Page 76 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I smiled, warmth blooming in my chest. I did feel better. For once, I wasn’t drowning in my thoughts or spiraling into old habits. I was here, present and immersed. For so long, I had been terrified that after Mike, I’d be completely alone.

But this ranch? It was starting to feel like mine.

I had a project. A purpose. A place where I fit, something I hadn’t realized I was searching for until I found it.

“Thanks, Harls,” I murmured.

“See you later.”

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. I had spent so much time defining myself by how others saw me—letting their opinions shape my worth, their judgments dictate who I was supposed to be. I hadn’t realized how good it felt to be appreciated just for being me, for my accomplishments, for something I built with my own hands.

Harleigh had always been the one who saw me for who I was, who never tried to change me or fit me into some mold. It wasn’t until I was away from the noise of the city, away from the constant buzz of people telling me what I was too much of—too weird, too modest, too difficult, too not enough—that I truly valued her friendship. Out here, it was easier to see who mattered.

I sank onto the large leather couch, kicking my feet up and letting out a slow breath. My phone dinged, pulling me from my thoughts.

Harls: Dad said you’re missing the pulled pork tonight. Come by if you change your mind. XX

I wasn’t going. But knowing I could—that someone wanted me there—felt like enough.

I was already in bed, curled under the covers, my phone propped up on some pillows beside me as I scrolled mindlessly through my streaming apps.

There was nothing on that I actually wanted to watch, but I kept scrolling anyway, hoping something would catch my interest. Out here, we didn’t get cable—just mediocre Wi-Fi that made streaming anything a gamble. Half the time, it buffered right in the middle of the best parts, and I wasn’t in the mood to fight with it.

I sighed, tossing my phone onto the bed beside me and staring up at the ceiling. Even with exhaustion sitting heavy in my bones, my mind wouldn’t shut off. The success of the auction, the way Harleigh had looked at me with pride, the text she sent—it all lingered.

I pulled the blankets tighter around me, sinking deeper into the mattress, willing sleep to come. As I stared at the ceiling, restless and annoyed, something clicked in the back of my mind.

Bull riding.

That was why Roger had invited me over—why Harleigh had texted about dinner. The championship round for the weekend was on. While Dalton and Beau were still in the top fifteen, it was an important weekend for them, at least from what some of the ranchers were saying at the auction earlier.

I turned my head toward my phone, which was currently playing some half-hearted rewatch of a show I’d seen years ago. I barely remembered putting it on, and I definitely wasn’t paying attention.

Fuck it.

I sat up, grabbed my phone, and swiped over to the streaming app that aired the bull riding events. It took a second for the screen to load, the little spinning wheel making me hold my breath as I silently prayed the weak Wi-Fi wouldn’t betray me. Finally, the broadcast came to life.

Bright arena lights. The hum of the crowd. The deep drawl of the announcer setting up the next ride.

The event had already been on for some time, and they were setting up for the top five rides.

I squinted at the screen, scanning the arena until I saw a familiar name pop up on the broadcast.

Dalton Culpepper – 87.5 to advance

My stomach tightened as the camera panned to him in the chutes, wrapping his hands tight around his bull rope, nodding once to signal he was ready.

The bull beneath him was shifting aggressively in the pen. It didn’t come from Twisted Spur—we were too far from the East Coast for stock to be transported that far—but I made a mental note of the ranch name branded on the bull’s side. I’d have to look them up, follow them on socials, see how they marketed their bulls.

The gate flung open, and my breath lodged in my throat.

Dalton shot out into the arena, his body rocking hard with the force of the first jump. He didn’t turn with the bull the way he should’ve. The bull jerked right, and Dalton leaned left, throwing his balance completely off.

My heart was in my stomach.

Hold on. Hold on.

But he didn’t.