Page 51 of Stay Wild Darlin’

We chatted, the conversation easy enough. I asked where Harleigh was, figuring she’d be here too, but Fable shrugged.

“She left town for a few days,” she said, not offering more than that.

I nodded, unsure if I should ask or let it be. I didn’t have a ton of experience navigating these kinds of moments. When to ask questions. When to back off.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to come up with anything else to say.

The TV mounted in the corner caught my eye, and there he was, Beau behind the chutes, helping Dalton get settled on his bull.

My breath caught a little at the sight. The helmet on his head, the tightness in his jaw, the way he reached for the rope with muscle memory.

Fable leaned forward, smiling. “There they are.”

The camera person clearly knew what they were doing.

They zoomed in tight on Dalton, capturing every movement as he ran his gloved hand up and down the rope, working the resin in. The friction, the grip, the tension in his forearm—it all played out in high definition, and I swear to God, it felt like I could hear it.

Dalton took the tail of the rope and pulled it behind his wrist, then expertly looped it back around to the front, locking himself in with a fluid, practiced motion that was pure instinct.

Something stirred low in my stomach, and I felt a tickle in my throat that wasn’t from needing to cough.

“You okay?” Fable asked, glancing over.

I nodded way too fast. “Oh yeah. No, I’m fine.” I waved her off and tried to pretend like my insides weren’t turning to fire. “I . . . recognize the rope. We picked it up earlier this week.”

That part was true, but it wasn’t why everything inside me was melting.

It was the way he moved.

The way he commanded it.

The raw power of it.

Fuck.

It was primal, and every inch of me felt it.

The chute door flew open, and the bull exploded out into the arena like a loaded cannon.

Dalton didn’t ride. He owned it.

Every muscle in his body moved with precision, his free hand cutting through the air for balance, his legs gripping, body rolling with the force beneath him like he’d been born on the back of that animal.

That’s why he was number two in the world.

That’s why he was the one to beat this year.

“Whoa,” I breathed, eyes wide as I watched the clock hit eight. Eight damn seconds of dominance.

“It’s pretty cool, huh?” Fable grinned, clearly loving the awe on my face.

“I get why he fucks girls after,” I mumbled, not realizing the words had slipped out until it was too late.

A pillow smacked me square in the chest.

“Poppy!” Fable said, scandalized but laughing.

I burst out laughing, burying my face in the couch cushion, heat rising to my cheeks. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”