Page 19 of Stay Wild Darlin’

I finally turned, finding him standing in the middle of my living room, arms crossed over his broad chest. His expression was unreadable, but I knew that look—it was the one he gave when he was about to lay down some hard truths I didn’t want to hear.

“You sure about that, Dalton?”

I huffed out a breath, running a hand through my hair, the tension in my body coiled so damn tight it might snap. “I’ve been doing fine without a fuckin’ nanny.”

Beau let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Fine? You’re barely sleeping. You got a rank to maintain, a career you’ve worked your ass off for, and you’re about to throw it away because you’re too damn stubborn to accept help.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I wasn’t about to admit he was right. I clenched my jaw and turned away, staring out the window into the dark night. The quiet of the ranch usually calmed me, but it felt suffocating.

“I can handle this, Beau.”

“Yeah?” He stepped closer, his tone softer, less of a challenge and more of a friend who actually gave a shit. “Cora deserves more than you running yourself into the ground, Dalt. She deserves someone who isn’t surviving. She needs you at your best, not some worn-down, sleep-deprived version of yourself.”

My throat tightened. I hated that he was making sense.

“What if Brooke comes back? What if she walks through that damn door, says she changed her mind? She’s her mom, Beau.”

Beau nodded, but there was something in his face I couldn’t quite read. “Then you reassess. But, Dalt . . .” He sighed. “She ain’t coming back anytime soon. And even if she does, that don’t change the fact that you’re the one here. You’re the one raising Cora.”

“I’ve only been doing this for three months, man. Every time I think I got a handle on it, something knocks me back down.”

“That’s what being a parent is. You keep getting back up.” Beau set a heavy hand on my shoulder. “The best parents? They don’t do it alone, Dalt. I know you think you gotta carry this whole damn thing by yourself, but you don’t. You shouldn’t.”

I clenched my jaw, my fingers twitching at my sides. “I-I don’t know if I can trust someone else with her. She’s all I got, man.”

Beau nodded, like he expected me to say that. “Don’t trust anyone. Trust the right person. Fable swears this Poppy girl is it. And you know Fable—she doesn’t vouch for just anyone.”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Fable could make friends with a damn wall.”

Beau smirked. “Maybe. She’s smart when it comes to people. She wouldn’t bring Poppy here if she didn’t think she could handle it.”

I let my head drop forward, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know, man.”

The truth was, I’d never in a million years pictured my daughter’s nanny to look like that—confident, sharp-eyed, and so damn attractive it threw me off-balance the moment she pulled her Jeep into my driveway.

“You’re tired, Dalt. I can see it. Hell, I can feel it standing next to you.” Beau’s voice turned serious again. “You’re running on fumes. You need sleep. You need a break. You need to get back on the bull and remember who the hell you are. And Cora?” He glanced toward the baby monitor sitting on the table. “She needs a dad who isn’t burning himself out.”

My chest ached, the truth in his words cutting deep. I wanted to argue, to insist I could handle it on my own, but I was barely standing. I was tired. I was so damn tired, and a part of me was already too curious—and too desperate—to say no.

Beau clapped me on the back. “One weekend. Try it. If it don’t work, we’ll figure something else out. If it does? Maybe it gives you a little piece of yourself back.”

I let out a slow, measured breath, my fingers tightening into fists before relaxing. “One weekend,” I muttered.

Beau grinned. “One weekend, Dalt. That’s all.”

“You think they’ll let me in the event this weekend?”

“Yeah, I bet they’ll bump someone back down to the other circuit. It happens all the time.”

There were two “leagues” in professional bull riding. The top circuit was where the best of the best competed, the ones fighting for that million-dollar bonus at the end of the season. Then there was the lower circuit, what most sports would consider the minor league.

If a guy in the majors couldn’t make an event—injury, personal reasons, whatever—they’d pull someone up from the lower league. And if someone in the majors wasn’t performing, they’d drop him back down, giving a hungry rider from below a shot at proving himself.

Beau watched me carefully. “You make the call, Dalt. See if they’ll let you in. If they do . . .” He smirked. “You better win. Otherwise, all this arguing about Poppy was for nothing.”

I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head.

“So, she can stay?” Fable walked inside quietly, with Harleigh at her heels.