“You got a crush, big guy? Sorry to tell you, but she’s taken,” I state.
Brutus tilts his head to the side, and I swear he’s trying to figure out how to get through the fence.
“Okay, okay.” Crawford straightens up, still chuckling, and grabs a big bucket from nearby. “Let me go calm him down before he has a heart attack.”
He carries the bucket into the paddock—Brutus tracks his movement but doesn’t charge—and dumps the contents into a wooden feeding bay. Brutus hesitates, clearly torn between his desire to murder me and his desire for food.
Food wins.
He moves to the bay and starts eating, though he keeps shooting me dirty looks between mouthfuls.
Farmer Crawford comes back out and latches the gate behind him. “Tell you what,” he says to me. “If you come by every day before the event, it might help him get used to you. Make the ride a little less deadly.”
“Appreciate it.” I shake his hand. “Thanks for letting him compete.”
Crawford snorts like it’s nothing. “Hell, I’m just glad someone’s brave enough to try.” His grin widens. “Good luck, son. You’re going to need it.”
The sky is streaked pink and orange by the time we climb back into the Mustang. I start the engine and pull out, tires crunching on the gravel as the farm falls behind us and the main road opens up ahead.
June goes quiet for a minute, eyes on the rolling fields.
Then she turns to me. “You’re really going to do this, aren’t you? Ride him.”
“Yeah.” I glance over, catching the worry in her face. “Does that bother you?”
“It terrifies me.” She doesn’t soften it, doesn’t joke it off. “He looked at you like he wanted to tear you apart, Kai.”
“Most bulls do,” I say. “That’s the job.”
“This felt different.”
“Maybe.” I reach over and rub my thumb over her knuckles, because I can feel her tension sitting right under her skin. “But I’ve been around bulls my whole life. I know what they do right before they blow. I know what the shift looks like when they’re about to try to kill you. Brutus is mean, but mean doesn’t scare me. Mean is predictable.”
Her gaze stays on me, sharp, like she’s trying to decide if I’m full of it.
“I don’t take stupid risks. Not anymore.”
That gets a tiny change in her expression. Not relief, not yet, but she hears me.
“And,” I say, letting the corner of my mouth lift, “now I know his weakness.”
She blinks. “What’s that?”
“You.” I look at her long enough to make her cheeks warm. “He clocked you the second you walked up. Tried to act like he didn’t. He did.”
She frowns. “That’s not comforting.”
“It should be.” My grip tightens just a little, a reminder. “I’ll keep you out of his way at the event. You can be near, but not close enough for him to get ideas.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re talking like you’re in charge.”
“I am in charge of my ride.” I pause, then add, more bluntly, “And keep you safe while I do it.”
June exhales like she wants to argue, but her fingers curl around mine instead. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” I say, and my gaze slides to her mouth before I force it back to the road. “You still like me.”
She makes a disbelieving sound, but I catch the twitch at the corner of her lips.
