Page 63 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

“What happened?”

“When Roger retired, he sold his stock to Kline and pretty much gave him the ‘in’ to the bull riding industry. When we were just kids, we’d come out here, and Roger would let us use his bulls.” He ran his hand along his mustache and chuckled. “We were fucking reckless. I have no idea why he let us do that. Maybe figured it was better we were out here than drinking.”

He shuffled his boots against the ground, kicking up dirt.

“Harleigh’s mom passed away, too,” he said, almost like an afterthought that had been sitting on his tongue.

“I know.” I cut in. “It’s one of the things Harleigh and I bonded over when she first came to Chicago.”

He gave me a soft smile, then looked down. “You get it.”

I sighed. “Unfortunately, I do.”

Harleigh burst onto the porch, arms in the air, practically bouncing. “Yay. You made it,” she shouted. “Look who’s behind y’all.”

I turned, and Dalton and Gatlin were striding toward us as well.

“Fable,” Roger called warmly as he stepped out the door, striding toward me. He wrapped me up in his big arms, his cowboy hat nearly flying off with the motion.

“It’s nice to see you too. Thanks for having me for dinner.” Turning to glance at the others trailing behind, I added with a smirk, “Sorry we had to bring the motley crew with us.”

Roger chuckled. “These are some of the good ones. Well, maybe not Dalton—the jury’s still out on him.”

Before I could take in the rest of the house, Harleigh grabbed my hand and practically dragged me toward the staircase. “Come on, you have to see my room.”

I followed her up the narrow stairs, realizing they led to a single room at the top. When she opened the door, my jaw nearly dropped. The space was massive, easily the size of two or three bedrooms combined. A huge white bed dominated the center of the room, flanked by matching nightstands. The angled ceilings and exposed beams gave it a cozy, attic-like charm, but the plush rugs, oversized mirrors, and sheer curtains made it feel airy and bright.

There was even a small sitting area in one corner and an adjoining bathroom with a claw-foot tub visible through the open door.

“Now I get why you didn’t want to stay on the ranch,” I mumbled, spinning slowly to take it all in. “This is amazing.”

Harleigh grinned, flopping onto the bed like a queen in her palace. “Yeah, it’s not too bad, huh?” She got up from the bed, tugging at the maroon satin shirt I’d slipped on earlier. “You look cute.”

“Thanks.” I glanced down at myself, taking in my outfit. A denim miniskirt paired with brown boots and a satin top. I’d layered a few gold necklaces and bracelets, aiming for a look that was dressed up but still casual enough for dinner with Roger.

“Did you just sit around today? Beau brought you home last night and even texted me when he dropped you off.” Harleigh raised an eyebrow.

I sighed as I sank into the chair in the corner of her room. “No, he came over . . .”

Her expression lit up instantly, and I spilled everything about what had happened that morning—the awkward moments, the tension, the ridiculousness of it all. By the time I was done, Harleigh was half doubled over with laughter, her eyes gleaming as she shook her head.

“That boy has got it bad for you.” She clucked her tongue like she was scolding a child.

I tried to dismiss her words, though the heat rising in my cheeks betrayed me. “I swear, we’re just friends. Maybe a little flirty, but friends. We had that boundary talk earlier.”

Harleigh raised the other eyebrow at me.

“I mean it.” I insisted and bit my lower lip. “I just left Mike and Chicago. I can’t . . . I can’t jump into another relationship.”

“Then fuck him?”

I narrowed my eyes at her and groaned. “Already did, Harls.”

“Bet he’s got a big package.”

“Oh my God,” I squeaked and then got up and headed toward the door. I glanced over my shoulder. “The biggest.”

Harleigh laughed and followed me downstairs, where Roger and the guys were setting the table in the dining room.