Page 94 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

“Fine,” I grumbled as I jumped to the top of the chute where she was standing.

Kline’s arena wasn’t anything fancy—not like the setups on the circuit—but it got the job done. The chutes were worn, the wood reinforced with steel where the bulls had kicked too hard over the years. A narrow walkway lined the top, wide enough for a spotter to stand and watch over the rider.

Fable stood up there, her hands gripping the bars as she watched me with furrowed brows, probably still worried about the bull damn near knocking me flat on my ass.

“You ready to see how this is done?”

She eyed me warily. “I’ve seen it before, Beau.”

“Yo,” Dalton hollered, sending the bull kicking the back of the chute.

“I figured you didn’t want to be down in the arena, so I asked Dalt if he could come by and open the chute for me. I’ll also need someone to help me get the bulls back into the pens.”

We stood on the creaking walkway up top as I zipped my vest up. Fable grabbed my hand, stopping me dead in my tracks.

“Beau.” Her voice cracked. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

“It was nothing. Need to keep you safe too.”

“I, uh, I can spot you though. I’m confident in that.”

“Good girl.” I praised her and then grabbed a flank strap, getting it on the bull’s hind while Dalt walked into the arena.

“What’re we doing today?” he hollered from down in the arena.

“Going to show Fable how it’s done.”

“I’ve seen bull riding a thousand times by now. I watched endless clips . . .”

“Nah, none better than a private session from the infamous Beaudreau Banks,” Dalton shouted, and I chuckled.

“Get some good content. These are some of the stock Kline wants to put up in the auctions.”

She nodded. “Thank you for doing all this for me.”

It was all for her, but I didn’t need her to know that I was up at five in the morning getting the bulls rounded up, or how I’d spent all night thinking about her in ways I never thought of my other friends.

“It’s nothing.” I rolled my shoulders. “Kline helps me a lot, so I figure I get practice in and he gets some content.”

She gave me a small smile, one that had my chest tightening in a way I didn’t like. I needed to get my head back in the game.

I turned back toward the bull, threw on my gold helmet, and adjusted my glove. Instead of thinking, I did what I did best. I secured the flank strap around the bull, tightening it enough—not to hurt, just to encourage Bendy to buck harder when it was time. The bull shifted beneath me, its thick muscles twitching as it adjusted to the pressure.

I leaned over the chute, gripping the rails, and turned to Fable. “Hold onto my vest while I get on.”

She hesitated for half a second before stepping closer. Her fingers curled around the thick leather of my protective vest, gripping it tight as I swung a leg over the bull and settled into position.

“Need help?” Dalton asked, holding onto the rope that popped the chute open.

“No.” I looked up at Fable. “She’s got it.”

“Help me pull up on the strap.”

Fable looked at me, uncertain. “Like this?” She tugged lightly with her free hand, the other still held onto my vest.

“Tighter.” I grabbed the resin from my pocket. “I’m gonna put more on the rope. Gotta make sure my hands stay slicked to it.”

She pulled again, her knuckles going white as she gritted her teeth and put her weight into it. The rope flexed beneath her grip, and I let out a low chuckle.