Page 107 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I glanced at her, shifting gears. “You good with dinner after?”

She took another sip of her beer, her eyes still locked on the arena. “Yeah, of course. I like seeing you happy. It suits you.”

I exhaled, watching the dirt settle. “I’ve learned that it’s not about moving to Texas or even the dirt, you know?” I admitted, turning my bottle between my hands. “It’s about feeling safe.”

Harleigh’s gaze flicked to mine, her expression softening.

“With Mike, I was never safe.” I continued. “I was always on edge, bracing for whatever he was going to say or do next. I thought I stayed because I loved him, but really? I was trying to build something. A family after mine had passed away. When someone convinces you that you’re so unlovable, you start to believe them.”

Harleigh’s fingers brushed mine for a second before she took another sip of beer. “You know that’s not true, right?”

“I’m starting to.”

My throat was tight as I watched Beau settle into the chute, his thick thighs locking around the bull. All he needed was an 88.25 to take the win. He was currently third in the world championship ranking, but a win tonight would put him in the second-place spot.

The energy in the arena shifted, the hum of the crowd dulling as he wrapped his rope around his gloved hand and pulled tonight. The camera panned to an older man behind him in the chute. I recognized him from when I fell the first night I met Beau, so that must’ve been his dad. Dalton was back there, pulling up on the rope.

Harleigh leaned in. “He’s a good guy, Fabs. He’s always been good. Works hard. Loves hard.”

I swallowed.

Loves hard.

I wasn’t sure why those words made my stomach flip, but suddenly, I was gripping my beer tighter, unable to take my eyes off him. Because if Beau Banks loved the way he rode—determined, fearless, like he had nothing to lose—then I was in a whole lot of trouble.

His gold helmet gleamed under the blinding arena lights, matching his signature chaps. Right before he nodded to the gate operator, he flicked his gaze to me—a quick nod, barely there. My breath caught.

And then⁠—

The chute burst open.

I shot to my feet as the entire arena roared.

“Go, Beau,” I cried, clenching the cold steel railing in front of me, knuckles white.

“Come on, baby,” I whispered under my breath.

The ride was flawless.

The bull kicked into perfect verticals, launching into the air and slamming down with a rhythm so controlled, it was hypnotic. Beau didn’t hold on—he rode. Moved with the animal like he was the bull. He sat right in the well, balanced, fluid, unshakable.

The buzzer blared.

Beau swung off, landing hard on his knees, then quickly made the sign of the cross over his chest.

Harleigh shrieked, jumping up beside me. “He did it.”

I turned to her, breathless, my smile stretching so wide it almost hurt. “He did it.”

The bullfighters corralled the animal back into the pen before I could even catch my breath. It all happened in a blur.

The announcer shouted that Beaudreau Banks had ridden a monster ride, which was a ride over ninety points with a solid 91.2.

He stood up from the dirt, and I saw a flash of gold.

Charging straight toward me.

My heart barely had time to react before he scaled the fence in a single, effortless motion. His helmet came off, and I was caught—locked in the deep amber of his eyes, warm and burning all at once.