Chapter 4 Riley

“ Y ou’ll check it out?” Delilah drops her question like a test balloon, waiting to see if I’ll bite.

I sigh. “Yes, I’ll check it out.”

“Great! I just sent you the details. Please send me pictures once you’re there.”

An address pops onto my screen as I consider, yet again, how something has shifted. Once upon a time, the prospect of attending a charity event auctioning off a bunch of hunky cowboys would have filled me with glee. Now, I just wonder if I can get in and get out without rustling up too much attention.

I slip into a red floral wrap dress and a pair of white leather cowboy boots that my cousin Darren handcrafted for me years ago. They’re worn in all the right places and I swear they feel as soft as a pair of Uggs.

“ Mija , where are you going?” My dad rounds the corner, back in the house after a long day of checking on our latest yield. His hands are worn from hours in the sun and his eyes – still warm despite the bags underneath them – hold a mixture of empathy and concern.

“Oh, just a work thing, trying to do some recruitment for the show. I should be back soon – do you need anything while I’m out?”

“No no, I’m okay. But it’s almost nine PM! They’re sending you somewhere now? You work too hard, mija. ”

I smile gently at the person I inherited that intense work ethic from. When I shared my dreams with my parents, they hadn’t been happy, but eventually, they had come around. Even so, sometimes I still think I’m trying to prove to them that I can have the life they want me to have – and also support them in the lives they deserve to lead, as well.

“No, Dad – you work hard. I’m fine, don’t worry about me. You know I’m the one calling the shots, so this is basically all self-inflicted anyway.”

My dad shakes his head. “Okay, have fun. But tomorrow let’s go for a long drive without those cellphones, okay?”

“Deal.”

As I’m heading out the front door, Darren’s car pulls up.

“D!” I exclaim, giving my cousin a big hug.

“Smiley Riley! Welcome back. I was just coming over to convince Tía to give my tamales recipe a chance – you sticking around for dinner?”

“Ugh, I have to go do this work thing.” It comes out more exasperated than I mean it to.

Darren pauses. “You don’t sound that excited about it, Ri. Everything okay with work?”

“Honestly, Darren, I feel a little lost. I’ve spent so much time working towards this kind of stability.” I feel guilty as the words come out. My family, including Darren, have worked this ranch for generations – weathering the uncertainties and challenges day in and day out. My line of work seems frivolous by comparison.

Darren nodded. “Ri, you’re killing it. Look, we’re all so proud of you. I know coming home always dredges up those old feelings.”

I think of Alex and my heart beats out an erratic staccato.

“But – and I’m just putting this out there – it’s also okay to want a change. You don’t have to hold on to this just to show us that you can. Or just to show yourself you can.”

I smile. “Thanks, D. By the way, I’m headed to that cowboy date auction – are you sure you don’t want to sign up as a contestant? I feel like some lucky Bandera lady would gladly scoop you up.”

“Hmm sounds enticing, but the only date I’m looking forward to is with Zorro. He has expensive taste – eats like a bull – but once that’s taken care of he’s pretty content to just laze around.”

“You guys are a match made in heaven,” I laugh. “Hey, remember that film I made back in college about the generations of Zorros that have been part of Flores Ranch? That was so much fun to make, even though I had no idea what I was doing.”

“You figured it out pretty quickly though. My mom still has your Central Texas Young Filmmakers prize for documentary short up on our fridge. I’m biased, but I thought it was pretty great.”

It was great. Honestly, it’s been such a long time since I focused on a story like that. “Thanks, D. That’s nice of you to say. See you at dinner on Sunday?”

“You bet, cuz. Best of luck sizing up the cowboys!”

A short drive later, I pull into the VFW hall. Inside, folding chairs are set up around tables and a gaggle of women are gathered at the bar, buzzing as they grab glasses of wine. The familiar smell of wood polish hits me as I grab a seat at a small table in the corner, next to two older ladies poring over a clipboard of eligible men.

“Quite a selection today!” One of them cackles and turns to me.

“Looking for a date, sweetie?”

“Oh no thanks, I’m just here to watch.”

“Aren’t we all! No shame in that.” She cackles again and turns to her friend. “Which one are you most excited about, Minerva?”

Minerva points to the men, lined up against the far wall. A who’s who of Bandera’s eligible bachelors, muscular and sturdy, wait their turn in their ten gallons and boots.

I scan the line, searching for someone who would be a fit for our upcoming season. And then I see him.

Alex. He stands slightly distinct from the others – more lean than burly, wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a flannel shirt under an impeccably fitted leather jacket. He’s turned to the side, and I take in the sharp cut of his jawline, a singular vein in his muscular neck setting my stomach aflutter.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the First Annual Ride a Cowboy, Save a Horse Charity Auction!” Sally, the event organizer kicks off. “All proceeds tonight go to a charity of the cowboy’s choosing.”

The first contestant would be a great candidate for the show – a new-to-town rancher with just the right amount of boyish good looks and cheesy one-liners. But my brain isn’t thinking about work.

All I can focus on is Alex. Just as he steps on stage he catches my eye and his cheeks flush ever so slightly. He recovers though, turning on that celebrity chef smolder as he faces the audience.

“Alright ladies, we’ve got a special first-timer here. You might recognize him from Texas Monthly’s Hottest Chefs edition, though these days he’s reinventing the meaning of locally sourced up at the family ranch. Alex’s charity is Potstirrers, an after-school program for elementary school kids here in Bandera that introduces them to cooking basics. Let’s start the bidding!”

“Oooh, what a charmer,” Minerva whispers next to me. “He reminds me of the star of my favorite soap.”

“$50!” exclaims a voice from the other side of the room.

“It’s on!” exclaims Minerva as she puts up her paddle. “$100!”

“$200!” Shouts another voice.

“Baby, you look good enough to eat,” drawls a bidder with a big blonde Texas hairdo, and everyone including Alex laughs.

“Now, now,” he says teasingly. “I can be an acquired taste.” He locks eyes with me and breaks out a crooked half-smile. I can feel the heat licking up the back of my neck.

“$350!” The room is worked up now.

“Oh, what the hell,” Minerva exclaims. “$400!”

Alex runs his strong hands through his hair and the thick black strands fall back into place, swooping across his forehead. I used to watch him do it hundreds of times, my breath catching slightly at every instance. Seeing him do it again, here – something inexplicable comes over me.

“$1000!” I yell out. I’m so tired of the years and the unsaid things and the careers keeping us apart. If anyone gets a night with Alex, it’s me.

A hush falls over the room as the ladies turn around and stare at me. Minerva whistles. “Honey, you can have him. Y’all have fun now.”

Sally looks around. “Anyone else? If not, it’s a done deal! $1000 should go a long way towards buying some quality kid-sized cookware.”

My heart pounds as Alex makes his way toward me, a dark flicker in his eyes. The laughs and clinks of the event around us fade away as he stops in front of me, just inches away.

I push my chair away from the table and stand up. “Looks like you’re coming home with me, cowboy.”