Ride the Sky (Runaway Ranch, #4)

by Ava Hunter

A faint glimmer of emotion slides across Davis’s hard face. “You’ve been avoidin’ us. The family. Stayin’ away.”

“You’re workin’ too much. You ain’t sleepin’.” Ford drags a hand through his shaggy dark-blond hair. “Think I’ve seen you crack a six-pack more than a smile these days.” “What can I say? I’m thirsty.” The joke doesn’t land. No one laughs. “Wy, the road you’re headed on—I know it.” Ford eyes me warily. “You’re sleepin’ too little. Drinkin’ too much.” I am. Because my liver can handle a lot more than my heart can. “You ain’t rodeoin’ no more,” Ford goes on, “but I see you on those horses. A hundred miles per hour without breaking. You ain’t John Wayne, kid. It’s like you’re going through the motions.”

I lost her. The one woman who made me feel something real. “You haven’t been the same, Wy,” Charlie says, pulling my attention “Not since Fallon left.”

“I miss her,” I croak. It’s the only thing I can say. “We know,” Charlie gruffs.

🥺

“I see it, Wyatt,” Davis says. “You’re angry like I was when Koty left.” Rubbing his stubbled jaw, he shifts uncomfortably. “Have you and Fallon—” “Yeah,” I say, getting ahead of it before he can ask. “We did.” “Fuck.” Davis looks worried. I rub my eyes. “Don’t say it, I already know.”

lol pot calling the kettle black there Davis

The heart in my chest tightens painfully. “So? What’s your fuckin’ point?” “Our fuckin’ point is,” Ford growls, “we let you sulk for long enough. It’s time to snap out of it.” He grins, the picture of innocence. “You need a slump buster to get you out of your funk.”

“Fuck you,” I tell Ford, giving him what he wants. A reaction. A muscle tics beneath Davis’s eye. “Our fuckin’ point is…we all fumbled it with Fallon. We should have—” “Tied her to a fence until she saw common sense?” Charlie drawls. “Something like that.” Regret creases Davis’s face. “I should have done something. She’s my sister-in-law. She’s my responsibility.”

“The point is,” Charlie says, watching me carefully, “we’re all to blame. Not just you.” “Something you want to say, kid?” Ford smirks, and I wonder who made him the damn expert in love. “You gone for the girl? Name on boots?” “Asshole,” I mutter.

Watching me struggle for an answer, Ford laughs. “Well, while you’re busy lyin’ to us, maybe we got something that’ll help you.” Charlie tosses an issue of Western Horseman across the table. “Open it.”

Competing in the Rock ’n Ride Rodeo, a new reality show competition, is Fallon McGraw. McGraw, who’s currently living at El Toro Ranch in Gila Gulch, Arizona… My mouth goes dry. My heart hammers. “She’s in Arizona?” “Looks like it,” Charlie says. Vic LaVoie’s ranch. “I don’t believe it,” I say, reading. Pride and dread hum beneath my skin. “The pompous prick did it. Pappy got her to the big leagues.”

Charlie chuckles. “Glad to hear that she’s still as impulsive and slightly insane as I remember.” Davis’s deep voice rumbles. “Well?”

I tear a hand through my hair. “Fuck it. I’m going.” Charlie chuckles. “Hell, you ain’t gonna have all the fun.” The offer startles me, but I grin at my brothers. “Then let’s fuckin’ go.” Go get Fallon. Bring her home. And then… Tell her everything I’ve been wanting to say for the last four years.

“Here. For your lipstick.” Tripp Hendrix, a tall, lanky cowboy, with a coif of impressive wheat-colored hair, hovers over me. I should hate another man in my life, but Tripp’s a childhood friend from Resurrection. Neighbors, we often walked each other home from school. When I was twelve, I caught him getting the shit kicked out of him by a couple of classmates. I pulled a fist like my father had shown me and swung. The group scattered. My fist throbbed, but I’d never admit it. “Holy shit,” Tripp gasped, rubbing at his black eye. “You did that.” I sort of laughed at him. “Nothing to it. Got your back.” I meant it. In Resurrection, we stick up for people. Now, employed by Pappy as a member of our team, Tripp’s our water boy. Gear carrier. He’s all the things, including a pain in my ass. No matter how mean I am to him, he sticks around.

I lift an eyebrow at Pappy. “All I want to do is ride, Pappy. Not play dress up.” “And ride you will. Tomorrow, the show goes on.” Pappy swaggers his way in the dust, ashes his cigar. “In the meantime, we make money.”

My agent for the last two years, Pappy’s mission in life is to make me the face of female bull riding in America. He’s greedy and ruthless, and I hate him. Dakota says Pappy is using me, and he is, but I’m using him, too.

I scowl. “After this, no more endorsements,” I tell Pappy. I thought I wanted to be famous. But all it’s been is a pain in my ass. “I nearly got killed filming that damn boot ad,” I grumble. Pappy guffaws, his big stomach quivering. “Do you think I’d put you in danger, my girl?” I snort. “Would you?” I bare my teeth as the photographer gets in my face with the camera. “Hurry the fuck up.” Taking a draw on his cigar, Pappy says, “You’re my little ticket. My moneymaker.”

Eww

The earth rattles beneath my boots, a great rumbling sound like a giant awakening. Startled, I twist toward the long, winding dirt road. Past the gate come four massive trucks. A silver Chevy leads the pack. Davis’s silver Chevy. Fuck. My heart drops into my stomach. They found me. Damn Pappy and that article. I squeeze my eyes shut. Not ready. Not ready to face them. Any of them. Vic’s droll voice tears me from my thoughts. “Why do uninvited guests keep showing up here?” He looks at me. “I reckon you have something to do with it?” “I’m going to kill them,” I grumble.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding all these months,” Dakota breathes, looking around the ranch then at me. “You did it, Fallon. You found your wild horses.” Dakota’s words cut. There’s awe in her voice, and I hate it. I wish she’d be disappointed. Wish she’d rage at me. Call me selfish, an idiot. It’d almost make this strange reunion less painful.

“What’re you doing here?” Mischief lights in Dakota’s dark-brown eyes. “We tracked you down.” I snort. “Clearly.” “You’re riding tomorrow,” Davis adds. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “Wanted to be here for it.” Great. Just what my nerves need. “Are you okay?” Dakota asks, holding me at arm’s length to evaluate me. “How are you?” “I’m—” I break off, my train of thought sideswiped by a lone figure brooding in the distance. I’m fucked. Wyatt.

I hate how my heart tumbles. How my body reacts to both of us being in the same proximity. He’s here. I’m here. The perfect match for combustion. We lock eyes, his frosty blue gaze capturing mine. I tense at the electric current that passes between us. A spark. A detonation.

“Damn,” Ford says, stepping up for a hug. He squeezes my bicep. Squeezes again. “You’re jacked, cowgirl.” My breath hitches when I get to Reese. “It’s okay,” she says like she’s read my thoughts. She releases me from a flowery-perfumed hug. Her smile bright and beautiful. “Not another word about it.”

“Figures you’d pick a place hotter than hell.” Warmth rolls through me at the sound of Wyatt’s deep, rough drawl. I look left, and suddenly, Wyatt’s in my space. All around me. All I see. His approach is like a record scratch. The energy shifts. Everyone watches us like we’re a TV show they can’t turn off. Muscles ripple around his square jaw. He doesn’t smile. His eyes have me locked in some intense gaze. Truth is, I can’t tear my own from him.

I wonder if he’s kept our secrets like he promised. I straighten. “Hell or not, I love it here.” His boots settle inches from mine. Wyatt’s gaze drifts. I don’t miss the way those light silver-blue eyes slowly run the length of my body. The long black slip. My breasts. My face. That’s when I remember what I look like. What I’m wearing.

“Been some time,” Wyatt says irritably. Aware of eyes on us, I meet his stare with cool indifference. “Wish I could say I missed you.” He lifts a brow. “I’d say that’s too sweet, even for you.” Ford groans. Defensive instincts take over, and I cross my arms. If he wants to fight, fine. I’ll bite. “I see you’re still an asshole.” His eyes flash, anger there. “And you’re still a—” Davis snaps his fingers. “How about we fuckin’ don’t?”

Like they can remind me of all the reasons why I have hated Wyatt Montgomery for so damn long. One. He’s too damn handsome for his own good. Two. He knows every way to push my buttons. Three. For what he said years ago. He broke my heart, and I’m still not over it. I’ve held on to the petty grudge since I was sixteen. The first time I met Wyatt, I was starstruck. He was the fastest rider I ever saw. He was rodeo. Dust and grit. Everything a cowboy should be. When my father told me he had signed me up for lessons, I screamed into my pillow.

Wyatt and I trained together for six months. Evenings and weekends by his side. We bickered, argued, but it was still one of the best times in my life. And then he said what he said. Tears on my pillow. Dakota stroked my back and murmured soothing motherly things to me. I vowed he’d never know how hard I cried. I hated him. This stupid cowboy. After overhearing what I did, I considered Wyatt Montgomery my rival. As good as dead to me. I plotted. To be a better rider than him. To make him eat his words. As we trained together over the years, I endured that smart mouth and irritating smirk to beat him at his game. Then we went on the rodeo circuit together. Close quarters meant loathing turned to lust. In the angriest kind of way, I fucked him. Partly because of attraction, partly because it seemed like the best way to get under his skin at the time. He broke my fucking heart back then. I’d break his. In as many ways as I could.

“You live here?” Ruby asks, thankfully changing the subject. Charlie slides an arm around her shoulder. My friends stare at me with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity. “In that bunkhouse there.” I hitch a thumb. “I’ve been practicing riding bulls with Vic since I got here.” Wyatt crosses his arms, sneers as he looks toward Pappy and Tripp. “Riding bulls include photographers and red lipstick?” Hot temper erupts. I snap open my mouth. But before I can say a word, Reese grabs my hand. “I think bulls and red lipstick go fabulous together.”

Footsteps thump behind me. “Hell, since I got a circus on my property, think I deserve some introductions.” “Shit.” I turn to Vic, who’s ambling our way. I make introductions around the receiving line of friends and family. Charlie, Davis, and Ford shake Vic’s hand with a reverence reserved for legends. When I come to Wyatt, my hand drops in the space between us. “This is…Wyatt. He used to be my…trainer.” I say it because it’s exactly the right thing to hurt. To push. “Right,” Wyatt rasps, sounding pissed off. Almost in pain.

“I’ve heard about y’all,” Vic says with a chuckle. His gaze lands on Wyatt. “Almost all of ya.” My eyes fly to Wyatt’s face. Stormy. Scowling. Still, he reaches out to shake Vic’s hand.

“No cuddling. No kissing. No romance.” There in the dingy motel room, Fallon drills a finger into my chest as she relays her rules. “Sounds borin’,” I drawl. That sharp eyebrow lifts. “Fine. Have fun by yourself.” She turns, but I snag her wrist. “Where you goin’?” “Back to the bar. To find someone who can play my way.” “That ain’t funny.” Her smirk doesn’t amuse me. “Nothin’ ’bout you with another man is funny.” Her shrug is casual. “A girl’s gotta blow off steam. Don’t take it personal.”

“You want to blow off steam, you come find me.” I take a step forward and grip her jaw. “And me only.”

“We can fuck,” Fallon says, her voice a blade, “but we can’t be friends.” “Why?” Her gaze sears. “Because I hate you.” I wait for her to tell me she’s joking, only to realize she’s serious. She hates my fucking guts. Irritated now, I arch a brow. “Why? She scoffs. “If you don’t know, I can’t help you.”

“Fuck me,” I whisper, staring more than I should. “We shouldn’t do this.”

Fallon rolls her eyes, unzips her jeans, and shimmies out of them. Now she’s in skimpy bikini bottoms. “For fuck’s sake, asshole, it’s just sex.” I grin, my gaze devouring those long, tan legs, those itty-bitty panties. “You’re trouble.” She grins back. “I am. But you’re used to it.”

“Remember the rules,” she orders as my mouth hovers inches from hers. Twin spots of pink have appeared on her cheeks. “Fucking fine,” I growl. My mouth leaves hers, traveling down to her breast. I lick the peak, and she shivers. Then I snare her waist and move her back toward the bed. Taking control. Like I always do.

This fucking girl. Fallon McGraw is beautiful. Dangerous. Deadly. And she’ll never know how much I goddamn want her.

My gaze drifts. The second I get a lock on her, tunnel vision takes over. Fallon. As local as local can be the way she confidently weaves through the crowd, nodding, stopping every so often for a conversation or a handshake. Neon lights catching the silver scar on her jaw, she glances over her shoulder. The fuck off glare she sends me has me going rock hard in a matter of seconds. Christ. She’s the world’s biggest menace with that kind of crippling beauty.

“How’s your girl lookin’?” I snap my head to Ford, wanting to punch that smug smile off his face. “Ain’t my girl.” Ruby giggles.

I bring a beer to my lips and chuckle darkly. The distance she keeps between us is fuckin’ unreal. My fault. I came in hot seeing her on that ranch today. Not how I wanted our first meeting in almost a year to go. But the second I laid eyes on her, bitterness welled up. Anger over her leaving. Relief at seeing that she was okay. The clusterfuck of emotions meant I came out swinging. And so did she.

“You ready for the rodeo tomorrow?” Davis asks Fallon. I down my beer in three quick gulps. Rove an eye around the bar. “This ain’t a rodeo, it’s a circus.” “Not like I ever want to agree with Wyatt,” Ford says, “but yeah, it feels a little too reality show to me.” “They didn’t ask you buffoons,” Fallon shoots back. She pivots to Davis and Dakota. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.” The sisters exchange quick grins.

Fuck this. I shove up from the table. “I’m goin’ to talk to her.” Davis exhales. “Just…don’t start.” Dakota grabs the hem of my T-shirt. “Please, don’t.” I’m moving before I can process what I’m doing. My entire body is on a gravitational pull toward Fallon. I can’t wait anymore. Can’t stay away. This is my one opportunity to talk to her alone, and I’m taking it. I wedge my body between Fallon and the cowboy, subtly blocking her from him and our family.

“Thought you didn’t drink before a ride,” I say. Down goes her shot. “I do now.” She looks at me pointedly. “Why are you here, Wyatt?” “Disappointed to see me?” She bares her teeth. “Every damn time.”

“Your sister wanted to come.” As I get closer, her delicate scent of smoke and spice fills my space. “Bullshit,” she hisses. “Don’t you dare blame my sister.” Her red lips purse as she shoots a quick glance at our table. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want any of you here.”

The anger, the worry over her, gets the best of me. I can’t contain it. Bitterness builds again. I lean in. “Do you know how goddamn worried everyone was when you took off? Dakota cried for weeks. She—” “Don’t,” Fallon orders, wild-eyed. “I don’t want to hear what I missed. How big Duke is, that Lainie doesn’t even know me, what everyone else has done since I’ve been gone. I don’t want to hear any of it.” “Why?” I push. “Because,” she snaps, “it pisses me off. And you know what else pisses me off? You.”

She throws her next words like they’re grenades. “I don’t want to argue with you. In fact, I don’t even know why you’re here. You have your school. You have your life. So why are you here, busting my fucking balls before my big ride tomorrow?”

I take a step closer, towering over her. “That ain’t you, cowgirl. Playin’ dress up.” I glance over at Pappy, who’s on his phone. “I know you’d rather snap his fat neck than take orders from a man.” She snarls. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me anymore.” I flinch. “You’re right, I don’t. Because you left.” “I took a time-out.” “And that time-out lasted a year?” For a long second, she’s silent. She holds my gaze, her expression unreadable. Then she says, “It was either leave, or walk into the Pacific with rocks in my pockets.”

Voice thick, I manage to ask, “Do you like it here at least?” Even though her leaving tore my heart out, I need her to be happy. If she wasn’t, that’d just feel worse. She hesitates. “I do. It stops the voices in my head from getting too loud.” I cover her hand, rings of turquoise, her bright, bold tattoos. Surprise crossing her face, she tenses, but she doesn’t pull away. My thumb brushes over the delicate bone in her wrist before settling over her tattooed knuckles. Electricity zips between us. Our gazes clash. Hell, if we lock eyes for longer than seven seconds, we’re either fighting or fucking. Right now, I’d take either.

Ooop

It’s been three hundred days since I last touched her, and I’ve been going crazy for every single one of them.

Chancing my own death, I trace a finger over her high cheekbone. The feel of her is enough to unravel me. “I missed your face like hell, Trouble.” The old nickname makes her flush, and she tries to step away, but I hold tight. “Don’t call me that.” I ignore her. “Come home.” “For Dakota?” “No. For me,” I rasp, deciding to be honest. Anger and something like pain flare in her eyes. “If you wanted me home, you had your chance.” I frown. “What are you—” “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but I see you already have one.”

Aww!!

I curse under my breath at the interruption.