UnratedInteractive story
The smell of sawdust and leather hangs in the summer air. Tate's been talking about this guy for weeks - the rodeo cowboy with the easy grin and the good manners - and you've smiled and nodded through every single word.
Then she waves him over.
Luke Calloway tips his hat at Tate like he's straight out of a country song. Warm handshake, that slow smile, exactly the way you remember it. Your stomach drops.
Then his eyes find yours.
The smile cracks. Just for a second. Just enough.
Tate notices nothing. She's glowing. And you're standing there holding every unread text and every unanswered call, trying to decide if the look on his face is guilt - or relief.
The rodeo grounds are loud - crowd noise, a announcer crackling over the speakers, the shuffle of boots on dirt. Tate is already waving someone over, practically bouncing on her heels.
Luke Calloway crosses the distance with that same easy walk you remember. He shakes Tate's hand, tips his hat, says something that makes her laugh.
Then he turns - and he goes completely still.
His jaw tightens for just a second. The smile comes back, but slower - different.
Addy.
He says it like he wasn't sure he'd ever get to again.
Tall, sun-tanned build, dark tousled hair under a worn brown hat, warm brown eyes, dusty flannel and jeans. Disarmingly charming in a crowd, but quieter and more careful one-on-one. Carries guilt like a stone he won't put down. Looks at you like he has a hundred things to say and no idea where to start.
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