Thirty-One | Colson
My body shifts as I drape my arm across the other side of the bed. I expect to feel another person’s warmth beside me—the kind of warmth unique to her. It soaked into my skin last night, injecting a high into my bloodstream that not even riding can replicate.
There’s something satisfying about tainting something so untouchable.
Harlow has always been the dirt under my nails that I could never scrub away—something about her was memorable. Familiar.
Now I don’t want to tarnish any trace of her.
I had a taste, and I’m hooked.
I want to cross every line. I want to summon those soft moans and whimpers that fall from her lips like a hymn.
I want to mutter filthy, vulgar things into her ear while I destroy her beautiful body with mine.
I want to feel that odd sensation of contentment again that settled into the fabric of my being the moment I wrapped her in my arms.
Hearing her breath softly beside me was the first time my demons fell into silence.
A part of me is terrified to find out what that means, especially since the cold sheets on her side have my heart plummeting into my gut.
Does she regret it? I sure as hell don’t.
I lift my hand, dragging it over my face in an attempt to clear the lingering sleep. Turning my head, I see the time glowing on the clock. Seeing that it’s nine a.m. has my pulse stuttering.
I never sleep this late.
That’s what I get for staying up late to cling to her like she’s my lifeline in a world that’s only ever swallowed me. She felt like home tucked into my side with her hand splayed across my chest, a dream consuming her while I lay awake, contemplating the one I somehow fell out of love with.
Each event lately, it’s not competing I look forward to—it’s the bright, ecstatic look flaring in those baby blue eyes when the dust settles.
It’s the proof of hard work and dedication bouncing around that arena like a ball of sunshine that can’t be extinguished.
It’s the feeling swelling inside my chest that makes me not terrified of failing Harlow, but eager to keep helping her reach a goal that people like me thought she wasn’t capable of after an injury like that.
Sure, it’s terrifying as hell to watch her every time she lowers on the back of a beast, but I know deep down she’s starting to control her fear—push it to the depths where it can’t reach her.
And if it does and she cowers out there, there’s a team to help distract the bull.
Matt has saved my ass more times than I can count.
It’s why there are bullfighters out there with us, to make sure we continue to feel as safe as we can, surrendering our lives to a sport that is a constant gamble on your life.
And as much as I hate to admit it, we dance with the Grim Reaper, but he rarely claims souls as often as he used to.
It’s why we wear protective gear. Just like every sport, it evolves; new rules and regulations are implemented to ensure we’re as protected as possible by the time the gate flies open.
Injuries, on the other hand, are a part of the game and always will be.
Harlow is more than capable of holding her own, but my fears are knitted to my heart like imperfect patchwork barely holding me together.
I resented Harlow. She was a walking reminder of the fact I’m continuing to chase a dream that should’ve been Paisley and I’s. Loathing Harlow because she was the first woman to compete with me at the professional level was the easiest emotion to feel.
And when she got injured in Jacksonville …
When her fragile body was sprawled out on that arena floor under unforgiving hooves, the memory of Paisley’s accident was injected into my skull and blanketed my eyes.
It snapped something inside me. Seeing Harlow ride constantly plunged me back into the worst moment of my life. She turned the man who was bruised by his past into a broken one, because every time I saw her, I hated myself.
Hated that I let Paisley ride that day.
Hated that I was competing against Harlow when it should’ve been my twin.
Hated that I was the reason Paisley was in that hospital fighting for her life for weeks, and nothing was the same when we went home.
Hated that Harlow was a reminder of my mistakes.
Tossing the covers off, I swing my legs over the bed and head to the dresser.
I pull on a pair of jeans, slip on a clean T-shirt, and head down to the kitchen.
Harlow’s boots aren’t in the entryway like they always are.
The stillness plaguing the house tells me she isn’t here.
Dread starts to snake around my rib cage, disintegrating to ash when I look out the window to see the stable doors parted.
Knowing she’s with Cosmos gives me enough peace of mind to sit down in the office for a few minutes to double-check on the massive order of dirt I reserved for delivery this week.
Once I see the delivery date, I check it off on the calendar hanging on the wall, failing to ignore the yellow circle around April 16th.
The approaching date has dread looming over me, a haze that will grow thicker each day I get closer, until it completely devours me.
Not that it matters. That day will always belong to Paisley, and somehow, I need to find a way to open myself up enough to tell Harlow.
Ten minutes later, I’m pacing across the driveway with two cups of coffee.
I walk through the stable, greeting my horses like I always do before slipping out through the back.
When I step outside, Cosmos is nudging her nose into Harlow’s palms in the center of the round pen, where we also practice on bulls.
My breath gets caught in my throat, and I pause, watching in awe as Harlow gently reaches a hand around, stroking the mare’s neck.
“Good girl,” Harlow soothes in a voice that is as calming to me as it is to the horse. She drags her hand down Cosmos’ nose. “Look at all the progress we’ve made.”
I creep toward the fence, trying my hardest not to startle either of them. Harlow has been working her ass off with Paisley’s horse when we aren’t training, and it shows. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s riding her soon, given the unique bond connecting them.
March turns into April in a few days, and something in my heart short-circuits as I realize I’ll only have a little over a month left with Harlow before the World Finals.
“Amazing, isn’t she?” Harlow says, feeling my presence.
I swallow the tickle of emotion stinging my throat. Harlow may be talking about Cosmos, but I’m looking at her, thinking the same thing.
I brace my arms on the railing as Harlow turns away from the horse and slowly walks toward me. A smile tugs at her lips when she hears hooves following her, but Cosmos stops short, eyeing me cautiously as Harlow approaches.
Somehow, it’s like Cosmos knows I’m the reason her owner will never be able to ride her again.
I hold out the cup of coffee to Harlow, and she reaches for it. Taking a sip, she hums under her breath. “Thank you.”
I lift my own to my mouth, attempting to let the scalding hot drink wash all the questions on the tip of my tongue down my throat, but it doesn’t.
“You’re out here early,” my voice cracks. “Couldn’t sleep?”
The rim of her mug covers the tilt of her mouth. “Wake up missing me, cowboy?”
It may have taken me a while to fall asleep, but once I did, I woke up feeling more rested than I have in a while.
I scoff, but the lame sound I end up making has her smile damn near rivaling the blinding morning sun beating down on our backs.
Huffing out an exhale, I don’t bother hiding the thought that has been plaguing my mind since I woke up alone. “Do you regret it?”
The soft column of her throat that my tongue explored last night moves with her swallow.
She doesn’t answer, and the hammering behind my ribs intensifies as she bends down, setting the cup of coffee in the dirt.
I do the same with mine, tucking my hands into my pockets nervously, waiting for her response.
Closing the few steps stretching between us, she nears the fence, reaching her arms through to clasp onto my T-shirt. She gently tugs me toward her, her soft lips pressing into mine through the metal rails.
Removing a hand from the pocket of my jeans, I press the pads of my fingers into her throat to keep her steady and deepen the kiss.
She opens for me, a whimper escaping when I lightly brush my tongue against hers.
This fence between us is like keeping a starving animal from sustenance it’s been deprived of.
Harlow Hartt is stirring something inside my soul that has been suppressed for years.
She pulls back, gliding her lips to my jaw. She presses her mouth there in a soft kiss and whispers, “No. I don’t regret it.”
Her words sink through my flesh and into my bloodstream like a shot of adrenaline. She reaches back down, picking up her coffee. The soft pink hue dusting the apples of her cheeks and her nose has me wanting to paint that response across her entire body like she’s my canvas.
Harlow turns from me to Cosmos and reaches into the back pocket of her Wrangler jeans that hug her curves in a way that has me wanting to fill my palms with her tempting ass. My cock twitches at the thought, and I grit my teeth.
Would it be so bad if we went back to bed?
She said she didn’t regret it, after all. Thank fuck. Because it’s much easier to indulge in my growing obsession with her if she wants me as much as I want her.
She pulls out a treat and looks back at me. “I want to try something. Will you hold this?”
“Are you sure she’s ready?” I ask.
Harlow nods. “I think so, she just needs a little nudge.”
I hold out my hand, palm up, and she drops the treat in my hand, stepping out of the way.
Cosmos peers at me skeptically for a moment, looking me over interestedly before taking a few shallow steps toward me.
My body freezes as she paces closer, holding my gaze.
The closer Cosmos gets, those whiskey-colored eyes with her white-and-brown painted coat nearly knock me off my feet.
I stay firmly planted with my boots rooted to the dirt, too terrified to move and ruin a moment I thought I’d never see again.
Her hot breath fans across my palm before her lips tickle my skin as she nibbles the treat out of my hand. My eyes widen with shock, emotions clawing at my insides, wanting to erupt. Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away.
Harlow timidly approaches, scratching behind Cosmos’ ears in praise. The grin on her face damn near has me crumbling at her feet, ready to worship her for doing something I thought was hopeless.
She has no idea the weight this moment has on me.
“Good girl, Cosmos,” Harlow praises, her voice as soft as her fingertips brushing over her mane.
I gently reach up to pet her nose in long, gentle strokes. “Thank you,” I tell Harlow, clearing my throat of the emotion threatening to burst out of me.
A vibration tickles my thigh, rattling me out of the memories that have started bleeding around the corners of my vision from being this close to Cosmos.
I take a cautious step back to avoid hindering Harlow’s progress and see a message from Matt.
Matt: Big River Rodeo. You in?
My gaze slices to Harlow, catching her holding Cosmos’ head in her hands with her fingers splayed over her jaw.
“Want to do something fun today?”
She peers at me with interest. “What about riding?”
“Well, if you hurry your ass up and put Cosmos away, we can warm up in the gym and sneak in a quick session before we head out.”
She blows out a raspberry, rolling her eyes with a smile so full of sass that I want to kiss it off her. “I thought you were going to joke around and say I’d be riding you or something along those lines.”
I type out a message back to Matt and put my phone back in my pocket.
A playful grin pulls at my mouth. “That could be arranged. I know how much you like it now when I don’t take it easy on you, dust bunny.”
If she were closer, I’m sure she would slap me in that joking way she does when I’m teasing her.
Probably better if she doesn’t because I might not be able to control myself if she puts her hands on me.
Harlow’s hands are soft when she’s touching me, but rough like mine after years of devoting herself to this sport.
Fuck, I can’t wait until those fingers wrap around the base of my cock before her lips do.
I bite back my grin when she doesn’t say anything. She stands there in the warm morning sunlight with her blonde hair flowing down her back like a rogue drop of sunshine. “Put Cosmos away and meet me in the barn.”
“Well,” she stutters, attempting to collect herself. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing after?”
I turn to head back into the stable but stop and glance over my shoulder at her. “Be a good girl and do what you’re told, and I might tell you.”