Chapter 7
We were almost home, the sun dipping behind the hills, casting everything in that golden glow. Willa rode beside me, hair wild from the wind, cheeks flushed from either the kiss, the argument, or just being Willa.
I gave her a sideways glance.
“That was something’ back there.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“What, me verbally slapping a grown man in public?”
“I mean the fire,” I said, nodding. “Where the hell do you keep all that when you’re not torching poor Rufus?”
She let out a breathy laugh, softer now.
“It felt good, honestly. Like… stupidly good.”
She looked out across the fields.
“Back home, people know me. Which means they expect me to be the version of me they’ve already decided on. But here? No one has a clue. I could break that pompous guy’s nose and no one would even blink.”
I paused.
“You might wanna hold off on that part.”
She looked at me, questioning.
“Trust me. Sitting behind bars in Dalmore ain’t exactly a crowd-pleaser.”
Silence.
Then she burst out laughing. Loud, free, unfiltered.
She shook her head. “Honestly? I think I needed this. The air, the space, the freedom to not give a damn. It’s like… I’m remembering who I was before I started trying so hard to be someone else.”
I didn’t say anything. Just watched her. She wasn’t trying now. And she was perfect.
McKenzie snorted ahead of us, still proud of her destruction.
“Well,” Willa said, grinning as we reached the gate, “guess I found my happy place. Who knew it involved a cow, a cowboy, and a whole lot of illegal sidewalk activity.”
I looked at her.
“It just involves you, finally breathing.”
By the time we got McKenzie back where she belonged, Willa was covered in dust and cow hair and looked smug as hell about it.
I wiped my hands on my jeans.
“I’ve got one more surprise for you.”
She turned, narrowed her eyes.
“If this is where you tell me you secretly planned a wedding, I swear—”
“It’s not a wedding.”
I swung up onto Shakespeare. “Come on.”
She climbed on and we rode out slow. No rush. No cow to babysit this time. Just the two of us and the trail.
When we reached Rick’s bar, she tilted her head.
“This is your surprise?”
I didn’t say anything. Just held the door.
She walked in.
And stopped.
There it was. The bull.
“You said it was on your list.”
“We’re really doing this?”
I nodded. “I figured you deserved a win today.”
She smiled and walked straight to it.
“You sure about this, cowboy?”
“Dead sure.”
The place was quiet. Just a few old-timers hunched over drinks, barely glancing our way. The bull stood waiting, lights low, the room warmer than outside but still carrying the smell of dust and beer.
“Okay. Three minutes. That’s all I need.”
“And… as part of your surprise, I could give you a private lesson.”
That got her. Just a flicker—barely there—but she bit her lip, and I saw it. That heat again.
She stepped up beside me, still limping slightly.
“You’re offering to teach me how to ride a bull?”
I met her eyes. “You already got the attitude. Just need the technique.”
She laughed once, soft and low. “Okay, cowboy. Impress me.”
I didn’t smile. Just reached for her waist, steady and sure.
“You good?”
“More than good.”
I lifted her up gently, avoiding the sore leg as best I could, and set her down on the bull’s back. She adjusted, shifted her weight, winced once, then settled in.
“Alright,” I said, stepping close, one hand on the front of the saddle, the other brushing her knee as I checked her position. “You want your center low. Don’t lean back like they do in movies—it’ll throw you. Stay loose, but not lazy.”
She nodded, focused.
“Your knees need to grip here,” I said, tapping the inside of her leg. “Tight, but not locked. You gotta move with the bull. It bucks left, you lean left. It bucks forward, you drop your hips and absorb it.”
She shifted again, adjusting her grip on the handle.
“And your free hand?” I touched her wrist, guiding it up. “Don’t flail. Keep it controlled. Like a counterweight.”
She looked down at me, serious now.
“Hold tight, breathe with it, and don’t overthink.”
She nodded once, jaw set.
I stepped back, but kept my eyes on her.
“Ready?”
She squinted.
“Wait—that’s it?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“That’s all it takes to become a real Montana rodeo girl?” I let out a low breath. “Right. Almost forgot something.”
I stepped in, grabbed the front of her shirt, and kissed her. Slow. Direct. No warning.
When I pulled back, she was blinking up at me, mouth still parted.
“Now you’re ready.”
She swallowed.
“Okay. Yeah. I think I am.”
By the time I stepped back from the bull and made it over to the bar, it felt like every damn eye in the place was locked on Willa.
I leaned against the counter next to Rick when the front door creaked open behind me.
Hope.
Of course.
She walked in like someone had hung a poster: Tonight only—Willa rides the fucking bull.
Rick nudged the speed dial up a notch, keeping it smooth. The bull started moving under Willa in a steady rhythm, and she adjusted like it was nothing. Legs tight, grip solid.
People started whistling. First one, then another.
Rick chuckled under his breath.
“If she stays on for three minutes,” he called out, “drinks are on the house.”
Cheers broke out. Willa didn’t flinch.
Dillon, already two beers deep, shouted, “If she makes it four, she can do whatever she wants to me!”
Then another voice came—one I didn’t recognize.
“If she hits five, she’s coming’ back to mine. Baby, I missed you.”
I blinked.
Wait—what?
I turned toward the crowd, just as Willa lost balance. Her body arched high, boots kicking up mid-air, and she slammed down hard on the mat.
The room went dead quiet.
The bull kept spinning like it hadn’t noticed.
And then that same asshole vaulted onto the mat, pushing past the last layer of sense I had.
He crouched beside her.
“Sweetheart, you okay? Time to come home.”
I didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
“What the fuck?”
I knew it the second that guy opened his mouth. The way he said baby. The way she didn’t flinch. Didn’t push him off. Just sat there, looking dazed like I wasn’t even in the room.
I turned before I could start thinking.
Rick was holding a bottle, mid-pour. I reached over and took it from his hand.
“I’ll settle up later.”
Didn’t wait for a response.