Page 7 of Maverick (The Bull Riders #3)

She looks away from me again. I feel a shift of sympathy in my chest, which is so unusual that I feel like I might need to go to a doctor and check and see if I’m ill.

What the fuck. She’s too young to have to ask questions about mortality and life, but then, so was I.

I know what it’s like. And yeah, her circumstances might be different, but she is a woman.

In my experience, women are so much more introspective and self-aware than men.

It took something catastrophic to make me examine things.

I’m not sure that I’ve done it very well.

Hell, I know I haven’t.

But that’s for the other side of the championship. Once I win that, I think it’ll be fixed. Well, fixed is a strong word. The wrong word. Not fixed, but… It’ll be a different phase. I’ll be able to move on.

Yeah. That’s what it’ll be. Time to move on.

“Yes,” she says. “My first time. And it all came crashing in on me last night and I did something impulsive. Unfortunately, I have a history of doing that.”

“Right. I’m gathering that.”

“That’s why my parents like my sister better, just FYI. She’s a good one. I’m the one who would decide to dye my hair pink or get my nose pierced.”

“You don’t have a pierced nose.”

“I did for a while, but then I got tired of messing with it, so I took it out and let it close up. Because I’m also bad at following through. But I’m a damn good horsewoman.”

“I know you are. I’ve seen you ride.”

“Thanks,” she says.

“It’s not an empty compliment. You’re good.”

I know a lot about form and function when it comes to equestrian events.

If not for Sadie, I probably wouldn’t, but I was pretty deep in that world for a while.

Finding out that Stella isn’t exclusively a barrel racer shouldn’t surprise me, actually.

She carries herself like someone who’s done their time in dressage. It’s a thing.

She’s looking at me like she doesn’t entirely trust me. That’s fair. I’ve cultivated that.

“Thanks,” she says slowly.

“You’re welcome. So, if I leave you alone are you going to try to throw your virginity at anybody else?”

She sniffs. Loudly. “It’s not really your business if I do.”

“True. How about this? Don’t make it a random thing.

I mean, make a random hookup if you want, but choose the guy.

Don’t leave it up to the poker cards.” I stand up and drain the coffee cup.

That puts us about six inches from each other, her leaning against the counter, me standing there by the bed.

She’s a small little thing. So pretty. There’s a whole lot of beauty in this world, and it’s not meant for me.

I’m clear on that.

It’s not meant for me anymore.

I tried making space for myself in heaven, and I was locked out. A pretty definitive response on what kind of life I’m allowed to lead, and I’ve accepted that.

More or less.

It’s a little bit harder right now. Makes the back of my teeth ache.

“Life has a bad sense of humor. You go leaving things up to the winds of fate, and it’s liable to rebound on you. You got lucky last night.”

She snorts. “I didn’t get lucky. That’s kind of the whole thing.”

“Yeah.” I look down and notice that her nipples are hard points. I bite the inside of my cheek and look back up. I’m not going to look back down again.

“Promise me.”

“Why?”

“You made me invested in you,” I say. “Frankly, I resent it.”

“Feel free to not be.”

“But I am. Too late. Be good.” I lean in and set the coffee cup on the counter, my arm crossing right by hers.

She jumps, and it brings her just a little bit closer to me. Maybe I’m perverse. But this is the closest thing to action I’ve had for years. So I’m kind of enjoying it. Even though I know full well that I shouldn’t be.

I guess it doesn’t take much to give you a thrill when your life has been short on them. Well, this kind of thrill. I chased that adrenaline high every weekend during the season.

Every weekend.

“See you around, Stella.”

“Yeah. See you around.”

I step out of the horse trailer and shut the door behind me. There are some people around, witnessing what appears to be a walk of shame.

That girl.

She’s put herself in a weird position. There are a lot more men around the rodeo than there are women, but of course there are groupies who are super into cowboys, so there’s no shortage of sex and fun for those who want to partake.

But the cowgirls who signal availability are liable to get themselves hit on quite a bit.

Mind you, a lot of the men prefer the rodeo queen type. A little bit more bedazzled than Stella.

She has a fresh-faced thing going for her. I like it. I can’t say there’s a kind of woman I don’t like, if I’m honest. So, it surprised me, the degree to which I felt drawn to her when I first saw her. It is not like she’s some magical type that I have.

Funny to find out that she does dressage, though.

I shove that thought to the side.

Because any commonalities between her and Sadie are… a coincidence.

And that’s the truth. I would never have looked at her and thought she was that kind, not without being told.

Now that I know, I can see it. Mainly, I resent the fact that I do feel protective of her.

I feel anything. Not my circus, not my monkeys, and yet she’s working at becoming a monkey on my back, that’s for sure.

There’s another ride tonight, both for me and for her. My pre-ride ritual is pretty fixed. I drink a lot of water, and I try to get into a headspace where everything is pretty shut out. People think I’m unfriendly because I am. I didn’t use to be.

Well, I guess I’ve never been Mr. Congeniality. But a lifetime of child neglect will do that to you. I thought I found the cheat code. The exit strategy.

Fake it till you make it.

Then fucking life happened.

That’s what I told Stella. And I’m not kidding. Life has a sick sense of humor.

I always smoke a cigarette after a ride, but I don’t smoke all the time.

It’s the thing that I do to let off a little bit of steam.

A habit that I had years ago, that I dropped, and picked up again, because why the fuck not?

Who am I trying to impress, and what am I trying to live for?

Once the answer to those questions was gone, I just…

I just went right back to the self-destructive road I was on before.

Sort of.

I spend the day in my routine, and around dinnertime, there’s food out for the cowboys and cowgirls, and I decide to make my way to the barbecue tent so that I can get some for myself. That’s when I see Stella, essentially backed into a corner by Holt.

Yeah, this was my worry.

That what she did would signal availability in a way that she didn’t necessarily want.

I can understand wanting to look like a badass who followed through with her word; hell, that’s part of why I did it in the first place.

I don’t want to look like the guy who lets someone off the hook for a bed. But…

Violence courses through my veins. I can see how uncomfortable she looks. I close the distance between myself and her, my vision single-minded, and then I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her up against me. “You got a question you need to ask?” I pose that to Holt. Menacingly.

Holt lifts his brows. “We were having a conversation.”

Stella turns and looks at me, half fury, half relief. I can see that she’s angry that I’m coming to her rescue in any regard. Fair enough.

I can also see that she wanted it. She’s soft underneath my hand, and honestly, I could just enjoy this for a minute. It doesn’t have to be anything more. Doesn’t ever have to progress, but my hand on that thin T-shirt, over her toned midsection, is really doing it for me.

“Didn’t realize the bet was still going on.”

“Oh, I didn’t need a bet,” I say. “I’m just so fucking charming.”

Stella puts her hand on my face, and before I can react, stretches up on her toes and kisses me on the cheek. Her lips are soft, the move so innocent that it does something to me. I didn’t expect it. I guess nobody sees a sweet kiss on the cheek coming until it slugs them in the gut.

I’m speechless. Which is ridiculous. There was a time when a woman could’ve flashed her tits at me and I wouldn’t have broken a sweat, but she kissed me on the cheek and I can’t remember where I’m at.

I must still look intimidating, though, because Holt has backed away a step.

“Yeah. Careful,” I say. “You step into my arena, you get the horns.”

Holt backs away, and Stella shoves into me, pushing me into the corner. “Your arena ? That is the most misogynistic–”

“Excuse me. I just rescued you. Don’t go nitpicking the method.”

“I’m not nitpicking the method. Nitpicking would imply that I was looking for microscopic issues in a broadly fine statement, and there was nothing okay about that.

” She scowls. “I don’t understand why men need another man to come in and take ownership of a woman before another man will listen to them say no . ”

“I don’t either. But they do. That’s how the world works.

I don’t have to like how it works to acknowledge that.

I wish it weren’t that way. But there. It’s dealt with.

And I guarantee you–” I look around. We’re drawing a lot of covert glances.

Holt is definitely not the only one who has watched me stake a claim.

“Yeah. You’re not going to get bothered.

Might have sabotaged your plans, though. ”

“It makes you look like a creepy old man,” she says, pushing away from me.

She goes and sits at a table, and I figure I have to join her now.

I go and get in the barbecue line, grabbing myself some baked beans, brisket, and coleslaw.

Then I all but slam it down on the table next to her and take a seat. “I’m thirty-five, thank you very much.”

“I said what I said.”

“You have no idea how dirty I am.” Her eyes get wide, her cheeks going red. “Don’t dare me, Stella, it’s not going to end well.”