Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Do you ever go to the rodeo?” Crow asked.
“Never been! I want to go though. I just never have,” Mary replied, bright-eyed.
Crow hadn’t been asking her, but I did not want her to know that. When he didn’t reply, I knew he was waiting on my answer.
I looked at Mary. “You should put that on a to-do list. Then, make yourself check it off when you do it. That way, you’ll get around to it. I work best with checklists.”
Then, I turned my gaze to Crow, not missing the amusement in his eyes at my attempt to keep that from being awkward or embarrassing for Mary.
“I’ve not been in a while,” I told him. “It’s been about a year.” I left out that it had also been with my dead ex and the night he met Halo. Something I had forced Gathe to tell me when no one else would.
“How do you feel about bull riding?” he asked.
I swung my gaze to Mary. “What about you? Ever watched bull riding on television?”
She pushed her glasses up her nose. “I watched this series on Netflix. Loved it! It was called Wildfire. Anyway, there is a character that comes in as a love interest of one of the main characters for a season. He’s a bull rider. I watched him, but”—she made a pained face—“he got killed on one of those bulls. I cried for a solid hour after.”
That was not what I had expected. I did my best to keep my face neutral and not smile. “That’s, uh, tragic,” I replied.
“It was!” She seemed truly upset over it.
I turned to Crow, who wasn’t covering up his amusement. I had a right mind to stomp his foot. He had better not laugh at her.
“I think it’s exciting, but then I’ve never seen anyone killed riding one before, so…” I told him.
“Neither has she. It was a TV show.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, and he ducked his head to hide his grin.
When he composed himself, he looked at me. “What about going with me on Friday night? I won’t be on it too long, and I promise not to die.”
I had been picking up the roll on my plate and paused. Was he asking me out?
“You ride bulls?!” Mary almost shouted.
This time, Crow wasn’t amused. His eyes stayed locked on me. What did I say?
“Sounds like the exciting table.”
Jude’s voice startled me, and my gaze snapped off Crow to see Jude watching me.
“Oh, it is. Father, did you know Crow rode bulls?” Mary’s amazement made me think perhaps Crow should have asked her out.
“I believe I’ve heard it mentioned,” Jude said.
I was staring down at my plate now. Not sure where to look. My mac and cheese was currently what I was studying.
“He invited Saylor to go watch him,” Mary announced.
Thank you, Mary. I was tempted to kick her under the table, but then she’d probably ask me why right in front of everyone.
“You’ll have to tell us all about it next Saturday,” Mary told me.
I hadn’t agreed yet. But she’d missed that small detail. I gave her a tight smile and took a quick peek at Jude, who was eating, but not looking at me. Sibby sat down beside him and whispered something quietly to him, drawing his attention away.
It was rude not to respond to Crow, and there was no reason for me not to go. Friday night, I’d probably be with Gathe, doing the same thing. As much as I’d like to be with Jude, that wouldn’t happen. Ever.
“That sounds like fun,” I told him before taking a bite of the mac and cheese and tasting nothing.
Every nerve in my body, including my taste buds, was solely focused on Jude. But he didn’t glance my way once.
Twenty-Five
Saylor
The rest of the meeting, I couldn’t even say Jude treated me like everyone else. He acknowledged them. I might as well have been invisible.
Sunday, I worked on my tan and managed to read an entire book. It was a romance, and the sex scenes helped fuel my imagination since there was none of that happening in my life, but I read every last word. The only pages I read more than once were the explicit ones.
Jude texted me at ten p.m.
Jude:
Are you awake?
I didn’t respond.
Monday, Sister Mena tried not to smile when I walked in the door, but I saw it. She wasn’t fooling me. The caramel vanilla cappuccino I brought her with two different cake pops only made her love for me grow. I broke down boxes, hauled them to recycle, discussed the space for the food pantry with Sister Mena, who was much more agreeable—thank you, Starbucks—and got the hell out of there at four before Mena locked up and left.
No late-night texts.
Today, I decided that I was going to shake off my feelings. I was playing some stupid game with a priest. We weren’t being anything remotely close to friends. He had gotten me to come back, and now, there was some weirdness, and I didn’t know the rules. Sister Mena wasn’t here on Tuesdays, which meant I had to deal with the fact that Jude could show up at any time and I’d be alone. If he asked me why I’d ignored his text, I would be honest. I hadn’t wanted to. Okay, well, that was a lie. I had wanted to, but I was pissed.