I dig my heels in, spin around until I’m facing Hayes and the MC behind us, hike the rope over my shoulder and pull with all my might. My muscles are working in harmony with my determination, years of hauling heavy shit finally paying off asmy arms scream in protest. I try to focus, not pay attention to what Beth Ann is fumbling next to me and Jake is doing as I hear him shout with victory, probably landing his second attempt. I just stay focused and keep pulling.
Finally, with one last hard tug, the dummy calf skids over the finish line at my feet. The MC’s voice booms through the arena and despite being completely out of breath, I stand tall and smile throwing my arms into the air in victory.
“And we’ve got ourselves a winner, folks! Regan from the state of North Carolina takes it all!”
The crowd explodes, but it’s all static in my ears. My eyes lock on Hayes, and the rest of the world blurs. He’s right there in front of me, smirking like he saw this coming all along. His slow, deliberate claps cut through the noise, each one a tease, a challenge, meant just for me. His gaze doesn’t waver, and suddenly my legs aren’t fully cooperating. I’m glad the ground’s still under me because everything else feels like it’s spinning. I probably shouldn’t have taken that shot of tequila before coming here tonight.
The MC gestures to the prize that he’s been hyping up, a garish, oversized trophy declaring me the lassoing champion of the rodeo. For a second, I consider tossing it in the dirt and walking straight toward Hayes, climbing him like a tree and kissing that smirk off his face. But instead, I play it cool, plastering on a polite smile.
“Thank you,” I say, taking the trophy as a camera flashes, capturing a photo of me and the grinning MC.
Hayes steps towards me next, close enough for his scent to wash over me—leather, whiskey, and fresh air. It’s a scent I know well, one I’ve come to crave. It smells like freedom, the countryside, and North Carolina. It smells like a man. A real one. The kindwho doesn’t mind getting dirty, is always a little sweaty and who lives life rough and honest.
My heart skips when his hand presses into my back, firm and steady as he leans in. “Not bad, little cowgirl,” he murmurs, his voice soft and teasing.
“Not bad? Ikilledit,” I fire back, tilting my chin up with a smile.
His brow lifts, and that slow, handsome grin spreads across his face. “You did good. Where’d you learn to rope like that?”
“I grew up on a farm,” I respond, intentionally leaving out the part about it being an egg farm where the only animals were chickens and a miniature pony.
He hums, letting the answer sit without pressing further.
Another photographer materializes out of nowhere, camera poised and ready. “Pose for the photo, please,” he announces.
Hayes’s hands settle on my hips like he owns them, pulling me snugly against his side. Before I can process the move, he tucks me beneath his arm, tilting me just enough under the brim of his cowboy hat that he’s removed from his head and with one smooth motion, he lifts the hat to shield our faces from the crowd and the camera in a way that feels... intimate.
Suggestive.
Private.
My breath catches as I gaze into his soft, hazel eyes and feel the caress of his breath against my cheek. He leans in, his face so close now that I can make out every detail. The light brown of his irises streaked with green, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes that speak of laughter and years spent in the sun. His rugged features are sharper up close, fine lines framing his mouth and a tan that tells stories of long days under open skies. Hiddenbehind his hat feels like we’re in our own little cocoon of silence despite the roaring crowd that’s surrounding us.
“W-what are you doing?” I whisper, my voice betraying how completely thrown off I am.
I’d come here tonight ready to rope a cowboy, calm and confident. Hell, I’d even joked about sleeping with one. But now, standing this close to Hayes, his hand firm on my hip, his breath warm against my cheek and our lips practically touching, I’m completely at a loss.
“This is the pose they always want,” he says, his voice softer now. “Suggestive cowboy stuff sells.”
“Oh.” It’s all I can manage. My lips are dry, so I wet them instinctively, and his gaze drops, catching the motion and tracing every swipe of my tongue.
The camera clicks from behind his hat, but all I can think about is the way his thumb is brushing ever so lightly against my ribs.
“Tell me a secret,” he says suddenly.
“A secret?”
“Yeah.” His grin widens, boyish and carefree, softening the rugged edges of his face and stealing at least ten years off him. “Something that no one else knows.”
Calm, confident, and a little tipsy Regan from earlier is back and I already know what I’m going to say.
“You’re going to fall in love with me,” I say, keeping my face as serious as I can. “Even though you’ll try your damnedest to resist it.”
A smile spreads across his face before he’s throwing his head back and laughing so hard his chest is shaking. My grin doesn’tfalter as he lowers his face back to mine behind his hat. “I’d hardly say that’s a secret, Regan.”
I smirk. “Tell me a secret about you.”
He studies me for a moment, like he’s weighing whether I’m someone he can trust. He must see that I am because when he finally exhales, he looks lighter.
