I could do nothing but roll my eyes and grin at that news.
“Banks doesn’t like doing videos,” I admitted. “Banks doesn’t like doing interviews, period, actually. But he does them anyway out of obligation to his sponsors.”
“Oh!” the woman said. “My name is Jett. Actually, my full name is Jetty Brianne Socrates. But I go by Jett. I’m a wedding videographer mostly, but I branched out when I was asked by a friend to do this for the rodeo circuit. It’ll be my first real big thing outside of that.”
“You like weddings?” I asked, sensing that she was a little bit bitter about branching out. “You don’t want to do other things?”
“We have a special treat for everyone in the house tonight,” the announcer, a loud, boisterous man, boomed. “Who’s ready?”
I turned my head toward the massive jumbotron and watched, waiting in anticipation, as whatever was ‘special’ started to air.
I assumed it was Jett’s new ‘tidbits’ but I could be wrong.
Turns out, I was right.
It also turns out that I didn’t have the complete story from Jett.
Imagine that.
“And here’s your own national champion, Banks Valentine!” the man bawled.
My heart caught in my throat as Banks’ beautiful face filled the screen.
“Banks Valentine.” The video started with Banks saying his name and giving his stats. “Kilgore, Texas. Six foot three. Two hundred pounds.”
“How long have you been riding a bull, Banks?” I heard Jett’s familiar voice ask in the background.
“As long as I can remember.” He grinned, that legendary smirk making my heart rate speed up and my lower body clench.
“Where do you see yourself in ten years, Banks?” Jett asked.
My body swayed forward as I waited for his answer.
I would’ve expected him to say ‘a multi-time national bull riding champion.’
That was definitely not what I got.
Banks smile went lazy, and his eyes turned away from Jett to focus on the camera to her right.
“Well, that’s easy,” he said. “I see myself sitting on my front porch, holding my woman’s hand, watching a storm roll in.” He paused. “Sometimes, when I have this dream, I have a baby in my arms. Other times, my woman, Candy, has the baby in hers.”
I felt tears start to prick my eyes.
“You don’t see yourself riding bulls?” Jett asked.
Banks shook his head and returned his eyes to Jett.
“Nah,” he said. “I see myself spending time with my girl. With my baby. With my family.”
“Tell me about this girl then.” Jett leaned forward, the front of her face coming into the camera’s view. “She sounds special.”
I could feel the eyes starting to focus on me. However, every single bit of my attention was firmly placed on Banks now.
And not the television Banks.
The real Banks.
He was still on the fence, leaning over it. But his head was turned around and he was staring at me over his shoulder.
His eyes were shielded by his hat, but I knew that they were on me.
Knew that every single part of him was entirely focused on me.
“My girl’s name is Candy,” Banks said. “She’s been my obsession since we were in high school together. I thought, at one point in time, that we weren’t going to make it. But this year, she so graciously forgave me for being a jerk as a teenager and allowed me back into her life.”
“You love her,” Jett said, sounding sure.
“I love her with my whole heart,” Banks confirmed.
“I heard that things are pretty intense between the two of you,” Jett said. “The rodeo circuit is buzzing with the news. Banks Valentine, the heartthrob of the rodeo circuit, is officially off the market.”
Banks reached into his pocket and pulled something out.
I strained to see what it was, but something on the screen forced me to look up.
“I’m going to marry her,” Banks told Jett. “One day, she’s going to be Mrs. Banks Valentine.”
I gasped, my eyes going wide.
Banks pulled something out of his pocket on screen, and with the jumbotron I could more than make out a ring box.
“I’ve been riding with this in my pocket for weeks,” he said. “I’m just too chicken squawk to ask her.”
I laughed at Jett’s creative use of a profanity beep.
I dragged my eyes away from the screen, not wanting to see the ring that I knew he was about to open.
Instead, my eyes focused on Banks who was holding onto the fence with one hand.
The other had a little black box in it.
His eyes were solely focused on me as he lifted his hand and mimed throwing it.
I shook my head furiously.
“Don’t you dare, Valentine,” I ordered, saying the words even though I doubted he’d hear me.
Banks grinned wickedly, then tossed it.
I squeaked and stood up, catching the box out of desperation.
The box bobbled in my hands, but eventually I did catch it, and manage to bring it up to my chest with a gasp.