Chapter 8
Walked straight out, swung onto Shakespeare like I’d done it a thousand times. My jaw was locked so tight I tasted blood. I didn’t look back. Didn’t need to.
By the time I made it back to the ranch, the sun was gone and so was the part of me that thought she was different.
I left the lights off. Dropped onto the couch with the bottle. Still in my jeans, boots, and that goddamn shirt she liked.
I drank fast.
Didn’t even feel it going down.
Just kept drinking, trying to drown whatever the hell that was. Trying not to see her face. That kiss. That smile. That stupid, stupid feeling like I’d finally found someone real.
Should’ve known better.
No more pretty eyes. No more strangers with soft laughs and harder secrets.
She fooled me once. That’s on me.
There won’t be a second time.
The couch was stiff, the room too quiet. I sat there like I’d been dropped into someone else’s house.
I drank because it kept my hands busy.
Because thinking was worse.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her on that bull.
Saw him climbing up beside her.
Heard his voice.
Baby.
I gritted my teeth and stood.
Couldn’t sit still anymore. Needed to hit something that wouldn’t talk back.
I grabbed the axe from behind the door and walked out into the dark. Didn’t care where I was going. Just knew I needed to move.
The woodpile was there. Waiting. Like it always was. I set up a log. Swung once. Didn’t even feel the impact. Just let the rhythm take over.
“They always act sweet,” I muttered. “Make you think you’re safe.”
Crack.
Another swing.
“Then they let you find out the hard way.”
I kept going until my shoulders burned and I couldn’t breathe straight.
Then I dropped the axe and stumbled back inside.
And that’s when I saw it.
The pie dish.
Still on the counter.
Still fucking there like none of this ever happened.
I walked over. Picked it up.
And without thinking, I threw it across the kitchen.
It shattered into the cabinets.
Crust, glaze, broken ceramic everywhere.
Then I heard it.
A scream.
High, panicked.
The kind that cuts through bone.
The dogs next door went ballistic. Snapping, barking, losing their damn minds.
“What the hell…” I muttered. “Why are the dogs—”
They only do that for one thing.
But no.
No way.
I stumbled toward the window, leaned both hands on the frame, and squinted out into the dark.
What the fuck.
Why the hell is Hope here?
And why is she hanging sideways off her own damn saddle?
The screaming didn’t stop.
Another voice now—closer, louder, female and furious.
“Jamie, calm down! Put me down! Stop—stop, please—I said please, goddammit!”
I blinked.
No. No way. I’m drunk, but not that drunk.
But there it was.
Hope’s horse.
And Willa.
Willa in the saddle. Or… halfway falling out of it.
“What the fuck are you doing on Hope’s horse?” I said out loud.
No one answered.
Because no one could hear me over the chaos.
Willa kept pleading with the damn horse like it had a conscience.
“Jamie, please! Just one minute, okay? One little minute—please!”
Jamie didn’t give a shit. Not about her, not about Hope, not about anything.
I stood by the window, too drunk to tell if this was some weird city-riding technique I’d never seen before… or if Willa just figured this was how she’d make me fall for her again.
“Cash! CASH!” she yelled. “Hey! Hellooo!”
And then—because why the fuck not—Jamie trotted straight through the closed gate like it wasn’t even there and headed up toward the porch.
I laughed. Loud. Couldn’t help it.
That horse fucking loved me.
He stopped dead in front of the door. Not beside it. Not near it. Right in front of it. Like a fricking trained soldier.
And somehow—miraculously—Willa, still hanging halfway out of the saddle, managed to stretch her arm far enough to grab the handle.
“Hey! Hi! Cash, we’re coming in, if that’s alright!”
At that point, it was getting real hard to stay mad.
The door creaked open, and there I was.
Standing in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, pieces of pie dish still on the floor behind me.
And Jamie—smartest damn ex-rodeo horse I ever owned—had officially brought her home.
“Sorry to bother you, Cash,” Willa said, completely calm.
Like she hadn’t just ridden my ex’s horse straight into the center of my damn living room.
I let her finish whatever speech she’d rehearsed on the way over.
“I just need you to know this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “You mean the part where you stole my ex’s horse and didn’t stop till you reached my carpet? Because if he shits on it, you’re cleaning it up.”
“Of course. Consider it handled,” she said, nodding like this was a normal Tuesday. “So, anyway—sorry again. Everything just happened so fast and… would you maybe help me down before she bolts again?”
“That’s the one thing I’m not worried about,” I muttered, stepping closer. “Horses are more reliable than most people.”
She winced. “Okay, yeah. I caught that one.”
Somehow—don’t ask me how—she managed to twist out of the saddle and tumble straight onto the couch with a half-graceful, half-suicidal thump.
“Jesus,” she muttered. “Didn’t think I’d survive that.”
“What surprises me,” I said, arms still crossed, “is that after one day of pony lessons, you thought you were ready to ride Dalmore’s most notorious stud.”
“It wasn’t the plan,” she said. “But you disappeared so fast, it felt like the only option left was…”
“Stealing Hope’s horse.”
“I didn’t steal him,” Willa shot back. “It’s technically possible I may have exaggerated my riding skills, and—thanks to Hope’s generosity—borrowed him.”
She didn’t grin this time.
Just looked at me from the couch, hair a mess, chest still rising like she hadn’t fully caught her breath.
“I panicked,” she said. “And you left.”
I didn’t answer.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
But that didn’t mean I was ready to let her off the hook.
“Let me get this straight. You lied to my ex, stole her damn horse, rode her through town in the middle of the night, and nearly broke your neck trying to reach my front door?”
Willa lifted a hand.
“I prefer the term… improvisational problem solving.”
I didn’t laugh.
Didn’t move.
Just looked at her—this wild, completely unpredictable woman lying on my couch like she belonged there.
And for a second, I almost forgot why I was mad.
Almost.
“So what was so damn important?”
She didn’t answer. Just held up her phone.
A video.
She hit play.
There she was—on the bull.
Holding steady. Rick’s voice in the background, yelling something over the cheering.
I saw the look on her face.
The way she glanced toward the phone—toward me.
Her eyes lit up.
And for a second, none of the rest of it mattered.
She hadn’t fallen.
She’d actually done it.
And whether I wanted to or not… I was proud of her.
“I did it,” she said softly.
“Congrats,” I muttered.
“You’re not happy?”
“I am. Thanks for the update. Good night, Willa.”
I turned toward Jamie, grabbed the reins, and started walking him toward the barn.
Behind me—silence. She didn’t move.
“I know you’re mad at me,” she called out. “But just because I didn’t talk about my ex doesn’t mean he means anything to me. You get that, right?”
“I get it,” I said without turning. “Thanks for that too. Time to head home.”
Still nothing.
So I kept walking. One step at a time. Maybe she’d get the hint.
“Cash,” she said. “I don’t feel anything for him. He just followed me. I left to start over. Part of that list? It was because of him. Because there were so many things I wasn’t allowed to do when I was with him. And now I finally did them. Because of you.”
I stopped.
Just for a second.
Fingers tight around the reins.
Didn’t turn.
Didn’t answer.
But I heard her.
She moved fast.
Before I knew what was happening, she was in front of me, both hands on my face, forcing me to look at her. I froze—caught off guard. My body forgot how to resist.
I hated the way she did this to me. To my chest. My hands. My goddamn bloodstream.
I’d told myself never again.
But her scent hit me like a memory I hadn’t meant to keep. Her skin was soft. Too soft. I wanted it on me. Everywhere.
“Cash,” she said, eyes locked on mine. “I’m gonna say something, and I need you to really hear it.”
I didn’t blink.
“Trying the mechanical bull was on my list. That part’s true. But the three minutes? That was never part of it.”
Something started to stir in the back of my mind. A flicker of recognition. A maybe. A fuck, is she saying what I think she’s saying?
“When you shouted that dumb bet across the bar,” she went on, “all I could think was: I want to make it to three minutes. For you.”
Then she laughed. Just a little.
“Okay, I didn’t. I flew off. But I tried.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Everything in me was short-circuiting.
“You get what I’m saying?” she asked, softer now.
And somehow, I laughed.
“So what you’re saying is… I bet you mine?”
She smiled. “Kinda…”
I swear to God, I’ve never picked a girl up that fast in my entire life.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, and I held her like I already knew she’d ruin me—in the best fucking way possible.
I started carrying her toward the stairs, not even pretending to play it cool.
Between kisses, she pulled back just enough to ask, “What about Jamie? He’s still standing in the middle of your living room.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t stress about Jamie. I’d stress about the fact it’s the night before our wedding. And I bet I can break more rules with you than you can imagine.”
“Great. I hate rules anyway.”
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