Page 5

“And next up, we have the number one bull rider in North America—Hayes Walker riding our meanest, wildest bull, Stonewall!”?

Oh great. He got the crazy bull for his last ride.

The crowd erupts into deafening cheers, and I rise onto my toes, straining for a glimpse of Hayes and the beast. He’s still in the pit, the gates locked tightly around him, but I spot the helmet that’s replaced the hat on my head pulled low over his handsome face.

Next to me, Lydia is practically vibrating with excitement.

Ever since we got back to our seats, she’s been grilling me with questions about what Hayes and I talked about when we were hidden behind the brim of his hat for the photo op, but there wasn’t much to tell.

We hardly talked, not unless you count my tequila-fueled secret-sharing moment where I told him he was going to fall in love with me.

And honestly, I regret none of it.

Maybe a normal, clear-headed woman would think that when the rodeo ends, I should find him, give his hat back, and slip away into the night pretending I didn’t hear what he said.

Go back to my quiet, mostly predictable life in Whitewood Creek two hours away where my brothers are constantly hovering, and my days are filled with chicken poo and good brews.

But no, that’s not how it’s going to go tonight. Because tonight is my birthday and I deserve this.

And then the clock starts counting down and those gates fling open. My mind goes blank while I watch. The air is electric, the crowd roaring like a living, breathing wave of energy. Stonewall charges out, kicking and twisting violently, and the pounding of hooves reverberates through my chest.

I don’t breathe. Not for the whole fifteen seconds of his ride.

It feels like fifteen minutes that my heart is in a stranglehold while I watch Hayes hold on, every movement calculated, fluid and fearless.

The bull is relentless, thrashing and wild, but Hayes moves with him, predicting each kick and buck before he makes them and I swear I can feel the high that he must be feeling knowing it’s his last ride and this is it.

And then, it’s over.

Hayes pulls off what looks like an impossibly smooth dismount from the furious animal, and the distraction team rushes in to steer Stonewall away.

My heart finally lurches back into rhythm as a grin spreads slowly across my face, unstoppable.

Because I know something the rest of this crowd here doesn’t: that was one hell of a final ride.

“Damn, that was amazing,” Lydia whispers as she joins in with the crowd cheering loudly.

I glance up at the scoreboard. No surprise, he’s in first. Of course, he is. And then, like something out of a movie, his eyes sweep across the crowd, searching. My breath catches when his gaze finds me and before I can process it, he shoots me a wink and tips his head.

“Um…” Lydia hisses in my ear, but I’m just smiling like an idiot because I know what that was for. That was for me and a promise for the night we’re about to have.

The rest of the rodeo finishes in a blur of cowboys, cowgirls, loud country music, and events so wild they leave my head spinning.

By the time it’s all over, the drinks from earlier are starting to fade, leaving me feeling just the right side of relaxed and excited as I grab Lydia’s arm and pull her toward the chute where the performers mingle with the crowd.

We hang back at first, my heart thudding in time with the rising noise around us.

Excited cheers, bursts of laughter, the occasional high-pitched whoop rings out.

I edge us closer, little by little, until we’re near enough to see what all the fuss is about.

And then I don’t need to look to figure it out.

The energy shifts, the air practically crackling with it, and the women nearby start to lose their minds.

Hayes must have just walked out.

His voice cuts through the din, deep and rich as he greets people with practiced ease.

“Hello there. Thanks for coming out tonight. Good to see you again. Yeah, it was a hell of a ride.”

I can’t see much over the crowd, but I catch glimpses—a photo op here, a signature there. Shirts, hats, photos… one woman’s bare chest. Yeah, no surprise there.

I grab Lydia’s hand again and weave us forward, even as she yawns and mumbles about wanting to go to sleep. It’s late now but I need to find Hayes and make sure he’s still in before I let her go and get her back to her aunts.

And then suddenly, we’re in the thick of the crowd and there he is, front and center. And dammit, does he look good.

He’s showered, that much is clear. His light brown hair is slicked back, still damp, and he’s traded his riding gear for dark Wrangler jeans slung low on his hips with a plaid button-up and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The corded muscles in his forearms flex as he signs item after item, his smile unwavering.

No hat in place and I decide he looks good with and without one.

Then his eyes land on me and like a magnet is pulling us, he’s stepping forward, abandoning the requests from everyone around us. He grins, slow and sure, and winks like he’s been expecting me all along.

“What would you like me to sign tonight, ma’am?”

I wet my lips nervously, trying to think of something—anything—I have on me for him to sign. My phone case crosses my mind, but I decide against it. Pulling the hat off my head, I flip it upside down and smirk up at him.

“Sign the inside of my hat, cowboy.”

His grin widens as he places the tip of the pen into his teeth and uncaps it seductively.

A move that instantly makes him hotter. His fingers brush against mine when he takes the hat from me, sending a zing of awareness straight through me.

He writes his signature along with the date, but then his hand stalls, and he adds something else, blocking my view from seeing it.

I tilt my head, trying to peek, but before I can make anything out, he flips the hat right side up and places it back on my head, adjusting it gently until it’s snug.

Leaning down, his voice drops to a low murmur, just for me to hear. “Didn’t I tell you not to take that off, honey? Now be a good girl and come have a drink with me. Queen City Bar?”

I hesitate, the weight of the crowd’s gaze pressing down on what feels like is a private moment, but it lasts for only a second. Then I rise on my toes, leaning in close enough to feel the heat of his breath on my skin.

“How about we skip the drinks and get straight to what we both want, cowboy?” I whisper.

I pull back just in time to see the flicker in his eyes—soft brown flashing with heat, sharp and hungry.

He wants me too. There’s no point pretending otherwise.

We both know exactly where this is headed.

I don’t need flowers, alcohol, sweet words or some grand gesture.

I don’t need to be paraded around this city on his arm for someone to catch a photo of us together.

What I need is to be fucked so hard it leaves me breathless, so that I’m sore the next day and can feel him between my legs.

I need it to erase every piece of baggage waiting for me back in Whitewood Creek, and wipe clean the future I might not even have.

His grin spreads slow and wicked like he likes my suggestion better.

He looks like he’s fighting a laugh but doesn’t quite manage it, his amusement sparking something reckless in me.

Without a word, his hand slips into mine, threading our fingers together.

His grip is warm and solid as he tugs me toward the galley’s exit.

“Thanks for coming tonight, y’all!” he tosses over his shoulder, his tone all southern cowboy charm that can smooth over any disappointments.

Lydia laughs behind me, shaking her head as I grab her hand with my free one, trying to drag her along. But she’s already smiling and letting go.

“See you at my aunts in the morning!” she calls, her voice light with laughter. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get home. But be safe!”

And just like that, she’s gone. Hayes pulls me firmly against his side, his arm settling around my shoulders like it belongs there.

“Come on, my wild cowgirl,” he says, his voice heavy with promise, thick enough to make my knees weak. “Let me show you what you’ve been missing.”