“Tonight’s my last ride.”
My eyes widen, the air stilling in my lungs. “What?”
He nods, his jaw tightening like he’s both excited and still struggling with the decision. “I’m done. Hanging up my gear after I get off the bull tonight.”
“But... you’re at your peak,” I protest, the words spilling out in disbelief. I just met this guy, didn’t know anything about him before but I read his bio on the ride to the rodeo, yet from what little I know, Hayes Walker is nowhere near ready to retire. In fact, it would be a travesty to the rodeo world if he did. Ninety percent of the crowd showed up tonight to see him ride.
“And that’s exactly how I intend to go out,” he replies simply, his tone firm.
“Wow.” The word slips out in a whisper. “That’s... kind of badass. Most men would keep going until they burned out.”
He smirks, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that makes my stomach flip. “I’m not most men and I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. I’ve finished what I intended to do and now I’ve got other plans.”
“Like what?”
“Med school,” he says, his gaze steady. “I’m thirty-three years old. I’m ready to do something other than get my ass kicked by a bull every weekend.”
I blink, caught completely off guard because that isn’t what I was expecting. “Med school?”
He nods, his grin softening. “No one knows yet. Just my agent.”
“Well, I feel honored that you’ve shared that with me.”
“You should,” he teases, stepping back slightly and dropping the hat from its place between us. Before I can say anything, he lifts it and places it firmly on my head, tilting it just so, his eyes locked on mine. “Don’t take it off tonight,” he says.
I reach up, my fingers brushing the smooth fabric of the brim that smells like him and feels well worn. “Why not?”
He grins, the kind of look that promises trouble. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy, honey.”
And with that, he strides off toward the pit, leaving me standing there, my heart racing and my face burning.
“Miss, please return to your seat,” someone with a headset calls from behind me, breaking the spell.
I turn, completely in a daze while someone mentions they’ll send me a copy of the photos they took.
But all I can think about is the man who just walked away and the hat sitting snugly on my head that I don’t intend on removing.
Chapter 3: Regan
“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 regretnoneof 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.
