into their current. “It’s terrifying,” I admitted, my voice shaky. “Watching someone you care about risk everything . . . it’s a nightmare.”
He nodded, seeming momentarily lost in thought. “No argument there,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But sometimes, you learn more from doing. And the more you’re told no, the more enticing it becomes.”
His words echoed my own thoughts about my sister. I wanted to shield her from the harsh reality of the rodeo, but I knew there was a draw she couldn’t ignore. It was a tricky balance of wanting to protect her and knowing she had her own dreams to chase.
“You may be right,” I conceded, a hint of resignation in my voice. “Maybe it’s less about the risk and more about confronting our fears, finding bravery in the midst of the chaos.”
Our eyes locked, a newfound respect in his. “Exactly,” he said, his voice low and warm, stirring a whirlpool of feelings within me. “Risk is part of truly living life.”
His words hung in the silence, escalating the connection between us. I was acutely aware of the uncertainty of our situation, the unspoken desires underpinning our conversation. It felt like something was pulling us closer, tempting us to explore the undefined boundaries of our attraction.
But Declan’s involvement with the Dust Devils gang hung over us like an unspoken secret, a constant reminder of the potential problems surrounding him. I knew I had to keep my guard up to avoid the emotional rollercoaster that getting involved with him could trigger. “Seems like riding bulls doesn’t really shake you up,” I ventured.
“Hmm.”
I took a sip of my whiskey, wrestling with the unease growing inside me. My aversion to bull riding was deeply ingrained, tied to painful memories and anxiety about Avery’s future. My dad’s accident cast a long, dark shadow, and yet Avery seemed determined to follow in his footsteps. “So, you ride for the Devils?” I pushed further, ignoring the discomfort of digging into this sensitive topic. I needed answers, but Declan was a vault of hidden truths.
“When they need me, I’m there,” he replied nonchalantly.
“And do you do everything they ask?” I prodded softly, fearful of what his answer might be.
His gaze met mine, the power of it making my skin tingle. “As long as I’m in town, yeah.”
His words were all the confirmation I needed. The harsh truth of our situation suddenly felt all too real. I couldn’t deny my attraction to Declan, but I also knew pursuing anything more than friendship with him was a bad idea. Not only was he just passing through, but his ties to the infamous Dust Devils gang made him a troubling prospect. I couldn’t afford to let myself fall for someone whose life was entrenched in unpredictability.
My mind raced as a heavy realization settled in. Understanding that Declan was a temporary figure in my life, not to mention his link to criminal activities, underscored the need to guard my heart from the potential pain and chaos that could follow.
“It’s a shame you’re a bull rider. We could have had fun,” I said, forcing my tone to be lighthearted. I needed him to know that this was probably going to be the last time we saw one another. I needed to end this.
“We can still have fun,” he replied.