Page 7

"You heard her." Eli doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to, because his posture says it all—step away from my sister, or we're going to have a very different conversation. "Back off, Cole. We're not interested."

Something flickers behind Cole's eyes before he quickly smooths it away. "You know where to find me if you change your mind, Addie." He looks past Eli like he isn't standing there, which takes balls. "Best of luck out there."

He turns and walks away like he came — unhurried & unbothered.

Cole Maddox and I go back further than I'd like to admit. We all do. There was a time when we were just kids meeting at the creek behind the Dawson property, fishing for hours, nobody's last name meaning much when you're a kid with a pole in the water. Then high school happened, and Cole remembered what the Maddox name is worth, and suddenly we were the wrong kind of people to be seen with. Too much dirt under our fingernails. Not enough zeroes in our parents’ bank accounts. Can't be seen with the lowlifes. Bad for the image.

His old man was a menace too. He spent his life finding creative ways to make life difficult for anyone whose land he wanted, the Clarks most of all. Cole has since taken over his father's operations. Based on what he pulled with Hazel's Aunt Mae last summer, trying to strong-arm her into selling, the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

Now he buys up family farms, breeds championship bulls, and sticks his hands into whatever he thinks he can own. And apparently, he's decided a barrel racer would make a nice addition to his roster.

Over my dead body.

"You rode brilliantly, Addie." Hazel's voice cuts through the tension as if she planned it, warm and certain. Just like that, the whole mood shifts. Phones come out, arms go around shoulders, and Addie's mom is already tearing up because that's what she does. It’s loud and warm and exactly the kind of thing I know how to quietly step away from.

I take that as my cue. I've got somewhere to be anyway. I got a guy to see about a bull.

Or about riding one…maybe.

But first, I want to hit up the pullpens again. Lineups should be posted by now, and old habits die hard.

I take one last look at the Dawson family taking pictures. Smiling, laughing, hugging — and something tightens in my chest. I can’t help but think that sometimes I’m always looking in from the outside. I don’t dwell, though; I’m used to it. Just like being a washed-up bull rider. I know full well I'm not good enough for much — but it's okay. I've made my peace with it.

Before I can sink too far into the self-pity I rarely allow myself, Eli hollers.

"Hey — Chace. Wait up!"

I turn and face my friend. There’s not much I wouldn't do for this man. Hell, if he asked me to help bury a body, I'd probably have been standing right beside him when he pulled the trigger. Which is precisely why it doesn't matter how hot Addie's gotten, or how many times I've had to shut down a thought about what those legs would feel like wrapped around me — I would never betray him like that.

"What's up, man?"

"Where you headed?" He glances around like there’s no better place than right here.

He would be wrong, because the bullpens sound significantly better. Even if I don’t ride anymore, there’s just something about being around the bulls, watching them, learning them, that I find solace in.

I run my hand over the back of my neck. I'm not ready to tell him about the assessment. I know exactly what face he'd make. He was by my side the second I hit the dirt that day, and every surgery after. He gave me work on the ranch without making me feel like a charity case, and brought me on full time at Clark Ranch when things became more than he could handle alone. I was just grateful for the income, because between medical bills and Nana needing long-term care right around my third surgery, money was already tight. It's still tight. I need to get back on the bulls — it's all I know — and I don't need his two cents, however well-meaning it might be. He doesn't need to know how bad things have actually gotten.

So I walk around the truth. "Just headed to check the bull lineup. See who's hitting the dirt today."

He looks at me like he's not quite convinced, so I add, "Maybe find a buckle bunny to keep me company after. Too bad you're practically married — you could've joined us." I nudge him and wink.

"Even if I were single, I would NOT be joining you and anyone." He’s always so serious.

I knew that would get him. "You're missing out, man. I'm a great time. I'd even let you go first—"

"Stop." He holds up a hand. I grin. "When you're done — after the bull rides that is— I need to talk to you."

"I'm right here. Talk."

"Not now." He glances back over his shoulder, eyes moving between Addie and Hazel. When his gaze lands on Hazel, she gives him an almost imperceptible nod.

What the fuck is going on? Whatever this is, it's big. I can feel it.

"I don't want Addie to overhear. Meet me later at the Rusty Spur? I've got a proposition I want to run by you."

A proposition he doesn't want Addie to hear about. Which means whatever it is will piss her off.

Which means I'm absolutely in. "Sounds good, man. See ya then."