Page 47 of Stud Ranch

Trying to get his bearings, he settled beside her. The crowd was filled with people wearing flannel shirts against the chill in the air, but before long the sun would heat them all up and they’d strip off layers.

His mind worked over how to respond to Sloane. She deserved an answer, but it had to be a good one. She’d know if he was blowing smoke. Besides, it wasn’t his style—he’d always been straight with her.

“I still think about you, Sloane. I never stopped thinking about you.”

Her throat worked in a swallow that looked painful under her delicate skin. A tendril of hair fluttered across her cheek, but she didn’t bother to brush it away. “I never stopped either, Shaw. It’s impossible. I thought that we could just have sex—but now I realize my heart’s still tangled up with you.”

She dropped her head, staring at her twisting fingers in her lap. The music they played before a show that was meant to set the tone in the crowd amped up to a faster tune that would pump them up.

And here he and Sloane sat, having one of their difficult and painful conversations. Again.

Resting a hand over hers, he stilled her knotting fingers. “I can go if you want me to—but I don’t think you do.”

Head jerking up, she met his gaze. She shook her head. “You know I never wanted that in the first place, Shaw. I wanted us to work things through. I wanted you there helping me raise our daughter. What happened?”

He issued a low sigh. “I still don’t know. We just sort of fell apart.”

“We did fight a lot in the end. I can’t even remember what the arguments were about anymore.”

“Neither can I. After my injury and that last game where I tried to stay on the ice so the whole team didn’t suffer—and it backfired and we lost anyway—I sort of lost my direction. I didn’t know who I was without hockey.”

“I wasn’t as supportive as I should have been either. I’d just found out I was pregnant. Even though I was so happy, I was scared it would end my career. I spent too much time in my own head and didn’t share any of that with you.”

He nodded. “So did I, baby.” He stroked his thumb across her knuckles.

Before either could say more on the topic, the music grew to a crescendo. The crowd cheered, many of them surging to their feet to clap along. The stands thundered underneath them as boots stomped to the beat.

When the cowboys participating in the rodeo walked into the arena and lined up in the center, everyone went crazy. He easily picked out Dylan on the end.

What happened between them had affected him more than he cared to admit. But damn if he didn’t want to give him that pleasure again and again and again, with Sloane looking on.

With her joining in.

The dark ripple of desire moving through his body wasn’t all lust either. That fucked with his head as much as feeling so close to Sloane…yet knowing he couldn’t keep her.

A lone Boot Knocker on a white mare galloped into the arena. Everyone cheered louder. The rider did a lap around the cowboys and then slowed to a trot in the center to join them all, bowing their heads for a moment.

Hockey came with plenty of superstitions, one of them being that they’d lose a game or get hurt if they didn’t take a second to thank their maker. The ice was just as dangerous as competitive rodeo, so he bowed his head too, praying that Dylan came out of the ride without injury.

He also hoped Dylan lost the bet he’d made with Shaw and Sloane. If Shaw had control in the bedroom, he already had a few ideas how to give Sloane the most pleasure she’d ever known.

Call him screwed up in the head, but he liked the thought of giving her orgasms even if they were through another man.

His cock stirred behind his fly. With one hand on Sloane’s thigh, he settled his stare on the man he wanted more than anything to share her with.

Chapter Eleven

No amount of kettle corn, however delicious, could erase Sloane’s gnawing worry when Dylan was introduced to the crowd.

“The bull is feisty today!” the announcer’s voice carried on the loudspeaker, the noise seeming to bounce around the field and stands. “This is just a taste of the danger our athletes are in every time they face down the beast. Now it’s time to unleash the real beast—three-time champion of the Stockyards in Fort Worth, Texas. Dylan Knoxdale, otherwise known as Knots around here! Everybody, put your hands together!”

Screams and whistles deafened her. Appetite gone, she replaced the tie on the bag of popcorn and set it aside. As soon as her hand was free, Shaw clasped it. A glance at his face showed brackets of tension around his lips.

She meshed her fingers with his, her gaze locked on the field where Dylan stood alone.

“He can’t really do this for a living!” she whispered to herself, but Shaw heard.

“It shocks me every time too.” He squeezed her hand lightly in a gesture of comfort, but her nerves weren’t having any of that.

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