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She holds up one hand. “It’s not what you think.”
“Talk to me,” I demand. “I know I left you, but I’m here now.I’m here, Fallon.”
“Stop.Stop,” Fallon hisses, using the leverage I have on her to pull me in closer. She holds my cheek with her free hand. “You don’t have to do this, Koty.”
“I’m the older sister with anger issues,” I growl. “I protect you.”
Fallon’s face softens. “Dakota, it’s okay.”
“No more secrets,” I beg. Tears hit my eyes. “Tell me. Now.”
Fallon gives a big, dramatic sigh. “Fine.” Then she grins. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll show you.”
I can’t watch.
But even as I’m on the verge of absolutely losing it, I do.
My gaze is glued to Fallon on the back of a raging black bull named Man Killer.
“Rope the moon,” I whisper as Fallon jerks wildly. I wince as her muscular body gets thrashed for a full three seconds before she flies off the bull.
She tucks and rolls, landing flat on her back in the pasture and the dirt. She lies there a long second before she slowly pulls herself to standing. A cowboy lopes up to her and helps her brush herself off.
We’re at Old Cowhand Farms twenty minutes south of Resurrection. Owned by rodeo agent Pappy Starr and an old-school rodeo cowboy named Jerry Malone, Fallon’s been taking bull riding lessons for the last six months. The reason for all her secrets. And her bruises.
At the crunch of grass, I lower myself off the fence and turn to see pearly whites and a Stetson the size of Texas. Pappy Starr, stopwatch in his hand, swaggers his big belly up to me.
Instantly, I don’t like him.
He’s going to get my sister killed.
“You know,” he begins. “I clocked that girl from a mile away, coming up to me with a dream and a dare. And I thought to myself, plucked from obscurity. That’s how I’m gonna tell the story of how I found this pretty little girl.”
He clicks his stopwatch, narrows his beady eyes at me. “Dakota McGraw. The saner of the sisters.”
“Sane, but no less murderous,” I warn. “I don’t want my sister hurt.”
“I don’t want her hurt, either.” He turns an eye toward Fallon, who’s disappearing into the bunkhouse. “God help her, she’s got a horrible fucking attitude, but she’s got a face that means money. She better take care of it.”
I point a finger at him. “You better take care ofher.”
Pappy looks down at the stopwatch. “2.3 seconds. Time isn’t good enough.”
“She’s good.” I can’t stop the bite in my voice.
Pappy cackles, his belly bouncing. “We’ll see about that.”
Fallon comes limping out of the bunkhouse, changed into fresh clothes. “How’d I look?” she asks, breaking the ensuing silence.
I open my arms to her. “Absolutely crazy.”
She laughs, pride alight in her eyes, and then throws herself into my hug. I squeeze her tight. When we pull apart, Pappy is sauntering toward the bunkhouse.
“I don’t like him,” I announce, shaking my head.
“No one does.” With that, she hooks her arm through mine and leads me to a picnic table in the middle of the field.
I open the small cooler of waters and beers we’ve brought with us. “He’s using you to make money, Fallon. He doesn’t care if you get hurt.”
