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“Right,” she said, resisting a sigh. “I need to run Garth through some patterns anyway.”
“I’ll see you in Fort Worth,” he said, turning to go.
“Wait.” She caught his arm.
Dylan turned back to her with a puzzled expression on his face.
“Thanks for today.” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.
Her lips tingled when they brushed against his scruff.
“Anytime, Killer,” he said, warmly. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, and her entire body thrilled at the expectation. But he pulled away reluctantly and got into his truck.
LeAnn watched him drive away, before blasting some music to clear out the melancholy that was creeping up on her. She wanted more days like this. More time with Dylan. It didn’t have to take over her life or get in the way of her training. She was going to have to figure out a way to make that happen, though, without ruining their friendship or mentorship. She hoped he wanted the same thing.
Chapter Twelve
Jackson Blevins had made arrangements with the Fort Worth arena for them to practice. The arena owner, however, had sold tickets to allow some fans in to watch the women bull riders. Dylan wouldn’t have minded it so much, but a lot of them were assholes who were there just to catcall and jeer at the women.
“We’re used to it,” Muriel said, when Dylan was about to go into the stands and throw a few of them out.
“Although, this is the worst I’ve seen it,” LeAnn said, frowning at Muriel’s hand on his arm.
“You shouldn’t have to get used to it,” he said between his teeth.
“Preach,” Callie Brown said. She was a new addition to the group of women riders who had been invited to practice with them. This was her first and only event with the WPRC and she rode better than half the men did. LeAnn and the rest were going to have a hard time beating her. Callie had been riding bulls with her brothers on their farm since she was a child.
Still, LeAnn was learning a lot from her and the hollowness in Dylan’s gut eased a little when no one got injured while they rode. The bulls were green, but they weren’t docile and while he could have ridden one with his eyes closed, he was glad that they were the ones he’d suggested for the women.
Unfortunately, not everyone was happy about it.
“These bulls aren’t going to be high scorers,” LeAnn said, scowling into the pen after practice.
“I should get my daddy to send some real bulls over,” Callie said.
“Talk to Jackson Blevins about it,” Dylan said, refusing to get involved in the conversation. He had picked the twenty best bulls he saw from Mr. Blevins’s stock. They weren’t powerful enough to compete with the bulls that were already in the men’s division, but they were solid and had potential. But most of all, Dylan was confident that these bulls would give the new riders a challenge, but would not turn deadly.
When everyone had cleaned up and put away the equipment, Dylan wasn’t surprised that Muriel had decided to stick around to talk to him.
“What are you doing tonight?” she asked.
He had been hoping to convince LeAnn to go out to dinner with him, only he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her about it. She had been gung-ho to ride the bulls this morning. They’d had just enough time for him to give her a rundown on all of them before the other riders arrived.
“I’m busy,” Dylan said, trying to make a graceful escape.
“All night?” she asked, linking her arm through his.
“Muriel, I told you—I’m not interested in anything more than what we had.”
“I get that,” she said. “I’m not looking for a marriage proposal. I just want dinner and a good time tonight.”
Before LeAnn, Dylan might have been tempted. But if there was anyone he wanted a good time with, it was LeAnn and not Muriel. “I’m not the one,” he said.
“Whatever,” she said, unlinking her arm. “I figured I’d give you first shot.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Save it. It’s your loss.”
