‘Well, I guess it’s good you’ve got me to fill in the blanks.’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’ She sips her beer. When she replaces it on the table, her fingertip stays on the glass, running down the condensation on the sides as though she’s trying to curtail her need to grab a pen. ‘And you’ve got a sister.’
‘Cass. She’s just graduated from college. Reckon she’ll spend a year or so back home. Things are getting busy there now. Beth and Cole have got all kinds of plans—they’re gonna need us to pull together.’
A wistful expression crosses her face. ‘So, your long-term plan is to go back and work there?’
Ice spreads through me when I imagine leaving this behind. ‘Can’t ride bulls forever.’ I don’t even bother to hide the tone in my voice. Why should I? Leaving this is going to kill a part of me.
‘No,’ she agrees. ‘I guess most athletes have a bit of a shelf life. Except maybe golfers. You could try that next?’
I grin, just imagining it.
‘I mean, I know it’s a little tamer …’
‘A little?’
‘But I did a piece on a pro player last year—there’s a lot of money in it, and he seemed pretty happy.’
‘I’ll keep it in mind, Bailey James,’ I lie. We both know golf isn’t for me. Nothing else is. What could compare to the feeling of going head to head with a bastard of a bull—and winning? It’s damn near spiritual. In that moment, when I’m being bucked but holding on for dear life, I know what it is to be truly powerful.
‘So sports journalism is your thing, huh?’
She pulls a face. ‘If you say so.’
‘No?’
The waiter returns with a big-ass bowl of fries, liberally doused in seasoning. He places it down with a lingering look at Bailey, reminding me that I’m not the only one who sees how pretty she is. Except it’s so much more than just looks with her. I wish I had her gift with words, ’cause then I could explain it. But it’s her attitude, her brain, her determination. It’s all … compelling.
‘Thanks,’ I halfway snap when the waiter just stands there ogling. A flush creeps up his cheeks before he turns and walks away.
‘You didn’t have to yell at him,’ she chides, reaching out and grabbing a few fries.
‘I thought he might be makin’ you uncomfortable.’
She arches a brow, all sceptical and hot. ‘Is that what you thought?’
Well, fuck me if she’s not calling me on what I’m feeling. Does she really want to do that? Reckon we both know we’re playingwith fire here. One of us has to walk away, but I realise the second I speak that it won’t be me. ‘Fine, I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.’
Now it’s Bailey’s turn to blush, a light pink blooming in her face.
‘I guess you’re probably used to it.’
She shovels the fries into her mouth, clearly embarrassed. ‘Whatever,’ she says a second later, taking a sip of her drink.
‘You trying to tell me you don’t get hit on all the time?’
‘Hit on?’ She shakes her head. ‘I’m not some teenager going to clubs to pick up or whatever.’
‘But you do exist in the world, right? You must see the way guys react to you.’
‘Beau,’ she says, clearly trying to step back from the fire. Clever girl. I don’t care if I get burned anymore. I’m more comfortable calling a spade a spade and when it comes to women, rejection’s never been much of an issue for me. Truth be told, I can’t remember the last time I got shut down.
‘Bailey.’ I say her name back, with a flicker of heat. Her eyes widen and my gut twists hard. Anticipation, unmistakable, flares inside me.
‘This isn’t going to happen.’
‘What’s not going to happen?’
