I’m relaxed until he asks, “So, Carson . . . you guys seem pretty close, and I get the feeling he doesn't like me very much.”
I try to swallow the lump in my throat. Carson doesn’t like any man who looks at me, not since Garrett. But I can’t tell Knox that—I won’t discuss Garrett with him.
“He’s just protective and a little grumpy sometimes. He came to the ranch when he was eighteen, a year after my mom died. He became more of a babysitter than a ranch hand for my dadand we’ve always been close. He’s the closest thing I have to a sibling.”
“That makes sense. I’m pretty protective of my sister, too. I bet you and Jessie ran him ragged as kids.” He laughs and shakes his head when I nod vigorously. “Oh yeah, he got his first gray hair at twenty-six and blamed us.”
The waitress brings our check, and Knox refuses to split it. He said this wasn’t a date, but I could tell this was an argument I wouldn’t win. After he pays, we head back to the ranch, and I’m starting to think Jessie was right. This was fun. The longer we talked, the more comfortable I became. Knox seems genuinely interested in my life and the people in it, not just the ranch. Not that I’ll ever tell Jessie she was right—she’d be insufferable.
Chapter 13
Knox
We’re halfway back to the ranch and I feel like dinner went well. Kacey actually talked about something other than Buck and looked more relaxed around me. The more I get to know her, the more I like her. She’s beautiful, but she’s also smart and compassionate. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this right before the summer run, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
I need to get it together.
I said this wasn’t a date, and that’s probably the only reason she agreed to go. It’s clear she has reservations about me, but she seems to be slowly letting her guard down. I enjoy spending time with her, I want to get to know her better, and I’m not sure why she is hesitant to let me. I know she’s single, and I’ve seen the way she looks at me. Hell, she’s even flirted with me several times. So why is she so hesitant?
Maybe because I’m a rodeo cowboy, and we have horrible reputations? Or because she knows I’m only here for a few weeks?
“So, when’s your next rodeo?”
Her voice snaps me out of the spiral of questions I shouldn’t even be asking myself. I’m not looking for a girlfriend. I shift in my seat and release the death grip I had on the steering wheel.
“I’d have to look at my schedule, but I think it’s Mount Pleasant, Texas in early June.”
She turns in her seat to face me fully. “Are you ever afraid? When you get on a bull.”
This isn’t an uncommon question, and my answer has always been the same.
“There is a quote by Will Smith that’s always stuck with me. ‘Fear is not real. The only place that fear can exist is in our thoughts of the future. It is a product of our imagination, causing us to fear things that do not at present and may not ever exist. That is near insanity. Do not misunderstand me, danger is very real but fear is a choice.’ That said, I believe the day a man fears riding bulls is the day he should stop.”
She scrunches her brows together, and I can tell she doesn’t fully understand me. That’s okay, most people don’t.
“Don’t get me wrong, there are bulls out there that’ll make a guy’s mouth go dry. They may have a bad reputation, or they buck so hard that no one’s ridden them, but bulls don’t scare me. I know there is a level of danger there, but I see them as an obstacle or a challenge, and I have always expected myself to rise to the occasion.”
She slowly nods. “I guess that makes sense. It’s all about how you perceive things. Some people are terrified of horses, but even as a child, I was never afraid of them. Have you ever been seriously hurt before?”
I have zero plans of sitting here and listing out all the shit I’ve broken, torn, or had stomped on. “All bull riders get hurt. I’ve been hurt badly enough to take a few months off, and I’ve been hurt when I only take a few days off. It’s all part of the sport,” is all I say. I don’t really talk about this stuff with anyone, but especially not with women. She’ll probably think I’m insane for continuing to ride. I just got her to talk to me; I’m not going to scare her off now.
I change the subject as I pull into the drive of the ranch.
“Thanks for coming with me. This was fun.” I smile at her as I pull up to her house.
“It was, I’m glad I came.” Her cheeks turn a little pink as she makes eye contact with me and I sense she means it.
She climbs out of the truck, and I make the snap decision to walk her to her door. My mom raised me right. This might not be a real date, but I’m not just dumping her at the curb.
“Oh, you don’t have to walk me up,” she says when she sees me coming around the front of the truck.
“Now, what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk you to your door?” I put my hand on the small of her back as we walk through the small gate into her yard.
“Well, thank you. I can honestly say no one has ever walked me to my door.” She lets out a huff of a laugh.
Wait—what?No man has ever brought this girl home from a date and walked her to her door? What kind of douchebags has she been dating?
The worst part is she doesn’t seem bothered by this fact. Does she have no clue how a man should treat her? I don’t have much of a temper, but this has me wanting a list of names. Maybe Carson knows, and we could use this as a bonding tool for us. He’d love me by the end.
