Page 85 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

"That too," he murmured, eyes glinting with mischief. "But mostly, it's about respect. You respect the horses, the bulls, the arena, and the rest takes care of itself."

He guided her toward a large chestnut horse nickering softly, its coat gleaming like polished mahogany.

Boone ran a hand along its neck, then gestured for Vivi to stroke it. Her fingers hesitated at first, then curved gently over the horse's mane. Boone watched her, her laugh spilling easy and bright as the horse nudged her palm and, for a moment, everything else—the dust, the clatter, the roar of the crowd—faded away.

"You know," he said, settling onto the fence beside her. "I wasn't always this confident around horses. My first lesson, I thought I'd die before I even made it out of the pen."

"Somehow I doubt that."

He smiled, a little rueful. "It's the truth. My mentor, Jed, had this old-school patience. No yelling, no pushing, just quiet insistence that I'd get it if I paid attention. I remember I was maybe seven, shaking so hard on this old sorrel mare named Dusty, my hands slipping on the reins. Jed just watched, calm as a Sunday morning, and said, Son, you've got to feel her, not fight her. Let her tell you what she needs.'"

"He clearly knows a lot about women," she teased quietly.

"He does." Boone laughed. "I fell off a lot. Bruised my ego, my ribs, but every time I got back on because I wanted to get it right. Not just for me, but for him. For the ranch and my family. For anyone who looked at me and thought, maybe he could do it. Maybe he could be someone worth looking up to."

She looked at him and he felt this gentle tug in his chest and the way she held his gaze, curious and trusting and entirely unguarded.

Vivi shifted closer to him, and his arm found her waist naturally—the contact was off-the-charts electric.

"Boone, you already are," she said, almost reverently.

He felt that twist in his chest again, the one that made him want to throw caution to the wind. He leaned just slightly closer, voice dropping, husky with warmth. "You know, showing you all this and having you here with me is different. It makes all the risks worth it."

"I like being part of your world," she said. "Even if it terrifies me a little."

"Good," he murmured, tilting his head toward her, lips hovering near her ear. "Because I like having you here, with me, in all the dirt and dust. It makes it sweeter."

The horses shifted in the pens nearby, stamping softly, but Boone's attention was on her—the way her chest rose and fell, the way her little finger brushed against his as if they'd been doing this forever.

"Jed always said that the best riders aren't the ones who fight the arena. They're the ones who let it teach them and shape them. That's what I want. To be shaped by the work, by the rodeo, by my family. And maybe, in some quiet way, by someone like you."

Vivi's breath caught at that, and a tiny shiver, which she tried to hide, moved down her spine when he shifted closer. He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand.

"And who knows," he added with a sly grin. "Maybe one day, you'll be the reason I never want to leave this world behind."

She tilted her head up at him, heat sparking between them, and he couldn't stop the smile tugging at his lips. But she didn't say anything, just smiled—and it was so fucking beautiful.

Boone pressed a kiss to her temple, the brush light and teasing. More importantly, it was full of promise. And in that sun-drenched, horse-scented moment, with the rodeo buzzing softly around them, he realized that sharing his world with her was something he'd been waiting for his whole life.

Vivi’s chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the day or the thrum of hooves on dirt.

Boone’s gentle words should have made her melt, should have made her throw herself at him without a second thought—but even though she wanted to, she couldn’t. She was just a traveler passing through Bridlewood, which was a pit stop on the way to a promotion that could finally make her feel like she had a place in the world.

Bridlewood was beautiful and ridiculously tempting, but it wasn’t hers and letting herself get swept up in Boone’s easy, heartfelt sweetness would only make leaving that much harder.

She couldn’t answer his gentle, teasing words from earlier in the day because they threatened to unravel the careful plans she’d made for herself. Instead, she clung to the railing and let the fear and excitement, and something dangerously close to awe build inside her.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away as Boone strode toward the gate, his cowboy hat tilted, his boots kicking up little clouds of dust with every step. There was something masculine but graceful about the way he moved—like a predator who knew exactly how to measure danger and flirt with it all at once. Her fingers dug into the railing as he climbed onto the bull, the animal snorting and pawing at the dirt as if it knew what was coming.

The gate slammed open, and Boone was gone.

Eight seconds. Eight heart-stopping, gut-wrenching, gravity-defying seconds. Vivi’s stomach lurched with every buck, twist, and sudden jerk. Raw pride swelled in her chest, because he was always better than she could have imagined.

Her heart hammered in her ears as he held on, body taut, eyes focused, moving in perfect rhythm with the crowd. The arena seemed to shrink until it was just him, the bull, and the impossible bravery it took to ride something that could throw him into the dirt and stomp over him without warning. And when the buzzer finally sounded and Boone tumbled off the animal, Vivi felt a grin tugging at her lips.

It had been terrifying and ridiculously thrilling, and she wouldn’t have wanted to miss a single second.

Without thinking, Vivi moved toward the back of the arena, heart still hammering, cheeks flushed with adrenaline and something more—something that had little to do with the bull and everything to do with the man.