Chapter 23 Dallas
I slam the tailgate shut, clenching my teeth as I do because the sound cracks across the quiet Sunday afternoon like a warning shot.
Shit. It’s Wilder’s truck. All I need right now is for him to pester me about damages when that’s my damn job. I huff out a breath, fisting the coiled whip, and head for the bullpen.
It’s just past the south pasture, surrounded by steel panels bolted down tight. Bruiser isn’t dangerous, just . . . unpredictable. It’s breeding season and Wilder and I need to do a temperament check before we turn him out to the pasture.
I step inside, watching Bruiser as he paces, his thick muscles covered in dust, his nostrils flaring.
“Hey buddy.” I don’t crack the whip yet.
Don’t need to. He’s not showing signs of aggression.
I step toward the middle of the pen, struggling to focus when my mind keeps drifting back to last night.
Guilt ate me up all night and I don’t even know why. I don’t regret anything. I don’t regret kissing her last week. And I’d certainly never regret protecting her by any means necessary.
But I regret upsetting her. Making her feel like she’s a consolation prize. Willow’s too damn smart. Too smart and . . . in tune with me. She knew exactly why I broke off our kiss last week. Why I haven’t brought it up and have avoided her like the plague.
And she didn’t deserve that.
I also regret costing her something she enjoyed because I couldn’t be mature enough to tell Ricky to step outside—and then beat him to a pulp.
Still doesn’t give her the right to tear into me just because I made her safety my business.
Bruiser snorts, pawing at the dirt, then turns away from me.
“Not you too,” I mutter.
A sneaker scuffs a few feet behind me. “Talkin’ to yourself or the bull?”
I don’t take my eyes off Bruiser. “What are you doing here, Silas?”
“Wilder said you’d be here. Wanted to check on you after you ran out last night.”
“I’m not exactly in a position to chat right now,” I say, voice low but enough to be heard.
“Look, I’m heading back and I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
I sigh with one last look at Bruiser before stepping back to lean against the fence. “Thank you for last night, Silas. I mean it. The dinner was nice, the bar after was—well, something to appreciate, I guess. I’ll make it up to you for skipping out early. Now will you go so I can get back to work?”
He squints up at the sun. “Heard about The Blue Branch. Rough night?”
“Rough night.” I rub my jaw. “Rough morning.” I think about Willow in the kitchen. Eyes averted. Shoulders tight. Cheeks flushed. But she didn’t look angry like I’d expected. More lost. Eyes fixed on the swirl of her coffee.
Silas shakes his head like he doesn’t understand. “Then move on and apologize. Or are you forgetting how important it is that she stays?”
“I’m not holding anyone hostage. And I didn’t do nothing wrong.
” My jaw clenches. “She’s the one who didn’t tell me where she’s working, making me play guessing games all damn night.
Didn’t ask me for the night off. Then had the nerve to lash out because I wouldn’t stand back and watch her get assaulted,” I snap, noticing Bruiser square his stance.
Silas raises his arms in defense and steps back. “Dude, you might want to step out of the pen for this conversation.”
I shake my head. I don’t know what’s more tiring—unruly bulls or redheads I can’t seem to say the right thing to.
But it’s not going to be another fucking apology. Said enough of those last night.
It’s a hot reminder of some spirited arguments Millie and I shared.
Had some grit in her too. Couldn’t stand those rows.
One step in the danger zone and I’d pull back.
Put up my white flag. Whatever it took to stop it in its tracks.
Because I hated leaving her mad at me—regardless whose fault it was.
But God help me, I like the way Willow looks at me when she’s mad.
The fire in her eyes. The sharp, snappy wit.
There’s passion there that makes me want to whip her around and kiss that mouth shut.
Pull a desperate whimper out of her instead.
And then there’s the stubbornness, the distance she sets almost instantly—like I’m the last man she should trust.
And that’s the part that keeps me waking up feeling the way I did this morning.
“OK, fine,” Silas continues when I refuse to abandon Bruiser for this conversation. “But one piece of advice—don’t throw the I’m paying you thing at her—nothing pisses off a woman more than feeling like she’s owned.”
“I know that.” In fact, that piece of advice would have come directly from me in any given circumstance. I clench my jaw. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
Silas steps back but doesn’t leave. “All right, well, I’m going to stay and watch . . . in case she knocks you unconscious and I need to call someone.”
“Bruiser’s a he.” I adjust my hat and step toward the bull before he becomes restless. His ears twitch and he tenses. I crack the whip once into the dirt. He barely jerks.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Silas as he leans over the fence. “I meant the redhead that just pulled up in your truck.”
“What?” I look over my shoulder, cursing under my breath when I catch Willow jumping out of the driver’s seat. Freezing when she spots me inside the pen. She’s wearing a cream-colored floral sundress under a denim jacket, with brown boots, and that sunset hair falling down around her worried face.
I bring my eyes back to the bull. Fix them on his shoulders, hooves, muscles, kicks. Making sure I stay within his field of vision. “That’s right, over here,” I mutter.
I hear the car door shut and her boots crunching against the rocky ground.
“Ellie all right?” I ask when she’s within earshot, keeping my voice calm.
“She’s with Cole at the house. Ginger’s with them.”
Right. It’s Sunday. Cole visits on Sundays. “Fine. Why you here?”
Silas clears his throat and shakes his head in a warning. I don’t mean to be dismissive. But I’m not exactly in a friendly environment over here.
“I need to talk to you,” she calls, a hint of urgency in her voice.
I circle slowly, whip dragging beside me in case Bruiser charges. By the looks of it, he’s not convinced I’m worth the effort. “You leaving?” I call back. It’s the only thing I can think of that might be so urgent.
She’s had enough.
“N—no.”
Relief settles in my chest.
“Got my hands full, Willow. Say what you came to say and go.”
She grunts restlessly behind me. “Well,” she whines, then pauses for a moment. “Can I come in there?”
“No,” Silas and I bark at once.
Bruiser snaps his neck around and I crack the whip into the dust again. “Easy now,” I murmur, stepping closer.
“Is he dangerous?” I hear Willow ask. Silas wouldn’t particularly know the answer to this, other than the sheer fact he’s a bull.
“He can be,” I breathe steadily. “Knowing how this usually goes between us, Sunset, think it’s best you say what’s on your mind and go.”
She’s quiet and I can’t tell if she’s holding back from yelling at me some more or deciding she’s got me exactly where she wants me.
But something about the desperate look on her face when she showed up tells me I’m way off base.
I hear metal shuffling behind me. The distinct sound of a latch falling loose. My heart rate kicks up and I snap my head back. “Willow, don’t.”
She’s already inside, pressing her back and arms along the fence, watching the animal with wide eyes.
Christ, this woman.
I take a breath, then extend a gloved hand toward Bruiser’s shoulder, palm flat. “Willow I’m going to ask this once . . .”
“I’m sorry,” she calls in a burning yet steady tone. Not loud though. She keeps her volume in line with mine. From the corner of my eye, I see her rounding the fence to get closer.
“Willow, not now.”
I crack my whip in the direction I want him—away from her. And this way, I’m facing her, meeting her eyes.
One look is all it takes to know she’s not going anywhere until she says what she came to say.
I glance and signal at my brother and he reads me like a book. Saluting me, he takes off in that yellow sports car of his, dust swirling in its wake.
Turning my head back, Willow shifts her gaze from the bull to me. I catch her swallow. “I was out of line last night. I should have told you about the gig.” She closes her eyes, takes a breath then opens them again. “I should have talked to you first.”
My chest constricts at her sincerity, but I cock my head and stay focused. “With the understanding that you’d do it anyway, right? Permission or not?” I couldn’t help adding that last part. I glance at her with a smirk.
She shrugs, her voice a little shaky. “Probably. I wasn’t trying to be a brat or difficult. I was . . . frustrated about something.”
I meet her gaze. Her brown eyes are penetrating, carrying a need that damn near undoes me.
Her eyes flick to the bull, lip pulled between her teeth.
I sigh, the corner of my mouth tugging to ease her tension. “Fair enough, Sunset.”
Her eyes soften and it’s everything I didn’t know I needed.
I don’t know what to do here. Except abandon the damn bull and go to her. Find out what the hell this thing is between us and if she’s feeling it the way I am. But my movements are limited and I can’t do this here.
I’m not . . . ready to.
Chest tight, I turn back to Bruiser. “I appreciate the apology, Willow. But I need you to step outside the fence.”
She doesn’t move. “You’re still mad.”
“I’m standing in front of a twelve-hundred-pound bull. I literally can’t be mad right now,” I say calmly.
“Oh,” she sighs, eyes flicking to the animal. “You going to ride him?”
“No.” I step back to give him some space, eyes still locked on him. “Checking to see if he’s ready to be around others.”
“And?”
Bruiser huffs, drops his head, and steps back. A sign of submission.
You and me both, buddy.
I exhale, stepping back and muttering low. “And it’s about time I stop fightin’ it.”