Mayfly Melodies

Twenty

Bailey

Of emotions, of love, of breakup, of love and hate and death and dying, mama, apple pie and the whole thing. It covers a lot of territory, country music does—Johnny Cash

They pulled up into a large grass field that had been converted into a parking lot for the Johnny Williams Memorial Classic Rodeo in Duncan, Oklahoma. There were trucks everywhere, towing trailers or carting around groups of competitors. Bailey watched as four guys, clad in jeans and long-sleeved button up shirts, hopped out of one huge forest green Ford.

Noah found a spot and pulled in. When they jumped out, he left his riding gear behind. His event wasn't for another couple of hours yet but they wanted the riders to be there ahead of time to sign in. She went with him as he registered and got his number—128—before they went to settle into the stands. The people running the rodeo had already paired each rider with a bull. Noah had drawn Louisville Slugger. She didn't know anything about the animal but Noah had grimaced at the name so she assumed it couldn't be good.

Bailey was worried that people would recognize her, especially because she still didn't know if Noah was aware of her stardom. They'd never discussed it, but that didn't mean that he didn't know. There were plenty of opportunities for him to have learned about it from people in town. Even a simple Google search would have done it. She knew that the time would come for her to talk about it with him — it was a time that was probably approaching more rapidly than she would like — but she was just hoping that that moment wouldn't come moments before he was set to settle himself upon a raging bull.

They watched a few rounds of the steer wrestling. Bailey couldn't help but wince when she saw the men throw themselves off of their horse and onto a rampant steer. One of the men, a large burly guy with red hair and a wide-toothed grin, caught a horn right to his shoulder. The entire crowd groaned with him and even though he got back to his feet and walked out of the pen with a half-hearted wave to the fans, Bailey could tell from the look on his face that he was in quite a lot of pain.

"And you think I'm suicidal," Noah murmured into her ear. She didn't have to look at him to know that he was smiling.

She looked over at him, saw the grin that was in his midnight blue eyes as well as on his lips. "I do, as a matter of fact. I think all of you are."

"Didn't you say that you used to compete?"

"Barrel racing," she pointed out. "Not nearly as dangerous as what you do."

Noah shrugged, completely unconcerned. "I'll get you on a bull one day, Bailey Grant."

"Good luck with that."

"I will."

"Uh-huh."

She turned forward again as the next rider got into the chute but wasn't really paying attention. Noah was still staring at her, humour all across his face. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her but she refused to give him the satisfaction of turning back. But when Noah reached out and placed his hand over hers, she didn't pull away. Instead, she turned her hand over, palm up, and let him to intertwine his fingers with her.

After a few more successful riders, and several vicious wipeouts, Bailey's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to see a message from Jake, asking if she and Noah had arrived yet. She typed quickly, assuring him that they had and asking where he, Travis, and their parents were waiting for the boys' events to start. At the last minute, Jake had entered into the bareback bronc competition. Travis was entered in both the saddle bronc riding and tie-down roping.