Chapter 31
Beau
“You look like shit,” Fable mumbled from the top of the chute, gripping the gate as I guided the bull inside.
I felt like shit too—probably because I hadn’t slept.
Instead, I spent half the night jerking off to the memory of her, over and over again.
I had to wake up this morning and face the reality of being friends with her.
I promised myself last night would be the last of it.
I’d get it out of my system—get her out of my system before I had to return to see her and be friends.
She needed my friendship, and quite frankly, I needed her too. If I could only fuck her one more time, then maybe . . .
“Fuck,” I mumbled as the bull kicked the back of the gate, making me go flying. “Fucking shit.”
“You okay?”
“Fine,” I grumbled as I jumped to the top of the chute where she was standing.
Kline’s arena wasn’t anything fancy—not like the setups on the circuit—but it got the job done. The chutes were worn, the wood reinforced with steel where the bulls had kicked too hard over the years. A narrow walkway lined the top, wide enough for a spotter to stand and watch over the rider.
Fable stood up there, her hands gripping the bars as she watched me with furrowed brows, probably still worried about the bull damn near knocking me flat on my ass.
“You ready to see how this is done?”
She eyed me warily. “I’ve seen it before, Beau.”
“Yo,” Dalton hollered, sending the bull kicking the back of the chute.
“I figured you didn’t want to be down in the arena, so I asked Dalt if he could come by and open the chute for me. I’ll also need someone to help me get the bulls back into the pens.”
We stood on the creaking walkway up top as I zipped my vest up. Fable grabbed my hand, stopping me dead in my tracks.
“Beau.” Her voice cracked. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“It was nothing. Need to keep you safe too.”
“I, uh, I can spot you though. I’m confident in that.”
“Good girl.” I praised her and then grabbed a flank strap, getting it on the bull’s hind while Dalt walked into the arena.
“What’re we doing today?” he hollered from down in the arena.
“Going to show Fable how it’s done.”
“I’ve seen bull riding a thousand times by now. I watched endless clips . . .”
“Nah, none better than a private session from the infamous Beaudreau Banks,” Dalton shouted, and I chuckled.
“Get some good content. These are some of the stock Kline wants to put up in the auctions.”
She nodded. “Thank you for doing all this for me.”
It was all for her, but I didn’t need her to know that I was up at five in the morning getting the bulls rounded up, or how I’d spent all night thinking about her in ways I never thought of my other friends.
“It’s nothing.” I rolled my shoulders. “Kline helps me a lot, so I figure I get practice in and he gets some content.”
She gave me a small smile, one that had my chest tightening in a way I didn’t like. I needed to get my head back in the game.
I turned back toward the bull, threw on my gold helmet, and adjusted my glove.
Instead of thinking, I did what I did best. I secured the flank strap around the bull, tightening it enough—not to hurt, just to encourage Bendy to buck harder when it was time.
The bull shifted beneath me, its thick muscles twitching as it adjusted to the pressure.
I leaned over the chute, gripping the rails, and turned to Fable. “Hold onto my vest while I get on.”
She hesitated for half a second before stepping closer. Her fingers curled around the thick leather of my protective vest, gripping it tight as I swung a leg over the bull and settled into position.
“Need help?” Dalton asked, holding onto the rope that popped the chute open.
“No.” I looked up at Fable. “She’s got it.”
“Help me pull up on the strap.”
Fable looked at me, uncertain. “Like this?” She tugged lightly with her free hand, the other still held onto my vest.
“Tighter.” I grabbed the resin from my pocket. “I’m gonna put more on the rope. Gotta make sure my hands stay slicked to it.”
She pulled again, her knuckles going white as she gritted her teeth and put her weight into it. The rope flexed beneath her grip, and I let out a low chuckle.
“That’s it, Cowgirl.” I rubbed the resin into the rope. “Hold it right there.”
Her jaw tightened at the nickname, but she didn’t correct me. Didn’t pull away. She held the strap, her fingers inches from mine as I worked.
And for a second—just a second—I let myself enjoy it.
With one last swipe of resin, I clenched my grip around the rope and nodded. “Alright, we’re set. Let’s see if I still remember how to ride.”
“Ha,” she said jokingly, but her eyes were wide.
“You good?”
The bull bucked in the shoot, and her grip tightened around my vest. “Y-yeah.”
“I can get off—”
She shook her head. “No. I-I’m okay.”
“You tell me if you want me to stop.”
I kept my grip firm on the bull rope, and with my free hand, I reached forward, tapping the bull’s broad head. The animal shifted, nostrils flaring, but its gaze remained locked in the wrong direction. Stubborn son of a bitch.
“What’s wrong?” Fable gripped the strap she’d pulled tight for me.
I exhaled through my nose, giving the bull another firm tap between the eyes. “We gotta get him to look out toward Dalt. If he comes out of the gate buckin’ backward, it ain’t safe for anyone.”
“Can I help?” she asked, and I glanced up.
God, she looked serious, like she actually wanted to be in this with me.
I should’ve told her no. Should’ve told her to step back and let me handle it. Instead, I let my mouth get ahead of my better judgment.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Come down to the gate. Get close, but not too close—just enough to catch his attention.”
She hesitated but did as I said, stepping down carefully. The bull’s ears flicked, catching her movement.
“Now tap him,” I told her.
Her hand hovered for a second before she gently pressed her palm against the Bendy’s massive forehead between his horns. The second she did, the bull huffed and shifted its stance, eyes flicking toward where Dalton waited outside.
“There you go.” I grinned. “You’re a natural.”
Her lips parted slightly, and she stared at the bull. A hesitant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. The kind of smile someone wore when they accomplished something they never thought they could.
Her fingers flexed like she wanted to reach out again, to prove to herself it wasn’t a fluke. That she wasn’t standing on the sidelines anymore—she was part of it. Part of this. My world.
“You ready, Dalt?”
“Let’s go, Banks,” he called, and I gave a quick nod beneath my gold helmet, feeling the rush of adrenaline coil tight in my gut.
I glanced up one last time at Fable, catching the way she was still watching me—wide-eyed, hesitant, but glowing with something that looked a hell of a lot like excitement.
“See ya in eight seconds, Cowgirl.”