Page 34 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I jumped up and grabbed my rope before heading back to my truck. “Thanks again for letting me practice.”

Kline gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Not supposed to have favorites, but it’s been a pleasure to watch you grow up around here and make it to the tour.”

“Excited to see some of those marketing tactics the new person comes up with.”

Kline laughed. “I think she’s going out tonight at Dive’s. You should meet her there. Give her a good ole time.”

I laughed right back. Of course it was a girl. Just what we needed around here—more fucking distractions. Too damn bad, even after a week, I was still stuck on that fiery blonde from Chicago.

“Maybe I will, Kline. Maybe I fucking will.”

Dad, Kline, and I went our separate ways, and I hopped into the truck and headed back to the ranch.

The ranch was small—a few horses and some cattle—but it was mine. My plan was to expand it, make it something solid enough to rely on when the time came to step away from the circuit. When I was gone, I had a few people I’d hired to manage the few horses I had and a couple cattle.

That was the goal: Build something steady to retire into. Something that didn’t involve packing a bag every week or chasing the next paycheck from the next event. Life on the road wasn’t built for settling down. Being on the circuit was no place to be married or have a family. It was relentless. Every week a new arena, a new town, no end in sight. When you thought you’d catch a break after the world championship, summer hit, and it was all about the team season.

It was exhausting, and while I loved the sport, I couldn’t imagine doing this forever. The ranch was my shot at something steady. I wanted to grow the operation, bring in more cattle, expand the pastures, and maybe even set up a breeding program for quality bucking bulls. Something that could bring in a steady income while letting me stay put.

It wasn’t much yet, but it was a start. A place where I could breathe, away from the chaos of the road and the endless demands of the circuit—and get a fucking break from Dalton and my dad.

As much as I loved traveling with them, they both had their ups and downs. Dad was . . . my dad, but ever since I was young, he pushed me to get on a bucking bull and follow in his footsteps. When he was young, he got in a wreck that ended his career. When I was born, I think he saw that as his version of a second chance. Mom died when I was in high school, and I was on the tour at eighteen years old.

Dalton came into the picture a little later and became my best friend. Dad and I both helped mentor him. He was young, wild, and rough around the edges—still is. His parents passed away when he was a kid, and I saw a lot of myself in him back then.

Things were different now. I wasn’t the reckless kid I used to be. My career was no longer at its peak, and I could feel it winding down. Dalton reminded me of the fire I used to have, but watching him stumble through the same mistakes I made was a bitter reminder of how much the sport had taken from me over the years.

As I pulled up to the house, Dalton’s name flashed on my phone screen. The ranch house sat against the backdrop of a golden sunset, its big wraparound porch catching the last of the light. It was the kind of place that begged you to kick off your boots, grab a drink, and forget the rest of the world. Exactly what I wanted to do tonight.

I sighed, answering as I parked the truck. “What’s up?” I said, already bracing myself for whatever bullshit he was about to throw at me.

“We’re going to Dive’s tonight,” he said, his voice way too hyped for how tired I felt. “Some new chick is in town, and I am not missing out on this. You’re coming.”

I groaned, leaning my head back against the seat. “Dalt, I just got home.”

“Please.” He practically begged. “I need a wingman. You can’t let me go in there solo.”

I stared at the house, but Dalton wasn’t one to take no for an answer, and deep down, I already knew he’d wear me down. He always did.

“Fine. Fuck. See you at nine.”

11

Fable

“Ugh, Harleigh. Do we have to go out tonight?” I whined.

We’d arrived in Lindley a few days ago, fresh from the whirlwind of finding movers, coordinating a two-car drive, and settling into my new house on the ranch owned by Kline and Maribel—my new employers. The house was small, with only one bedroom, so when I’d begged Harleigh to move in with me, she’d turned me down in favor of staying at her dad’s far larger place down the road.

Earlier, Harleigh had gone with me on a four-hour round trip to Dallas to pick up some essentials from a department store before we officially started work on Monday morning. The last thing I wanted to do was go out, but Harleigh was over at my house and rummaging through my clothes.

“Yes, and we also have to throw out half your damn wardrobe.” She held up a pair of white linen pants and a silk shirt. “Babe, I hate to break it to you, but there is no way you’ll ever need these.”

I grabbed them out of her hands. “Yes, there is. You said I’m mostly working in an office.”

I put them aside, hanging them nicely on the dresser. “In fact, maybe I’ll wear them Monday.”

Harleigh chuckled and then shook her head. “Whatever you say. You’ll learn fast.”