Chapter 35
Beau
“You’re on goddamn fire, Banks,” Lucky, one of the bullfighters, said as we exchanged a fist bump.
“Must be something in the Midwest air.” I joked, heading toward the locker room.
This arena was bigger, meaning we actually had a proper changing area instead of some makeshift setup. But as I rounded the corner, I caught a scent—strawberries and vanilla.
I froze.
It was unmistakable.
No fucking way.
I turned around, and there she was—standing and laughing with Kline as he gestured down to one of the pens where their bulls were kept. I knew he was here with his stock, but she never came. Standing next to her was Harleigh’s unmistakable dark hair, so it had to be them.
My chest tightened, and I felt the weight of the rope in my hand, like a lifeline I wasn’t sure I could trust. There was always this gnawing fear—what if she ran? What if she saw something in me that made her leave, just like my mom did? I could already feel the possibility of her slipping away.
I clenched the rope tighter and walked straight toward them.
“What’re ya’ll doing here?”
“Oh. Hello to you too.” Fable quipped back.
I slipped in beside her and tipped my chin toward the door. “You just get here?”
Harleigh furrowed her brows. “No. We watched you kick ass yesterday.”
I shook my head in disbelief. No way they’d been here last night. “Are ya’ll staying at the hotel we’re at?”
“Yeah. Kline set us up. We’re living large at the best budget hotel in the country.”
Fable’s cheeks flushed as she nudged Harleigh. “She’s kidding, Kline. Thank you. It’s a great room.”
Kline chuckled, unfazed. “Gotta have my girls get some content for Lucky Lady.”
“How the hell haven’t I seen you?” I asked, my gaze locking onto Fable’s.
She turned to Kline, giving his shoulder a pat. “Thanks for showing us Lucky Lady’s pen. I think we got plenty of footage back here. We’ll go take our seats and meet you afterward.”
She reached out and grabbed my forearm. The contact had my dick twitching.
She waved off Harleigh. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
“I’ll save you a seat, Fabs,” she called before disappearing down the hall.
“What’re you doing?” she gritted out, eyes blazing.
“Wondering what the hell you’re doing,” I shot back.
Her jaw clenched. “I’m working. Just like you. Working.”
“The fuck? You didn’t think to tell me you were here? I performed all day yesterday, we went to dinner, would’ve invited you.”
She exhaled sharply, shifting her weight between her feet. “I—”
I tilted my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “You what, Fable?”
She shook her head. “I thought it’d be easier this way.”
“I told you.” My voice dropped an octave, thick with possession. “You are mine. And when you’re mine, you tell me where you’ll be.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she swallowed, her throat bobbing as she looked away for the briefest second before meeting my gaze again. “That’s not how this works, Banks.”
Ohhh, she broke out the last name.
She meant business.
Too bad I never cared much for rules. Or lines. Or whatever game she thought she was playing.
Because the second she said Banks, all fire and ice in the same breath, my cock twitched like it heard its damn name.
She wanted to act all proper? Fine.
I’d ruin that composure by the end of this hallway.
I stepped closer, invading her space, my hand grazing her hip. “Then explain to me exactly how it works, baby. Because from where I’m standing, you showing up here, sneaking around, acting like we don’t have unfinished business—” I shook my head. “That ain’t gonna fly.”
Her nostrils flared, her chest rising and falling faster now. “I didn’t sneak—”
“You didn’t tell me. That’s the same damn thing.” I brushed the hem of her jacket, the tension between us sizzling like a live wire.
Fable’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. She pressed her hands flat against my chest.
“You don’t get to do that,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “You don’t get to ignore me for a week and then act like I did something wrong.”
“I know,” I admitted, my voice raw. “I fucked up.”
She exhaled sharply, her brows knitting together. “Then why? Why did you?”
I was fucking terrified.
Terrified of how much I wanted her, of how she consumed my every thought. I’d spent the last week convincing myself that pulling away was the right thing to do. That if I buried myself in practice, if I focused on my career, I wouldn’t have to face the truth of what she was becoming to me.
I’d done exactly what I swore I wouldn’t—exactly what my dad had done to my mom. Put work first. Kept her at a distance. Thought that if I left her alone, if I didn’t get too close, it would be safer.
Only it wasn’t safe. It was fucking torture.
She was standing in front of me, looking at me like I’d hurt her. I had no excuse, no way to explain that the only reason I’d stayed away was that I was too damn scared of losing myself in her.
Of losing her altogether.
“Because I’m scared.”
“I don’t know what to do with this, Beau,” she said barely above a whisper.
The speaker in the hallway announced that the doors were officially opening and people were filing in. I’d have to be out for the opening day introductions and prayer.
“Come to dinner with us to celebrate tonight. We can talk after.”
The corner of her lips curled into a smirk. “What if you lose?”
I shot her a cocky grin. “Baby, that’s not happening.”
She grabbed my shirt. “You’re incredibly cocky, you know?” she murmured, her mouth hovering over mine.
It was taking every ounce of restraint I had not to close the space between us, not to press her against the wall and remind her exactly why I had every right to be cocky.
She stepped back with a teasing tilt of her head, her big green eyes widened enough to feign innocence.
Her pointed chin lifted slightly, the smooth curve of her jawline sharp enough to cut.
High cheekbones dusted with the faintest flush made her look effortlessly ethereal, and those lips—soft, pink, and entirely too tempting—curled at the corners as if she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
“Hope you don’t eat dirt out there.”
Before I could fire back, she spun on her heel and strutted down the hall, her hips swaying like she knew damn well I was watching.
She was small but mighty, all lean curves and confidence.
The frayed edges of her jeans skimmed the floor with each step, hugging thick hips that flared just right, her denim jacket snug around her shoulders.
Her long, honey-blonde waves cascaded down her back.
I chuckled, shaking my head as I turned toward the locker room to resin up my rope.
“I am so fucked.”