Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Beau
‘So why bull riding?’
She’s tapping her pen against her notepad in a subtle way that shouldn’t be so disconcerting.
The problem is the notepad’s resting on her knee, and every time I so much as glance in that direction, my attention is drawn to something else about her.
Something I really shouldn’t care about.
Like how smooth her skin is, how her fingers are long and elegant, how her knees are pressed together in a way that just seems naturally graceful. What the heck do I know about grace?
It’s just that having her sitting there is distracting as all get-out.
‘Beau?’
‘Huh?’
‘Bull riding. Why?’
I turn to face her. ‘Why not?’
She looks at me like I’ve got ten screws loose. ‘Well, I mean, we could start with the fact there’s a chance you could die every time you go into the arena.’
I make a noise of disagreement.
‘Come on, it’s a high-risk sport.’
‘I don’t have a death wish. I know what I’m doing out there.’
‘That doesn’t change the fact that the rate of accidents is high.’
‘Accidents are a part of life.’ I know that more than most. My mother’s death wasn’t an accident so much as a tragedy.
Unexpected and sudden, losing her out of the blue because of an aneurysm tore us apart.
My father’s death, only a few years ago, was just as tragic, even though he died saving others from a fire. ‘There are no guarantees in anything.’
‘But you’re getting on an angry bull, night after night, week after week.’
‘Yep.’
She stares at me like I’m crazy.
‘Look, the tour does everything they can to make it safe—they don’t want us hurt—and we know how to land when we fall. Believe me when I tell you there’s nothing much more exhilarating than the feeling of conquering a rank-ass bull.’
‘I bet there is.’
I glance across at her, tempted to tell her that sex is as close as it comes, but don’t.
It’d feel a bit like playing with fire and gasoline all at once.
Instead, I quickly shift my focus back to the road, turning the car off the highway toward the hotel.
I’ve been in Fort Worth enough to know the streets well. ‘I’ve just always wanted to do this.’
‘Always?’
I drag a hand over my stubble-roughened jaw as I nod.
‘Since when? Be specific.’
I glance down at her notepad to see she’s half-filled a page.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
I’ve got nothing to hide, but a tide of anxiety rips through me regardless.
My life—my real life—isn’t something I put out there.
Who’d be interested in it, anyway? But even if I was the most well known athlete in the world, there are some things a man has a right to keep to himself.
Some things he can choose not to wear on his sleeve.
‘Beau?’ She clicks her fingers in the air between us. I try not to find her impatience hot, but I’m only human. I’ve always liked a woman who knows what she wants and speaks her mind.
‘Six.’ I frown slightly, trying to get the facts straight. ‘I reckon I was about six. I used to sit up late, watching Justin McBride. Man, I wanted to be just like him.’
‘Why? What was it about him, particularly?’
‘His style. His skill. His showmanship. He was just mesmerising, you know? I couldn’t take my eyes off him.’
‘What did your parents say, when you told them?’
Parents. The word lands hard against my chest, but I don’t show that. I keep my smile locked in place, my frame relaxed, even when that huge, aching void opens up right in my chest.
I don’t have any parents left. It’s just me, the boys, Mackenzie, Beth and Cassidy now.
We’re what’s left of the Donovans. But she’s not asking about my parents today.
I’ve got no doubt Bailey James has done her research and knows they’re not here anymore.
She’s asking what they thought of my career when they were alive.
I can still hear my old man’s voice. He never shouted, you know.
He didn’t have to. With Cole Donovan Senior, it was what he said that mattered, not how.
You are not getting on another bull, Beau.
Not if you want to be a part of this family.
You walk out that door and so much as look at another arena, then you can forget about ever coming back here.
He’d put his big, broad hand on my shoulder, callused and firm, somehow telling me that he loved me, even when his words were like a form of death. The only thing I love more than riding is my family, and he knew it.
I quit the tour that day.
‘They thought I’d grow out of it.’ I’m relieved my voice sounds so light and amused.
Carefree, when the truth is that I can’t look back on that time in my life, the fights we had, without a sense of pain.
I walked away from the thing I loved, because my family demanded it of me, and I’ve lived with that regret ever since.
‘Were they supportive?’
‘They got how much I loved it.’
It’s not an answer and we both know it. Her pen scratches over the paper, but she doesn’t keep pushing.
‘You’re on the road a lot,’ she says.
‘Is that a question?’
‘I’m getting to it.’ I glance across to find her smiling. I’m surprised, because I get the feeling she doesn't let her guard down while working. She seems like a tough nut to crack. Sure enough, when she catches me looking, her expression changes to one of cool professionalism. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s part of the job.’
This time, she calls me on it. ‘That’s not an answer.’
I turn the car off the road and into the hotel forecourt. This place was built in around the sixties. It’s close to the arena, and the whole place is a tribute to this life. Leather, wood, rustic, relaxed and friendly. Huge cactuses stand on either side of the wide front doors.
I glance at the valet approaching the car, then back at Bailey James.
‘I like being home most of all.’ I’m kinda surprised to hear myself answer so honestly.
‘The ranch where I grew up, it’s a special place.
The creek that runs through the fields, the forest, the sunsets, the wild beauty of it.
There’s nowhere I’d rather be. But you can’t make a living stayin’ put. ’
‘Your brother does.’
‘That’s Cole’s destiny,’ I say. ‘He was always gonna take over. He’s just like our old man.’
‘I was sorry to see that he passed away a few years back. That must have been tough.’
My throat tightens in a way that’s familiar to me. It doesn’t matter how much time passes, it wasn’t something we were prepared for, and it still catches me off guard, to think about my dad not being here.
He was just so full of life, one of those guys that lived larger and better than most. He made an impact on everyone he met; he was all the good things. And he died like he lived—honourably, saving people from a fire. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, even when I know it should.
Before I can put my thoughts into an answer that’s appropriate for a journalist, the valet is at my door. I push it open and step out, my boots thudding as they land on the stone driveway. I hand the keys over then come around to remove Bailey James’s bag from the back.
‘What are you doing?’ If I thought her smile was cute, then her frown is even more so. Or maybe it’s not that it’s cute so much as distractingly hot. Distracting because it makes me ache to reach out and smudge my thumb over her full lip, to wipe it back into a smile.
‘Grabbing your bag. Don’t tell me we’re going to have this fight again.’
She looks momentarily flustered. Very unlike the version of herself I can just tell she wants to project. ‘No, no, I mean—you can just drop me off. You don’t have to walk me in or anything.’
I realise she doesn’t understand the situation.
‘I’m staying here too.’
Her eyes widen by the tiniest amount. ‘You are?’
It bothers her for some reason. ‘Sure, sponsors booked it.’
‘Great,’ she says a second later, pushing out a bright smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. ‘That will make it easier to talk.’
‘I’m not so sure about that. It’s not like we’re sharing a room or anything, honey.’
I say it to be deliberately provocative and am rewarded by the parting of her lips and a flushing of her cheeks. ‘Don’t call me honey,’ she says quickly. ‘And I know we’re not sharing a room. Believe me, that’s not remotely on the cards.’
I grin then, wondering if she has any idea how tempting the challenge in her statement is to me.
‘I meant we could meet in the hotel bar or something.’ She’s flustered and, goddamn it, I like it.
I like the way her cheeks flush and her eyes sparkle.
I like the way she fidgets with her fingers and looks like I’ve truly scrambled her ability to think straight.
I like getting under her skin in a way that should make me run a fucking mile.
‘Sounds good. Why don’t you go get settled in and I’ll meet you there?’
It is literally the exact opposite of what I was just thinking. Not only did I not run a mile, I ran right into her instead.
‘Oh.’ I’ve surprised her just about as much as I’ve surprised myself. ‘Yeah, sure,’ she says. ‘Okay. I’ll see you soon.’
Bailey
It’s just work. Whatever undercurrent I thought I imagined between us was just that—my imagination.
Because he’s beyond hot, and I haven’t been with a guy in a really long time.
I wasn’t expecting to come out here and find Beau Donovan so drop-dead gorgeous, but there you have it.
He is, and I just have to deal with that.
I’m a big girl; I can control my responses to him.
I have to. If there’s one thing that’s worse than being known as a nepo baby, it’s getting a reputation as a journalist who sleeps with her subjects.