“There you are,” he says, glancing between us with knowing eyes. “Your dad's looking for you. Something about showin’ off for the guests.”
I groan, immediately understanding. “Please tell me he's not serious.”
“Dead serious. Got Diablo saddled up and everything.”
Mia raises an eyebrow. “Diablo?”
“His bull,” Mason explains before I can. “Though today it's just a bronco. Your boyfriend here is apparently the evening's main event.”
“He's not my—” Mia starts, just as I say, “I'm not her—”
Mason holds up his hands, grinning. “U-huh. Whatever you say. But that bronc's waitin’, and you know how your old man gets.”
I sigh, turning to Mia, hesitation tugging at the edge of this moment. I don’t want to step away from her just yet. “I don't have to do this…”
Her eyes spark—there’s challenge in them, but something else, too. Pride. Interest. Heat. “Are you kidding? I’ve been hearing about the legendary Grant Taylor rodeo skills for days. Now I get to see them firsthand?” She takes a sip of her tea, the corner of her mouth curling. “I wouldn't miss it for the world.”
I swear my heart skips a beat.
“Fine,” I concede, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach at her interest. “But stay where I can see you. Some of these extended cousins get handsy after a few beers.”
“I can handle myself, cowboy.” she reminds me, but the small smile playing on her lips tells me she doesn't mind my protectiveness.
Yeah, I don’t doubt it. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop watching her like she’s mine.
***
Fifteen minutes later, I'm behind the makeshift chute Dad set up near the edge of the pasture, adjusting my weight as the bronco snorts and shifts beneath me. It's not Diablo—thank God—but a spirited gelding named Firecracker who lives up to his name.
The dust hangs thick in the warm air, stirred up by boots and hooves and the buzz of a crowd looking for spectacle.
I rest a hand on Firecracker’s flank, and he shudders under my touch. He’s wired tight, ready to launch like a damn rocket. Same as me.
“You sure about this?” Mason asks, tossing me my gloves and “Your shoulder's still a mess.”
I nod, slipping them on, scanning the gathered crowd until I spot Mia. She’s standing beside Lily, arms crossed, one foot cocked to the side. That same expression she wore in my kitchen yesterday morning when I was half-naked and she was half-flustered. She's intrigued. And maybe a little worried. Good. I want her to see it all—the grit, the guts, the wildness that raised me.
“It's just a little show ride.” I mutter.
Mason follows my gaze and smirks. “Ah. Impressing the city girl. Gotcha.”
“Shut the hell up and open the gate,” I mutter, but I can't deny he's right. There's something primal about wanting Mia to see this side of me—the side that's in my blood, that connects me to this land and my heritage.
He goes to open the gate, but not before muttering, “Try not to die, Romeo.”
My heart hammers against my ribs, a wild rhythm of anticipation. The bronc shifts under me, muscles rolling like thunder beneath skin. He’s tight with tension, energy coiled and trembling, like he’s been waiting for this as long as I have.
Everything narrows.
The gate slams open, and Firecracker explodes into the pen. Suddenly we’re flying. He bucks hard, head down, back legs shooting into the sky. I move with him, not against him—one with the rhythm, every muscle tuned to his next twitch. My hand grips the rigging like it’s the last thing tethering me to earth. The world narrows to this dance of man versus beast, my body moving instinctively with the bronco's wild bucks and spins. My shoulder screams in protest, but I ignore it, determined to make this the ride of my life.
Adrenaline overtakes pain. Precision crushes hesitation.
This is what I was built for.
Dust whips past my face. The wind howls in my ears. Somewhere in the distance, someone screams my name.
Eight seconds blaze past in a blur of sweat and muscle, fury and grace. When Dad calls time, I dismount with a flourish, landing on my feet as my cousins move in to control Firecracker.Everyone erupts in cheers, but I only care about one person's reaction.
