Page 8 of Bull Rush

Wolfsbane is still his after all these years. His parents bought the horse for him for his seventeenth birthday, not long after Ramsey found out he was getting a football scholarship. They’d offered to upgrade his truck and buy him a sports car, but he’d asked for the massive Friesian instead.

I’d been tempted to sell him more than once. The price he’d fetch on the market would keep the rescue horses fed and watered for at least a couple of years, and he’d never been happy after Ramsey left. Giving every other rider but me trouble, and even with me, he’d pout about the fact that I wasn’t bringing Ramsey home to him. We couldn’t use him for lessons or trail rides, and I didn’t get to ride him nearly as much as I would like.

But I felt like I needed Ramsey’s permission to sell him, and I wasn’t about to be the one who broke the silence between us after we signed the papers five years ago. So Wolfsbane had stayed, first to listen to me cry and scream and commiserate about what an ass his owner was and then to remind me never to put either of us in the position of being left again.

“You miss me? I missed you, buddy. We’ll have to go for a ride later. If your mom lets me. She’s pretty pissed at me after this morning. But you’re not, are you, bud? You’re happy to see me.” Ramsey leans his head forward, bringing him forehead-to-nose with Wolfsbane, talking to him in a sweet voice. One I’ve only ever heard him use on Wolfsbane and the dog he had as a kid. It makes me smile despite myself as I try to keep myapproach slow. I can tell Wolfsbane is eating up every moment of the attention from him, and I hate to interrupt. I can feel sorry for the horse even if I don’t feel an ounce of it for the man.

“I see you two are getting reacquainted,” I say as I get closer. Ramsey doesn’t even startle; he just glances back over his shoulder.

“Yeah. The big guy and I have some catching up to do.”

“Is he in a forgiving mood?” I ask, running my hand down Wolfsbane’s nose as he extends his head and neck in Ramsey’s direction for more attention.

“Seems like he might be.” Ramsey looks over him thoughtfully as he nudges his shoulder again.

“You can ride him later if you want. Kell can help you get him saddled.”

“I can still saddle my own horse, Haze.” There’s a scoffing click in his throat as he shakes his head. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“Well, it’s been a bit. I have no idea what you get up to in the city.” I shrug, and Ramsey looks back over his shoulder again to study me.

“Or around here.” He smirks as his eyes travel over me. “Finally got the blue hair I see.”

His eyes run over my long hair. I’m naturally a brunette, but when Bristol dyed hers, she convinced me to do the same. We spent her birthday down in the city last month getting it done. While Marlowe and Dakota got theirs highlighted, I opted for a dark brown at the roots that fades to a cerulean blue at the tips. I’ve been threatening to do it since I was a teenager and figured it was now or never.

“Yeah. Bristol and I got it done for her birthday.” I shrug.

“Hers blue too?”

“No. She got a rose-gold color. It looks pretty on her with her green eyes.”

“You’ve got lots of new tattoos,” I note as I look at his arms, where a geometric pattern swirls around his elbow and meets a bee with a crown. I guess this is our version of small talk.

He shrugs. “The guys and I sometimes go get ’em done for fun. Win a game. Get a bonus. Gotta spend it somehow.”

“I think those guys normally buy houses and cars, don’t they?”

“Some. A surprising number of us are smart enough to save it. You never know how many good years you’ll have in the league.”

“Fair enough.” I don’t want to touch that subject with a ten-foot pole yet. I only know what I heard on the news, but it’s obvious he isn’t playing this year. Though I imagine that’s not the whole story.

As much as I want to avoid the next discussion, I do need to start getting to the point. Ripping the Band-Aid off like Marlowe suggested.

“I assume you’re not here just for fun. It’s too long of a drive for that. So what is it you want, Ramsey?”

He turns to me, his eyes running up my legs and over my body until they meet mine, and the smile on his face turns ominously dark. I don’t even need him to say a word to know—Marlowe was right.

FOUR

Ramsey

“Give me ninety days here.Then I’ll give you the divorce uncontested. You can keep the ranch and the inn.”

Her brow climbs, and her eyes drift over my face, but she doesn’t say a word for long moments, and then her eyes narrow.

“What’s the catch?” Her arms cross over her chest.

She knows me too well.

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