The closer they got to the property, the more the worry started to unfurl in Maren’s belly. What would her daddy think to see his daughter sitting so close to a boy? What would he say to Grady? And what would Grady tell her dad about the shoe? She prepared to be reprimanded, knowing she had it coming.
It was easy to assume Grady would be honest. That was the sort of boy his mama had raised him to be. Maren didn’t expect him to go along with her in this instance. He had no reason to shoulder the blame.
Pulling up on the reins, Grady eased into a jog as they trotted over to her daddy and Star. The horse was still tied to the hitching rail, her hoof held between Walt’s knees as he continued to examine the damage. Maybe Maren’s father didn’t suspect her dishonesty. But the sidelong look that horse gave Maren brought the guilt to the surface, like Star could somehow whisper Maren’s deceitfulness right into Walt’s ear with a low nicker.
They halted with a “whoa” and Grady swung off Remy’s back, then reached up a hand to pull Maren down.
Their gaze collided as they were about to touch. Frozen, Grady’s look transitioned from a fleeting glance to a stare that held longer than necessary, to the point that Maren’s skin felt fiery and her hand shook as she reached out to him.
“I’ll help you down,” he spoke so softly he practically mouthed it, and if Maren thought touching his hand was startling, the palm placed gently on her back as she slid off of the horse was more than her teenage heart could handle. Its beat crashed in her ears, her throat, her ribs. Even her fingertips vibrated with a foreign, yet thrilling buzz.
Their eyes met first, their hands second.
She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t wanted their mouths to be the next to connect.
But Maren had never kissed a boy and Grady was her best friend in the whole world. Kissing wasn’t something they would likely ever do.
“Cutter?” Walt barked. “Boy, come on over here and tell me exactly how it is that you managed to take this horse down that ravine again. Told you to stay away from that part of the trail, now didn’t I?”
Grady gazed down at Maren from under a fringe of gold-tipped lashes. His tongue swept over his bottom lip, he shook his head, and then he spun around like he wasn’t under a spell any longer.
“I take all the blame, sir. I shouldn’t have taken Star down there. Maren told me not to. That she knew you wouldn’t approve—but I didn’t listen.” His voice faded in volume as he jogged toward Maren’s father and her waiting horse.
Maren couldn’t understand what would make Grady so readily take the fall for her, but she was grateful for it. There was a lot she couldn’t make sense of when it came to Grady Cutter. Mostly the manner in which her heart picked up in speed each time she saw him the rest of that youthful summer.
She’d certainly never be able to make any sense of that.
Something made her think she’d likely never be able to stop it, either.
2
Grady
Summer – Age Seventeen
“Five seconds?”
Grady couldn’t hear well over the thunder of commotion from the stands. It beat around him like the choppy whooshing of a helicopter blade. Even the bleachers vibrated from the raucous movement and sound. He could feel it so deeply his molars nearly rattled in the back of his mouth, making him grind his teeth and clamp his jaw to regain some sense of control.
“Was that ride really only five seconds?” Kiley Swift nudged her small shoulder into Grady’s side. Her blonde hair, left loose and curled only at the ends, brushed against his arm. It should’ve given him goose bumps. Kiley was a beautiful girl—one of the prettiest in their junior class—but the feather-light sweep of the strands on his bicep only made him shudder uncomfortably. Grady swatted his arm.
“Yeah, five seconds, I think.”
In truth, Grady hadn’t seen the ride. He hadn’t seen any of them. He had an unobstructed view of the arena, but Maren was two rows up ahead, and each time he tried to focus on the bulls and the broncs, her presence garnered all of his attention.
Kiley smiled and shrugged her shoulders in the bubbliest way. “Eight seconds doesn’t seem all that long to stay on.” When she wrapped her American flag manicured fingers around Grady’s forearm, his gut reaction was to shake her off. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, though, so he let them be for the moment. “I bet you could stay on longer, cowboy.” The wink tacked on made Grady fight to keep from grimacing.
“There are all kinds of riders, Kiley.” Leland McCoy shot forward, leaning to meet Grady’s eyes. “But I guarantee you, Cutter’s not the bull riding kind. He can stay in a saddle all day long pushing cows, but get him on one and you’ll see he’s not much of a man after all.”
If Grady hadn’t had to reach around Kiley to do so, he would’ve slugged Lee in his scrawny gut. As it stood, all he did was give a smile and redirect his gaze back down to his soda can. It was empty—had been for some time. If he wanted another he’d have to get up from his seat and make his way over to the concession stand at the front of the arena. From his viewpoint, the line was amusement-park-long with people refilling their beverage of choice before last call. It’d be at least thirty minutes, likely more. A lot could happen in that amount of time.
Rafe Rivers could do more than just put his arm around Maren’s shoulders. Grady’s brain spun with a thousand different scenarios, all of which made his hands clench into tight fists.
“How many more riders?” Kiley was talking to Lee now. It wasn’t that Grady was purposefully ignoring her, but he wasn’t paying her much attention, which, in the end, probably amounted to the same thing.
“Only two more.” Leland popped the tab on a soda and chugged it down in three giant swallows. When finished, he crushed it to the metal bleachers and watched as the accordioned aluminum tumbled under the stands and landed in a pile of trash littered below. It was the second day of the rodeo and Grady doubted they’d even clean up the place until the final event on Sunday.
He stared at that mountain of junk under the bleachers for a ridiculous amount of time. It was better than looking up ahead at Rafe with Maren. Less nauseating, at least. It wasn’t until Kiley’s posture straightened and her eyes grew round with silly excitement that Grady’s fixation on the trash broke. She slugged him in the shoulder.
“Why don’t we just see how long y’all can ride?”
Grady wasn’t following.
“Remember that mechanical bull back at the tent near the entrance?”
“Nah. I don’t think that’s such a good—”
“Oh, come on, Grady. You’re not scared, are you?”
Grady’s head whipped up. It seemed impossible that Maren could hear their conversation, but evidently she had and she was equally encouraging of this horrendous idea. She shifted on her bleacher seat, swiveling to meet Grady’s face and wore the biggest smile that pushed all the way up to her sparkling eyes.
Grady loved her eyes. They were a soft, velvety green and even when they stared at him like this—squinted in a challenge he knew he would inevitably lose—he couldn’t break from their unrelenting pull. No other girl had ever drawn him in like that. With most, they’d find a way to coyly flutter or blink, heavy on the flirt. Maren never did that. She just looked right at him. Right into him.