Page 5 of Rescued by the Alien Bull Rider (Cowboy Colony Mail-Order Brides #6)

JOLENE

Z ohro stared at me in silence for so long that I began to wonder if his translator – which I assumed he had, since we’d had no trouble communicating up until now – had glitched out.

Also, his hand was sweaty. Like, really, really sweaty.

So sweaty that hot moisture was pooling between our palms, finally emerging as a big, fat drop that fell onto the ground between us.

I couldn’t blame the guy for sweating after the mad dash and then insane bull-riding routine I’d just witnessed. I’d never even seen a pro bull rider last that long, and I’d watched plenty of them over the years at New Alberta rodeos.

“Thank you very much for saving me,” I said softly when he didn’t respond to my comment about coming to marry a cowboy.

He grunted, then pulled his hand away. My fingers twitched, soaked, but I thought better of wiping my hand on my pants. That had to be rude in any culture. And I was the one who’d reached out to shake, anyway.

“How did you know to shake my hand?” I asked, suddenly curious.

I looked up into his face, but didn’t see much beyond hard, dark lines and very bright eyes.

The moons and stars were behind him, tall trees ahead, casting most of him in into shadow.

Long hair. Muscled frame. Boots and a prehensile, rope-like tail that I only now saw held a knife.

As if noticing my gaze upon it, he tucked the blade into a sheath at his belt.

“If you are with the bride program,” he asked, ignoring my question, “then why are you not with Tasha?”

First Oaken, now Tasha. I don’t have a clue who these people are…

“Well, I guess I’m not officially part of the program yet,” I said. “But I heard about Magnolia, and heard there were more men waiting for wives and… I kind of just jumped in.”

“Jumped in?”

“Booked a ride. But he just dumped me out here in the middle of nowhere!” Humiliatingly, my voice cracked. Pregnancy hormones and the dip in adrenaline from the evening’s events left me suddenly shaky and sad.

“Who did?” Zohro’s voice went sharp as the knife he’d just sheathed.

“Bones! The pilot who brought me here.” I sniffed, blinking hard and willing my throat to relax. “He said there’s some kind of no-landing-here rules for this planet, which I don’t really get, but whatever. So he didn’t want to take me somewhere with more people or, like, the authorities.”

“He landed here?” He whipped his tail violently in a gesture that seemed to be emphasizing the beautiful but unforgiving nature of the landscape. “And he left you? ”

The knife was back in the grip of his tail. Something besides his eyes gleamed in his face. Fangs. When his voice came next, it sounded nothing like it had before. A savage snarl. “ Where is he? ”

“The ship is long gone by now,” I stammered. “He landed and exited the atmosphere while cloaked.”

Zohro made a growling sound, then slammed his knife back into its sheath. I thought I heard him muttering something about males without honour but I couldn’t be sure.

“I will have to take you to the warden,” Zohro said, a modicum of control back in his voice. But even if he sounded slightly calmer than a moment ago, he certainly didn’t sound happy at the prospect. My heart sank. I was fairly certain that my arrival had royally screwed up Zohro’s life somehow.

Just like Pa’s.

“His wife, Tasha, is the bride program coordinator. She is human. She will know what to do with you.”

“Oh. Alright! Well, thank you,” I said again. I supposed, after everything, this wasn’t a bad outcome. Things hadn’t exactly gone to plan so far, but Zohro would help me get on track. Deliver me to the people who’d help sort me out. “How long will it take to get there?”

“Two or three days by shulduback.”

“Shulduback?”

He still held the reins in one big fist. He lifted them meaningfully.

“Oh! This beauty. She’s a shuldu?”

“Yes. Her name is Wyn.”

“Wyn! Well isn’t that a name just as pretty as you!” I cooed, patting her smooth, glossy neck. But then my tone turned serious, fear tightening my vocal chords. “But I can’t ride her.”

He gave a surprised grunt at that. “You handled her well. I assumed you had some previous experience with mounts like her.”

“Oh, I do!” I said quickly. I didn’t want him to think I’d come here with no applicable skills. “But I, um, have a medical condition.”

“A medical condition,” he repeated, sounding entirely unconvinced.

“A temporary one!”

“If you cannot ride,” Zohro rumbled, sounding annoyed, “the warden can come and get you on his slicer.”

“What’s a slicer?”

The name did not sound promising.

“It is a very fast vehicle. One or two people may be mounted upon it, and it slices through the air.”

“Like… Like flying through the air? Like a small shuttle?”

“No, it has no walls or doors like a shuttle. It is more like a mechanized shuldu with no legs. You ride atop it and hold the handlebars.”

Well, that sounded even more dangerous than falling off a freaking horse! Shuldu! Damnit!

“I don’t think I can do that,” I said, shaking my head rapidly, mouth going dry.

Zohro let out a tight breath.

“If you refuse to ride either shuldu or slicer-”

“Hey!”

“-then you will have to travel by wagon,” he went on as if not hearing me.

He suddenly flexed his hand roughly, as if it had fallen asleep and the numbness was bugging him.

It was the hand I’d shaken. The sweaty one.

“I do not have a wagon in good repair. I will have to set aside time to fix it. On top of my other work, this might take days.”

Days. Shit.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me stay on your ranch during that time?” I asked in a small voice. I’d come here hoping to find a home. And now I found myself begging for a place at his.

Am I ever going to find somewhere that welcomes me? Somewhere I don’t have to work to earn my place? Somewhere I am wanted?

If I was ever going to find a place like that, that day was certainly not today.

“I grew up on a ranch,” I said. “I can do chores. Earn my keep. Even help with the wagon repair.” Nervously, I licked my lips, and for a second I thought that the hot whiteness of Zohro’s gaze dropped to my mouth.

Silence stretched until it went taut. Now I was the sweaty one. If Zohro said no, which I was more and more convinced he was about to, then I was basically fucked.

But when he answered, it was with explosive exasperation. “Of course you will stay at my ranch!” he snapped. “You think any decent male would leave you here to fend off genka alone in the dark?”

“I mean, Bones did…”

“Do not mention that name to me again,” he said warningly. “Getting sucked into his own shuttle engine would be too lenient a punishment for what he’s done.”

For what he’s done…

Leaving me?

I stared at the massive, white-eyed shadow before me, utterly gobsmacked. That’s what Zohro was most pissed off about right now? The fact I’d gotten left behind?

Getting left behind was the story of my fucking life. Mama dying. Paul ghosting me when I told him about Baby Girl. Pa rejecting me. Bones flying off without a care once he’d gotten his credits.

Over and over and over again.

No one had ever been angry on my behalf about it before.

I thought of the knife Zohro had wrenched from its place without a second thought, as if about to gut Bones like a fish for abandoning me.

I hadn’t even been that angry on my own behalf!

Getting left behind… It was something I’d come to expect by now.

Sometimes, when the whisky wasn’t enough to drown out my most depressing thoughts, I wondered if it was something I deserved.

But Zohro didn’t seem to think so. No, apparently Bones was the one who deserved something shitty right now. Not me.

Despite the cold air, I felt suddenly warmed. All the way down to the toes in my boots. I beamed at Zohro, and he stared at my face as if in astonishment. Maybe Zabrians didn’t smile.

Did they hug?

I would have hugged him, but the belly made it kind of hard, and I hadn’t exactly revealed the nature of my “medical condition” to him yet.

My big fleece jacket, too bulky to pack in my bag, concealed my shape well enough.

And even if he did see my belly, he might not know what it meant.

He wasn’t human, and it wasn’t like he was some medical doctor or something.

But he was, I decided, a pretty cool guy. A little grouchy, maybe, but I could handle that. I’d grown up around gruff New Alberta farmers, men who would rather have taken a hoof to the head than get all gooey and talk about their feelings.

In fact, the way Zohro moodily prowled over to my bag and comms tablet, hoisting them up without a word and tying them to Wyn’s saddle…

It made me feel right at home.