He shook his head, a sheepish smile spreading.
‘I’m gonna get back on a bull,’ he said, searching out my reaction. ‘It’s been a year or so, but . . . I don’t know. Been thinking about it for a little while and kinda confirmed it when we saw my mom last weekend. I miss it. Not sure I’m ready for it to be nothing but a memory just yet.’
As though from nowhere, horror engulfed me, shock and fear morphing into anger before I could stop it.
‘Because you don’t want the story of your first rodeo to be the one they tell? You want the story of how you were fucking trampled to death after you finally snapped your neck for good?’
His mouth opened in surprise, and he leant back slightly to assess my expression.
‘Hestia, it’s not—’
‘Don’t fucking patronize me,’ I snapped. I knew I was straying into overreaction territory, but the fear . . . the image of him lying in the dirt . . . ‘I’m no expert, but I know that shit is dangerous. Beyond dangerous. Fucking suicidal.’
My hands closed into fists on the reins, Penny reading it as a signal to slow down. Realizing, I released them, gently nudging her with my heels as Jesse had shown me earlier. She obliged without complaint.
‘Shit, I didn’t realize . . .’ he began, seemingly baffled by my anger. ‘Honestly – and hear me out, okay? I know it’s risky, I do. But I’ve learnt a lot since my last season. I know what mistakes I made and how I’d do it different now.’
I gritted my teeth, trying to listen to him but also rationalizing why I felt the way I did.
‘Why?’ I asked, still struggling to get a grip on the part of me that wanted to fucking slap him, force him to see sense. ‘Are you bored at the ranch? Not enough life-threatening action going on?’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘Other than missing the circuit, the people and some of my friends still in it . . .’ he began – and for one awful moment the thought of all the women, the buckle bunnies, entered my mind. ‘The money can be really good. I don’t want to get rich; I just want to be able to buy my own place, help my mom pay for her medication. The stuff she’s taking is really helping, her doctor says it buys her another couple years maybe, but it’s hundreds of dollars a month. She can’t really afford it, and me and my sisters help . . . but it’d let me sleep easier at night if I knew I could pay for it for as long as she needed.’
His words doused my flames.
‘Oh . . . right,’ I replied, closing my eyes for a moment and shaking my head.
Frowning, he pulled Jasper closer still, our legs almost touching.
‘Why does it bother you so much?’ he murmured, trying to search my face, hidden below the brim of my hat.
I swallowed hard, knowing I owed him an explanation but needing to hold back from the raw truth.
‘Because I care,’ I said, fixing him with a direct look that I knew would be hard to hold. ‘Because the thought of your head smashed open . . . having to tell your mum . . .’
‘Hey, hey,’ he said, reaching out and taking my hand in his. ‘Plenty of riders get injured, but that’s why there are wranglers in there. It’s rare to get more than a broken bone, okay? And it sucks, but they mend.’
I took a deep breath.
‘Can’t I just bribe Lottie to give you a pay rise?’ I offered, the pressure in my head easing as he gave a soft laugh. He gave my hand a last squeeze before centring himself in his saddle again.
‘Bribe her with what?’ he asked, rewarding my sideways glance with a mischievous half-smile.
‘I don’t know . . . releasing sex tapes, something on those lines,’ I replied, matching his chuckle with a shaky laugh as the anger gently ebbed away.
‘You’re pure fire, aren’t you, honey?’ he said, his look so familiar, soaffectionate, that I turned away.
‘The eternal fucking flame,’ I said wryly. Then, pointing to the flames on my neck, ‘You were warned.’
We wound on and up through the pastures, Jesse expertly steering our conversation to safer ground. Voluminous clouds drifted across the sun from time to time, giving temporary shade, but despite the ever-fresh mountain air, it was relentlessly hot.
By the time we reached the cookout spot a half hour later, everyone except Lottie and Cole – shaded and effort-free on the wagon – was melting. There was a stone-built firepit area surrounded by log benches, several long, rustic wooden tables fixed down into the earth, and a small wooden hut – averyrustic bathroom – near the treeline. The creek wound behind that, glinting like molten glass when the sun re-emerged, its slow flow creating a stress-melting rush of white noise.
As Bailey led some of the guests over to the creek, offering up a swim, I helped Lottie offload the supplies from the wagon, including the food prep tables.
I looked up as Cole approached, a primal expression on his face. Jesse was smiling in the background, clearly in on something.
