Page 52 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I laughed, shaking my head. “Not even close. Although, there’ve been plenty of times he probably wished he was.” My eyes followed a bull grazing lazily near the fence as I explained. “Dalton’s about ten years younger than me. We’ve known each other for years. He was just this scrappy little kid always trying to keep up with the older ones.” We continued to walk along the perimeter, heading in the direction of my ranch, though we were still a ways away. “His family never supported it. They don’t see it as a real career, just some reckless hobby.”

“Poor Dalton. That sucks.”

“It does,” I admitted, my voice lower, thinking about how much Dalton had fought for this. “My dad stepped up. The moment Dalton showed real interest, my dad made sure he had what he needed—gear, advice, a place to practice. It’s all my dad knows. He used to ride bulls himself back in the day.”

Her expression shifted to curiosity. “Oh wow. So it runs in the family.”

“Yeah,” I said with a nod, the memories coming back vividly. “Growing up, it was everything. My dad taught me how to handle the bulls, how to read their movements, how to respect them. It wasn’t just about holding on for eight seconds; it was about understanding the animals, the rhythm of it all. He pushed me hard, but it wasn’t just for the competition—it was because he wanted me to respect what I was doing.”

I glanced at her, and her soft expression caught me off guard. Her green eyes held mine longer than I expected. There was something about the way she was looking at me—not just listening, but really hearing me—that made it feel easier to open up.

She was all fire and quick comebacks, but this was different. The tension between us wasn’t crackling; it was pulling me in.

I hadn’t opened up about any of this with anyone in a long time. Standing here with her, sharing pieces of my past, it felt . . . natural. Comfortable in a way that made my chest ache, even though I shouldn’t let it.

Her gaze flicked to mine, and for a second, I forgot about the bulls grazing behind us, the cold bite of the wind, or the fact that I shouldn’t be feeling this way about her. The way her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how, made me hold my breath.

“What happened to your dad?”

I felt the weight of the question settle, and for a moment, I wasn’t standing in the pasture anymore. I was back in that arena, the sounds of cheers turning into gasps, my heart pounding as I watched him fall.

It was the month after Mom died. He got on a bull, even though my uncles told him not to. His friends told him not to. We all told him not to. His head wasn’t in it, but he wouldn’t listen. Looking back, I wonder if it was to prove something to himself.

He drew Becky Buckles, the nastiest bull in the circuit. He had those long, stretched-out strides, the kind that could whip a rider clear across the arena if you didn’t stick tight. You don’t want a bull like that. The good ones buck in a tight circle. Becky Buckles didn’t do clean or predictable. He was chaos and he’d throw you harder and faster than you could blink.

I coughed, snapping myself back to the present, aware of Fable watching me.

“I, uh, he got in a wreck.” My voice strained to get the words out. “Fell off the bull around five or six seconds in. Her back legs came down right on his femurs.” I swallowed hard, the memory still sharp after all these years. “He was in the hospital for a long time, getting it all fixed up. He can walk okay, but sometimes he has to use a cane. Not that he’ll admit it—he’s a stubborn motherfucker.”

I stopped, and so did Fable, her eyes searching mine as she gave me an understanding nod.

“He’s fine now,” I added, forcing a shrug. “That was it. His bull riding days were over.” I hesitated, the next words sticking in my throat. “It was only a, uh, a month after my mom passed,” I whispered, my voice cracking against my will.

Her eyes widened, and she fumbled over her words. “Y-Your mom passed away?”

“Yeah. I was just a kid. High school.”

The pause between us stretched. She looked down at her sneakers, kicking lightly at the dirt, and wrung her hands, brushing her fingers over the chafed red skin.

They were dry and scratched up, almost like she’d been scrubbing them too hard. I wondered if it was just the dry air down here, the kind that cracked even the toughest hands. Maybe I should stop by the store on my way back home and grab her some lotion⁠—

“My parents are both gone too,” she whispered suddenly, her voice so soft it blended with the breeze.

For a second, I thought I might’ve imagined it, but the way she continued looking at the ground told me I hadn’t.

She didn’t look up, still fidgeting with her hands, and for once, I didn’t know what to say. I had no comeback or quirky remark. I knew the pain of losing one parent and couldn’t imagine that times two.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, leaning a little closer. “For both of them. That . . . that kind of loss? It stays with you.”

I wasn’t sure if my words helped or just added weight to the moment, but I meant them. I really did.

She lifted her glossy eyes to mine, and all I wanted was to pull her close and make it better. But we’d just set a boundary—barely an hour ago—and I couldn’t go breaking that already. I had to stick to it, keep things friendly, because nothing about our situation had changed. We were still neighbors, and this would get messy fast if I crossed a line.

So, I did what any sensible man would do in my situation: I awkwardly stuck my hands out, keeping my hips as far back as possible to avoid . . . well, touching anything I shouldn’t. Leaning in so I was bent at a sharp ninety degrees, I slowly wrapped my arms around her.

Her eyes widened, and she stood completely frozen. My hands circled her back in the most nonthreatening way possible—one landing stiffly on the top of her shoulder, the other on her upper back, far, far away from her plump little ass in those tight jeans.

Dammit. Even thinking about her jeans made my dick twitch, and I couldn’t have her see me getting a damn hard-on while I was trying to console her, so I pushed my hips backward a bit more.