1. CHAPTER BULL
“Tell me I’m not drunk enough to be seeing lipstick and sneakers in this goddamn wasteland bar.”
Rick didn’t even look up from the glass he was drying with a worn-out rag.
“Nope, you’re seeing it. And for a guy who’s been nursing whiskey for three hours, that’s impressively specific. Shame she’s not your type.”
I took a slow sip.
“I don’t have a type anymore.” And I meant it.
That made him glance up.
“Honestly? Didn’t think Hope’s engagement would hit you this hard.”
I snorted.
“What engagement?”
Then slid my glass back toward him.
“Pour it again… Perfectly fine over here.”
Honestly? I was getting real tired of everyone in Dalmore having an opinion about how I was supposed to feel. Just because my ex upgraded me to the sheriff, didn’t mean I had to fall apart. I’d moved on. Hell, I’d dated plenty since we broke up. Anyway, I don’t need emotional-support girls.
That’s whenshemoved.
Didn’t say a word, didn’t pause. Just peeled off her jacket, tied back her hair, and walked straight toward the bull like she’d been waiting her whole life to pick a fight with it.
Rick nudged me from behind the bar.
“Think she’s here for the bull?”
“She’s not even dressed to fall off. Tight jeans, that show-off crop top,” I muttered, but kept watching. The kind of trouble I didn’t need, but my eyes sure as hell didn’t get the memo.
And then—without asking, without stalling—she walked right up to the bull.
The way she walked… God. My brain said “don’t,” but the rest of me was already halfway gone.
I wanted to take back my thought—maybe I could make an exception for those support girls after all.
I could barely swallow.
Bit my tongue—though I’d rather have been biting hers.
What am I even doing here? I really gave up on every woman. All of them. But I sure as hell couldn’t let my brain wander to whatever I’d do with her in the barn.
I needed another drink just to numb myself enough so it wouldn’t even cross my mind to take anyone home.
Tossed my glass across the bar top again.
I didn’t plan the evening. Just dropped in for a beer and maybe to watch some idiots get thrown off Rick’s freshly fixed mechanical bull. The thing had been broken for months, and now that it was back in action, everyone wanted a piece of it. Including Rick—who, by the way, was already three shots in and talking shit behind the bar.
She climbed on, laughed and looked so goddamn confident, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. And Jesus, her laugh. Warm and dangerous. The kind that gets under your shirt if you’re not careful.
And the second she settled in, half the bar started placing bets.
I don’t know what possessed me. Maybe the whiskey. Maybe the way her confidence pissed me off just enough. Maybe the way she didn’t even glance in my direction.
