Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
The announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, introducing the first event. The crowd cheers. Cowboys and cowgirls begin warming up in the arena below.
I sit rigid beside Calder, every muscle in my body screaming to run. Not away from Calder, not anymore, but away from the staring and the whispers and the words. The performance of this stretches ahead of me for hours.
“Relax,” Calder murmurs. “You look terrified.”
“I am terrified.”
“Then fake it better.” His voice hardens slightly. “Because everyone’s watching.”
I force my shoulders down. Unclench my hands. Try to arrange my face into something that doesn’t look like pure fear. It’s only at this moment, when faced with the reality of Roman Bishop, that I realize I should never have feared Calder over him.
Time passes in a blur. Barrel racing, then team roping. The crowd cheers and boos. Vendors walk up and down the aisles selling beer and popcorn. Beside me, Calder keeps up the act, his hand on my knee, occasionally pointing something out, leaning close to whisper comments that probably look intimate but are really just reminders to smile.
Then his phone buzzes.
He pulls it out and frowns at the screen. “I need to take this. Stay here.”
“Where are you—”
“Just stay here.” His voice is firm, brooking no argument. “Don’t move. Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be right back.”
He disappears down the bleachers, phone already pressed to his ear. I sit there alone, hyperaware of the people around me, of the stares and whispers that never quite stop. My hands twist in the fabric of the sundress as anxiety builds in my chest. If I had my freaking phone, I could at least scroll or look a little less awkward.
“Hey there, sister-in-law.”
I look up to find Levi Bishop sliding into the seat Calder just vacated. There’s dust on his chaps and a streak of dirt across his jaw, but he’s grinning like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Levi.” I glance toward where Calder disappeared. “I’m not supposed to talk to anyone.”
“I’m not anyone. I’m family.” He stretches his long legs out, completely at ease. “Besides, my brother can’t keep you on lockdown every second. You look like you could use some company. And maybe a drink.”
“I don’t—”
“Come on. Let me buy you a shot. Call it a belated wedding present.” His grin widens. “Unless the preacher’s daughter doesn’t drink?”
There’s a challenge in his voice, but it’s playful. Not like Calder’s challenges. More like he’s testing me, trying to figure out who I really am beneath the perfect daughter exterior.
“One drink,” I say.
“That’s the spirit.” He stands, offering his hand. “Literally.”
Against my better judgment, I take it. His hand is calloused like Calder’s, but his grip is gentler. Less possessive. He guides me down the bleachers and toward one of the concession stands with a small bar set up near the back.
“Two whiskeys,” Levi tells the bartender. “Top shelf. We’re celebrating.”
The bartender, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes, looks between us with obvious curiosity. “Celebrating what?”
“My brother’s marriage to this beautiful woman.” Levi’s arm comes around my shoulders, easy and casual. “Though he’s doing a piss-poor job of showing her a good time, don’t ya think? He didn’t even bring her to the bar.” He winks. “That’s alright, cause I stole her away myself.”
The bartender smiles and pours two generous shots. Levi slides one toward me, raising his own in a toast.
“To new beginnings,” he says. “And to surviving the Bishop family. Which, let me tell you, is no small feat.”
I stare at the amber liquid, at the way the overhead light catches it. Part of me knows I shouldn’t take the shot. Knows Calder will be angry if he finds out. But another part of me, the part that’s been locked away and terrified and completely powerless for over a week, wants to feel something other than fear. I want to take back control, power. I want to be me.
I pick up the shot glass and throw it back.
The whiskey burns a path of fire down my throat that’s harsh and smoky, but I don’t cough. Thankfully.
When I set the glass down, Levi’s staring at me with undisguised surprise.
“Well, shit.” He laughs, a genuine sound that loosens the tightness in my chest. “Something tells me Calder has no idea the type of woman you are.”
“None of you know anything about me.”
“You’re right. We don’t.” He signals for another round. “But I’d like to change that. I’d like to know the real you, the woman standing in front of me with a steel spine and fire in her eyes. Not the version of you that my brother’s been parading around.”
The second shot arrives quickly, and we toss them back together. Again, warmth encompasses my chest, dulling the sharp edges of fear and anger that have been a constant companion since Calder took me.