Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m tipsy. There’s a difference.” The whiskey has made me bold, or maybe just reckless. “And it’s better than sitting there terrified while everyone stares at me.”
Something flickers in Calder’s expression, anger, maybe, or concern, or both. But before he can respond, the announcer’s voice crackles through the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to start our bull riding event!”
“That’s my cue.” Levi pushes off the bar, tipping an imaginary hat at me. “Thanks for the company, Saint. It’s been a pleasure corrupting you.”
He jogs off toward the livestock pens, leaving Calder and me standing at the bar. The tension between us is thick enough to cut.
“We need to talk about boundaries,” Calder says quietly.
“We need to talk about a lot of things.” The whiskey has loosened my tongue. “But right now, your brother is about to ride a bull. So maybe we should go watch instead of you lecturing me about boundaries. We do need to be the picture of family and support, right?”
For a moment, I think he’s going to argue. Instead, he takes my arm—not roughly, but firm—and guides me back toward the bleachers.
We return to our seats just as the announcer’s voice crackles through the speakers. “First up, we’ve got Levi Bishop on Bad Intentions!”
The crowd erupts in cheers. Below in the arena, Levi climbs onto the rails of chute number three. Even from here, I can see his easy grin and the way he waves to the crowd. The enormous bull beneath him, Bad Intentions, is all muscle and rage.
“Should he be doing that after drinking all those shots?” I ask, surprised that I actually care.
“Probably not,” Calder responds, keeping his gaze on his brother with an expression I haven’t seen before, something soft, almost proud. “He wouldn’t listen if anyone told him not to do it. He loves defying the rules.”
The gate swings open.
Bad Intentions explodes into the arena like a bomb going off, twisting, spinning, and bucking with vicious intent. Levi stays on, one hand in the air, body moving with the bull’s rhythm. It’s terrifying and beautiful and completely insane.
The crowd is on its feet, screaming. I find myself standing too, heart pounding as I watch Levi hang on for dear life.
Six seconds. Seven.
The bull spins hard, then reverses direction. Levi adjusts, reads the movement, and stays on.
Eight seconds. The buzzer sounds.
“Eighty-seven points!” the announcer shouts. “That’s a qualifying ride!”
The crowd goes wild as Levi dismounts, and the bullfighters move in to distract the bull. He climbs over the fence, pumps his fist in the air, and takes a victory lap around the arena.
Despite everything, I find myself smiling. Actually smiling. Because watching someone succeed at something dangerous and stupid is strangely exhilarating when you’ve spent the last week watching your own life fall apart.
“He’s insane,” I say.
“There’s a little bit of that in each of us.” Calder looks down at me, and something in his expression makes my breath catch. “You’re starting to fit right in.”
Do I want to fit in? Do I have a choice? His world is now my world. The whiskey has dulled some of my emotions, and instead of sinking into those thoughts of despair, I let myself forget why I’m here in the first place.
Then I see her.
Allie.
She’s down near the concession area, her copper hair as bright as fire in the sand and metal surroundings. And beside her, looking every inch the wealthy matriarch, is Emma Porter.
Shit. My heart clenches inside my chest.
“Calder,” I whisper, grabbing his arm. “Allie. And Mrs. Porter.”
His body goes rigid beside me. “Don’t look at them.”
“But—”
“Don’t.” His hand covers mine, squeezing hard enough to make me wince. “If they see you react, if they think something’s wrong, this all falls apart.”
But it’s too late. Allie’s seen us. Her green eyes lock onto mine across the space, and I watch her face transform into shock, then confusion, then something that looks like anger.
She knows. Of course she does. She’d have seen the paper.
Emma says something to her, following Allie’s gaze. For a long moment, both women just stare at us. Then Emma places a hand on Allie’s shoulder, says something sharp, and starts guiding her away.
But not before Allie looks back one more time.
The expression on her face breaks something inside me. She looks betrayed. Hurt. Like I’ve abandoned her for the enemy.
“It’ll be okay,” Calder whispers. “You can talk to her soon, once things die down a bit.”
I nod, but inside I’m screaming. It feels wrong to let her walk away, to let her think that I chose this and that she wasn’t there with me.
The rodeo continues around us—more riders, more events, more cheering. But I barely register any of it. All I can think about is Allie’s face, Emma’s sharp assessment, and the way hope flickered and died in the span of a heartbeat.