Page 39 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

“You said he didn’t live here,” she whined to her friend.

She had to know. She had to know that the feistier she got, the harder my dick got.

“I didn’t think he did,” her friend said, turning toward me. I immediately recognized her—Harleigh Harris. She gave me a pointed look. “Why are you here?”

“We live here.” Dalton cut in before I could answer, stepping up beside me like he belonged in this mess. “Also, I knew I recognized you when I met you⁠—”

“I know who you are, Dalton. Obviously,” Harleigh snapped, cutting him off. “You too, Gatlin.”

Gatlin laughed and reached his hand out. “Good to see you, Harls. It’s been a damn while since high school.”

Harleigh completely ignored his hand. “This is my best friend⁠—”

“Fable.” I interrupted her, my voice a little rougher than I intended. Her name felt heavy in my throat, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

Fable still wouldn’t look at me. She extended her hand toward Gatlin instead.

“Nice to meet you,” she said with a polite smile.

The tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife, but Fable seemed determined to pretend I wasn’t there. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t stop staring, no matter how hard I tried.

“What’re you guys doing here?” Dalton said. “You don’t live here.”

“Do now,” Harleigh huffed, hands on her hips.

“Unfortunately,” Fable muttered under her breath.

Live here? They . . . live here? The woman of my fucking dreams was in this town, and I was supposed to avoid her Monday through Wednesday?

“Sure do. We’re working for Kline and Maribel to help with the bull auctions.”

No fucking way.

If she was working with the bulls, that meant she’d be there when I practiced. I’d run into her—not because Lindley was small, but because she was in my world.

Wait—if she was working for Kline, did that mean I’d even see her on the road? At events? My stomach twisted at the thought. This wasn’t a casual run-in. She was tangled up in the very thing I lived for.

“What do you say, Beau? The girl you fuc⁠—”

“Shut up,” Fable and I snapped in unison.

She threw her hands up, exasperated, and turned to Harleigh. “I gotta get air. This, being around him”—she jabbed a finger in my direction—“is suffocating.”

With one final huff, she stormed toward the door.

Harleigh’s glare could have burned a hole through me.

Dalton nudged me, grinning. “Told you she’s scary.”

“Fix this,” Harleigh spat.

I pointed to myself, incredulous. “Me? Fix it? I didn’t do shit. She’s the one who walked out on me.”

“Go,” Harleigh said, shoving me forward.

I grumbled under my breath, but followed the streak of blonde hair outside into the biting cold.

“We’re meeting again in the cold?” I muttered, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets.