Page 81 of Slow Burn

Before I know it, I’m off of Willow and on the ground, the steer tied up tight.

The crowd roars around me and I jump up, pumping my fist in the air. I don’t have to see the time on the screen to know I fucking obliterated whoever was in first.

My run was the cleanest I’ve ever had. I was focussed, homed in, fucking unstoppable. All because of that beautiful brunette in the stands. I turn around to find her, but she’s already hopped over the fence and is running toward me. She jumps when she reaches me, wrapping her legs around my waist as I catch her in my arms.

I spin her around, her laughter bubbling out of her.

“Beck, that was amazing,” she says.

I set her down on the ground, but I don’t pull away from her, I don’t let go. I bury my face in her hair as I hug her close, my hands finding the dip of her waist and holding on. The feeling of her in my arms is the only thing grounding me, reminding me that this is real. That we did it.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I say.

When she pulls out of our hug, I bring my hands to the sides of her face, admiring her. Her dark lashes are wet, chocolate eyes shiny as she gazes up at me.

“I fucking love you, Trouble.”

“I fucking love you, Bossman.”

“I’m taking you out tonight to celebrate,” I say. “A real date.”

Her perfect pink lips slide into that gorgeous smile. “I’d love nothing more.”

We’re not in Sage Valley anymore. We don’t have to keep this a secret here. So, in front of the crowd, I plant my lips on Lyla’s, and kiss her deeply.

Winning the rodeo felt good, but leaning against my truck outside the quaint bed and breakfast I booked feels like all of my dreams coming true at once.

My heart swells in my chest as I wait outside the white farmhouse with the wraparound porch for her to step outside.

Lyla is the girl I wish I could have taken on my first date, shared my first kiss with, asked to come with me to prom. But I couldn’t. I spent all those years pining for her, and now I feel like a teenager again. I’m getting a do over.

Not only that, now I have a real chance at keeping the ranch. I try not to think about the unanswered text message burning the inside of my pocket from my phone. The listing price the realtor sent was beyond anything I could have imagined, and I’d be stupid not to sell.

But I guess I’m a stupid man, because I’d give up all the money in the world for my family, for the people I care about. Now, Lyla is at the top of that list.

Stupid in love, is what I am.

The sun is low in the sky, but not quite setting, so the whole area is cast in a warm, golden glow. When Lyla steps out through the screen door and down the steps onto the lawn, she’s lit up like an angel.

She’s wearing a soft white dress that ends just above her knees, showing off her lean, tanned legs that disappear into brown western style boots. The hair she normally wears piled into a bun or clipped up is loose, cascading in long waves down her back. But it’s her eyes that capture my attention as she nears me, glowing almost amber in the sun. Her plush pink lips widen into a smile that makes her eyes damn near glitter.

She’s a cowboy’s dream girl. She’s my dream girl.

“Hi, Bossman,” she says, reaching up and wrapping her long slender arms around the back of my neck.

“Hi, Trouble,” I say, resting my forehead against hers. “You look beautiful.”

She thanks me by pressing her lips into mine, and the only reason I break off is to open the passenger door of the truck. Lyla climbs inside and I close it behind her.

I’m taking Lyla Morgan on a date.

Chapter 31

Lyla

Beck took me to dinner at the only nice restaurant in town, an Italian place with white table cloths and candles on the tables, and water in a glass with a stem. He was the perfect gentleman, pulling my chair out for me and holding my hand across the table.

It was everything I would have wanted out of a date, not that long ago. But being back in Sage Valley has changed me, it’s reminded me of my roots, all the parts of myself I had shut away and locked up because I was ashamed of them, afraid to be judged, talked about. Afraid to let loose. So relief and excitement wash over me in a dizzying wave as we walk hand in hand up to the local bar.