Page 28 of What I Should Have Known

“I’m trying to fucking be mature right now, so no.” I turned around and took a couple of steps away from Wyatt.

“I’ll back off from Kat if you get on one,” he called after me.

Pausing, I glanced at the very woman he was talking about. She didn’t need my protection, but if I could offer it in some way that wouldn’t piss her off, especially from someone who was raising my hackles and setting my nerves on end, I would. “You’ll give her some space?”

“Yes. I’ll give her some space,” Wyatt said.

Slowly, I turned back around and caught the fixated gazes of random cowboys seated around us, who’d been watching the conversation.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” I replied. My thoughts were clear. No longer crowded with anything except for the focus of protecting someone who I could. Someone who was still alive.

He leaned his head back, the brown plaid button-up shirt he wore rippling with the movement. “You’re gonna look like such a fucking idiot. You don’t even have a pair of boots.”

“And?” I stalked up to him, stopping within an inch of his face. “I’ll do it in my tennis shoes and T-shirt and still kick your fucking ass.”

Wyatt’s smile faltered for half a second, his dull eyes locked onto mine. “You realize you’ll have to ride for eight seconds to do that, right?”

I grinned, wicked adrenaline that I craved raced through my veins. “You only last eight seconds? Damn, I can’t believe you admitted that out loud. Now I get why you’ve been unable to get Kat after three years. She deserves longer than eight fucking seconds.”

Several chuckles boomed through the air as Wyatt’s cheeks flushed bright red.

“Hey, man,” a random cowboy jumped down from the railing and strutted my way. “You’re gonna at least need a pair of spurs. Why don’t you borrow mine?”

I smiled and nodded but refused to pull my gaze from Wyatt. “I appreciate that.”

He clamped a hand on my shoulder, raising a taunting brow at Wyatt who remained frozen like a gargoyle statue. “I’ll explain to you the basics and get you geared up. Come on. I’m Porter, by the way.”

Chapter 10

KAT

The last rip of duct tape secured Porter’s spurs to the back of Bernie’s tennis shoes. He nodded to Porter, quietly confirming his understanding of marking out—where the positioning of his heels should be as the bronc left the chute.

I chewed on my already short thumbnail as Porter clapped Bernie on the back, adjusting the vest Porter also let Bernie borrow, and then nodded over to the bucking chutes. “I’ll have my riggin’, gloves, and chaps waitin’ for ya over there.”

Bernie gave him a tight smile and finally lifted his gaze to meet mine. Dropping my hands, I marched right over to him. “Are you being serious about this?”

He nodded, leaning lazily back against the stadium step he sat off to the side of. “I’m out the late entry fee money, so I can’t back out now.”

“Bernie, why? Why would you agree to this? You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“I’m not proving anything. I’m bored, and it sounds fun.”

“Fun?!” I clapped my hands together in front of my face and closed my eyes. “Your first time on a horse is going to be one where it’s intentionally trying to throw you off, and that is your version of ‘fun’?”

“Kat, this is the least risky thing I’ve done in months. Sure, I may break a bone, but hell, I’ll be alive.”

Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, a smile crept onto my lips. “You’re a dumbass, Bottle Cap.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told that a time or two,” he replied.

I cracked open my eyes, scanning someone who looked very much like a fish out of water, but also entirely secure in who he was. Dirt crunched beneath his shoes as he rose from his seat with a crooked grin on his face and took a couple of steps toward me.

“By the way,” I quietly started, ignoring the rising butterflies swarming in my belly as he neared. “Where’d you get the duct tape?”

Bernie chuckled, his deep green eyes peering down into mine. “I always carry duct tape. Like, literally always.”

“Why?”

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