They should have been. But he realized now that they hadn’t been all that stressful. There had been a few tense moments, but the rest of the time had been . . . fun. In fact, spending time with Maisy had been the most fun he’d had in a long time. With Lauren, the time they spent together had always felt forced—it was work pretending to have a good time. With Maisy, he hadn’t had to pretend anything.
But she had.
Maisy had only been going along with her best friend’s wishes. Like Sawyer had gone along with Lincoln’s wishes to stay away from Maisy.
“I hope you won’t hold this against Dixie,” Lincoln said. “She meant well.”
“I’m not mad at Dixie. It was Maisy who kept the secret first. She should’ve told me what happened the morning I found her in my room.”
Lincoln took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Dixie claims that Maisy lied because you made her feel like she was the last woman you wanted to find in your room.” He sighed. “I reckon that’s my fault. I shouldn’t have warned you to keep away from her. You two are adults who can make your own choices on who you want to sleep with.” He paused. “And who you want to fall in love with.”
“I was wrong,” he lied. “It wasn’t love. The entire baby thing screwed with my head, is all. I didn’t even choose to have sex with Maisy.” At least not the first time. “It was the tequila.”
Lincoln squinted at him. “Alcohol only gives you the excuse to do what you want to do but don’t have the guts to. I should know. It took me getting a little drunk before I finally made love to Dixie. And don’t tell me you were never sexually attracted to Maisy. It was more than obvious at my wedding.”
“Your wedding? Nothing happened at your wedding.”
“It would’ve if I hadn’t stepped in. Every time I saw you two, you were flirting like nobody’s business. Then there was the entire ‘I’m teaching Maisy a few bronc riding moves’ thing where you had your hands all over her. You laughed when I accused you of putting the moves on her and said she was just a kid. But you weren’t treating her like a kid, Sawyer. You were treating her like a woman you desired.”
Sawyer stared at his friend. Was Lincoln right? Had he desired Maisy even then? He thought back to the wedding. Until now, he’d only remembered how much fun he’d had with her. How they’d laughed and joked like friends. But now he tried to look past the teasing and remember the emotions he’d had.
Like how surprised he’d been when he’d first seen Maisy in the pretty bridesmaid’s dress. Until that point, he’d only seen her in jeans and t-shirts. The sight of her hair swept up on her head and the dress hugging her breasts and trim waist had left him feeling speechless . . . and physically attracted. An attraction he had pushed from his mind when Lincoln had confronted him at the wedding. But it had been there when she’d placed her hand on his arm as they walked down the aisle. It had been there when they’d talked all through dinner. It had been there when he had led her to a secluded spot in the Dixon’s Boardinghouse’s garden and taught her some new bronc riding moves. But it had all been a pretense to get to touch her and lean in close enough to take a deep breath of the sweet fresh-air scent that was solely Maisy’s.
Which meant on their tequila night, he’d only been doing what he wanted to do for a long time.
But the epiphany made no difference. Maisy was leaving.
“It looks like the boys are here,” Lincoln said.
Sawyer watched as Logan and Cru pulled up to the porch in Logan’s truck. Only seconds later, Holden and Val drove in behind them. All four of the men got out with determined looks on their faces and Sawyer knew he was in for one helluva fight. But he was ready for it. At least, he thought he was ready until two more people got out of the back seat of Holden’s truck. One was a middle-aged woman he didn’t know. And the other . . . was his brother.
Mattie smiled when he saw Sawyer standing on the porch and signed. Surprise.
“Shit,” Sawyer said.
Lincoln laughed. “Hey, you didn’t think we were going to make this easy, did you?”
Since Chester and Lucas’s living room wasn’t big enough to hold everyone, the intervention took place in the barn. Lincoln and Logan set hay bales in a circle for everyone to sit on. Mattie sat next to Sawyer. He glanced around the barn and then signed.
I see now why you love it here. You always did like the smell of horseshit.
Sawyer would’ve laughed if he hadn’t felt so tense.
Is that beautiful black stallion our horse? Mattie signed.
Your horse. Sawyer signed back. I’m giving him to you. I’m heading back to the rodeo.
Mattie grinned. We’ll see about that.
As always when they had a group meeting, Logan took charge. “I guess you know why we’re here, Sawyer.”
Sawyer signed for his brother so he would know what Logan had said—something he always did whenever he was with Mattie—then he signed as he spoke. “I do. And you might as well not waste your time.”
Cru snorted. “I told you we should’ve just hogtied him and beaten some sense into him. It would be much quicker.”
Lincoln glanced at the woman. “Cru is joking, Ms. Miller.” He looked back at Sawyer. “This is Darlene Miller. Tad Miller’s widow.”
Sawyer stared at the woman. Tad Miller had been one of the best bull riders on the circuit until he retired. He’d passed away a few years ago. Sawyer had a bad feeling about this. The feeling grew when Darlene turned her gaze to him.
“I believe you knew my late husband. He mentioned you more than a few times before his CTE got bad.” She paused. “Then he struggled to remember his own family.”
Sawyer wanted to stop her right there, but he couldn’t do that to a widow of a fellow roughstock rider and he figured his friends had known that. His brother thumped on his arm, and not only did Sawyer have to listen to what the woman said, he also had to sign it for Mattie.
“Now I’m not here to give you some sob story,” she said. “And I’m not here to talk you into choosing a different career. Tad loved bull riding and I don’t think anyone could’ve talked him out of doing it—I know I sure couldn’t. But I do think he would’ve quit much sooner if he had known the horrific outcome. It’s not just a few headaches, Mr. Dawson. Or a few lost memories. Or a little depression and mood swings. It’s whole lot of those things. The doctors couldn’t diagnose Tad when he was living, but after he died—at the age of forty-nine—they were able to look at his brain and see the damage he’d done to it over the years. Damage that might’ve been avoided by wearing safety equipment or just knowing when to quit. Since it sounds like you’re past the safety equipment stage, I guess you’re at the knowing when to quit stage.”
He didn’t say anything and she continued. “The specialists I spent years talking to never could give me a number of how many concussions the brain can take before CTE sets in. So pretty much you’re just rolling the dice. And here’s the thing. You’re not just rolling dice for you. You’re rolling it for every single person who loves you.” She glanced around. “Which seems to be a lot of people. As a person who lost someone I didn’t just love, I adored, I’m asking you to consider your loved ones—to understand that when you straddle that horse and wait for the gate to swing open, it’s not just you riding. It’s everyone who cares about you. Including the young woman who called me and paid for my plane ticket here. If Maisy hadn’t pleaded so adamantly, I would be back in Cheyenne celebrating my best friend’s birthday.”