She just really wasn’t a big drinker.

“Sure. What kind?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. That helps me make a decision.”

He went over to the bar, and she sat down at one of the little tables in the corner. He came back a few moments later with two beers, one in each hand.

“How did me not knowing tell you anything?”

“I got you something easy. Something friendly. Since clearly if you don’t know what you’re drinking, you don’t have a lot of experience with the drinking. So...mainstream it is.”

“Are you insulting me?” she asked, drawing the glass toward her.

“Not at all. I’m giving you something accessible.”

“Out of deference to my inexperience?”

He cleared his throat and took a drink of his beer. And far too late she realized the potential double entendre with that. Of course, he didn’t know how inexperienced she was. Anyway, her experience, or lack thereof, when it came to things other than beer was immaterial to this moment and this conversation.

“What exactly are we doing?” she asked, lifting her glass up and taking a sip. Damn him. It was good.

“Having a beer.”

“It’s just... You have a reputation.”

“That I do. Though, you’re going to have to tell me which one you mean. Because I have a reputation for being a very good bull rider, as it happens. Maybe you missed it, but I’m in first place right now.”

“I didn’t miss it. And that isn’t the reputation I’m referring to.”

“You mean that I like to have a one-night stand. Many, many of the people who travel with the rodeo do.”

“Right. Well. I don’t.”

“Great. Good to know.”

“So why are you talking to me?”

“Why are you talking to me? Because as you said, I have a reputation. You seem to know it...”

“I don’t know why I am talking to you. It’s just that I wanted to.”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you too. I can’t say that I know why either.” He huffed a laugh and took another drink of his beer. “I’ll just tell you, I’ve known what I was doing for a long damn time. I joined the rodeo when I was eighteen. I knew that I wanted to be the best. I knew I wanted to win. I have won it all. Several times. I knew that was my goal. I achieved it. On a smaller scale... I tend to know what I want out of a given day. I knew what I was going to do tonight. I was going to leave the arena, I was going to come to this bar. I was going to go over there,” he said, gesturing to the corner where there was a jukebox, and a gaggle of women dressed to the nines, their hair done up, their best push-up bras doing admirable work.

“I was going to strike up a conversation with one of those women, and we would’ve both known from the very beginning exactly where that conversation was going. We’d have had sex. Sorry. But it’s true. I would’ve said goodbye, and she would’ve been on her way.” He shrugged. “Yeah. I usually know exactly what I’m doing. I have no idea what I’m doing right now. No idea what’s happening here. And I guess maybe that’s part of why I like it. Why I’m interested. Because you ran into me... And changed the course of my evening. I think I’d have to be a particular kind of fool not to see where that went.”

“It won’t be bed.”

“You’ve been very clear on that. And I have no interest in pushing.”

She sat with that for a minute. Did that mean that he would have liked her that way if she’d said she wanted it? She had never been particularly flattered by the attentions of cowboys. In fact, just the opposite. Her mother had always made it very clear that cowboys had absolutely no standards. “Darlin’,” she’d said. “Men will stick it in the hole of a hollow tree. Don’t you ever let yourself feel flattered because they want to put it in you.”

She knew that it came from a place of protectiveness. A little rough around the edges though it was. Darlene Martin was rough around the edges. It was part of what Tansey loved about her.

Her mom had taught her how to arm herself, protect herself, where she hadn’t been able to do the same. Tansey was appreciative of that. She learned all of her mother’s lessons, so she didn’t have to learn her own.

If she wasn’t careful, a man like Flint Carson could be a very difficult lesson.

But you know better. And this is just a conversation.

“What are your dreams?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “You want to win it all in the rodeo?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed. But... My dad is Huck Jones.”

He frowned. “I know that name.”

“Yeah. He’s done roping and a few other events, plus general setup and teardown work, with the rodeo for a long time. I got into the rodeo to be closer to him. To find him again. Because I was a kid when he left and...”

“Taillights,” he said.

“Yeah. And I guess I thought that I was going to change something. Redeem something, fix something by finding him. But you know what? He’s never around. Even though I tried coming to him, I haven’t ever encountered him. He hasn’t been competing. I... I thought at least he would see me, and he would want to get to know me. If I was doing something that interested him. I thought that I would matter. I thought that I would matter more. I really did. I guess I thought maybe the hearth-and-home thing wasn’t for him, but if I took myself out on the road...”

“Right. Well. What a prick.”

And that made her laugh. “Thanks for that. I think so too.”

Except it hurt. It hurt a lot. And there was a reason she didn’t go around just talking about this, but it was such a strange thing. To be sitting here like this with him. She had felt like she didn’t want to leave his side from the moment she fell against him. This felt natural. And maybe that was why she felt compelled to ask him what it was they were doing. Because it shouldn’t feel natural. Not to her, not to him.

They shouldn’t just want to sit and talk to each other with no ulterior motives. In this world, in any world, it didn’t seem to be a thing as far as she could tell.

And yet.

“What else? You didn’t say that your dream was to win big here.”

“I enjoy barrel racing. But no. It’s not my dream.”

“What’s your dream?” he asked.

“I... I just recorded a demo. I... I want to be a singer. Well, I’m a songwriter. Really. And if what I end up doing is selling songs, that’s fine too. It’s okay if I don’t actually end up being famous or anything like that.” Except she kind of did want to be famous. She kind of did want to show him. She wanted to buy her mom a big house and end up on TV. She wanted to force him to see exactly what he’d walked away from. He acted like she was an anchor. Something that was dragging him down, holding him back.

She wanted to prove that she would’ve been the thing that got him ahead.

Better than he could do for himself.

Maybe that was bitter and toxic. But she couldn’t help herself.

“Well. They do say the best revenge is living well,” he said.