She glances over her shoulder, then marches down the steps before turning back to us. “I’ve gotta keep my man satisfied, or those touchy-feely fangirls of his will try to get their hands on him.”
I scoff. “Fangirls?”
“Yep.”
“That ugly SOB doesn’t have any fangirls.”
Charli barks out a laugh. “Sure he doesn’t.”
“He doesn’t,” I call after her.
Bryce Raintree is many things. World champion. Rodeo legend. Former playboy. But the man is also completely devoted to my beautiful cousin.
I point toward him. “You’ve got that guy so thoroughly whipped that he wouldn’t notice another woman if she was standing buck naked in front of him.”
Charli winks. “Then I guess I’m doing my job.”
That gets a laugh out of me.
And surprisingly, out of Jovie too.
The sound catches my attention. My eyes shift toward her.
She’s shaking her head.
“What?” I ask.
She raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been to enough rodeos in my lifetime to know exactly what kind of fangirls she’s talking about.”
“What? Buckle bunnies?”
She nods. “Exactly.”
I grin.
She points toward Bryce. “And I’m sure they’re all over him. Those girls are shameless.”
I laugh.
She’s not wrong. Buckle bunnies are a rare breed. Girls who magically become interested the second somebody wins a buckle, a purse, lands a major sponsorship, or even gets their picture on a poster. We’ve all enjoyed their attention for a night. Every rodeo rider has.
Even me.
It’s practically its own sport.
“Buckle bunnies are no match for Charli Storm,” I say.
Jovie glances toward the path.
Toward Charli.
And then both of us watch as she catches up to Bryce.
Without hesitation, she launches herself onto his back, and he catches her automatically. Like he’s done it a thousand times before. Her legs wrap around his waist, and his hands lock beneath her thighs. And while she peppers his neck with kisses, he keeps walking, like carrying her is the most natural thing in the world.
Jovie watches them go until they disappear around the path.
A soft smile touching her lips.
