Page 38 of The Bull Rider & the Wedding Planner

“There’s something else.” She studied the coffee table. “A year after that awful night, Baxter had patiently been there for me and dated me. He asked me to marry him. I decided I had to find you and know if there was any chance we could work things out. I still loved you, even though you’d cheated on me.”

His stomach curdled. He wanted to protest, but he didn’t know how to prove she was wrong about that.

“I was able to find a rodeo you were on the schedule for in Amarillo. I flew down there.”

“What? I never saw you at any of my rodeos after we broke up.”

She nodded, very sober. The sorrow in her eyes broke his heart. “I watched you ride, and you were brilliant and brave. Mesmerizing.”

“Of course I was,” he tried to tease.

“You won the bull riding.” She swallowed, not rising to his bait. “After it was over, I went to find you. You were by your trailer, with a brunette on one arm and a blonde on the other. The brunette grabbed you and kissed you. Then the blonde tugged at you, begging for her turn.” She was pale and looked physically sick. “That year I’d seen you splayed over social media with a different girl every weekend and it about killed me. Seeing it in person destroyed me. I ranaway and promised myself I’d never trust you or get close to you again.” She edged slightly away from him. “But here I am.”

It hurt. It all hurt. How to defend himself? How to prove that he was loyal to her the entire time they dated and would be fiercely loyal to her now?

“Cass.” He wanted to reach for her, but she was stiff and leaning away from him. “I am so sorry you saw me kissing some girl in Amarillo. I don’t know that it helps, but none of the girls I dated since we broke up have held my interest. I only wanted you and was only trying to salve the wound of losing you and hoping I could find someone like you. I never could.”

Cassie raised her shoulders and lowered them. She looked broken. He knew her ex had hurt her in many ways, and it dug at him to think he had damaged her as well.

“I want to figure out what photo you saw of me and some redhead. Do you remember the magazine?” He didn’t know if it would solve everything, but it would be a place to start. Her thinking he’d cheated on her had been the instigator to her yelling at him at that wedding and believing he wasn’t loyal. It had broken her heart. He’d basically driven her into Baxter’s evil arms, even though he’d had no idea what he’d done.

She pursed her lips and said, “I think it wasWestern LifestylesorWestern Life Today.”

“ProbablyWestern Life Today.” He opened his phone, his hands not quite steady. He Googled the magazine’s name, 2018, and his name. Several articles came up. He clicked on the first one. It was an interview with him and Walker about their soaring careers.

Please, Lord, he begged as he stared at his phone.Please help me love Cassie the way she needs and heal her. If possible, help me prove I was loyal to her and always will be.

He clicked on the next article and immediately his eyes widened. There was a photo of him dipping a redhead back and kissing her passionately. The caption said something about bull rider Easton Coleville receives congratulations from one of his many admirers. He stared at the photo and tried to dissect, tried to prove it couldn’t be him. The build and jawline and hat looked like his.

Cassie leaned a little closer, looked at the photo, blanched and eased even farther away. “That’s it,” she whispered.

He looked at the date on the photo. It was posted a few days before the fateful day he’d gone to find her at her wedding event.

Oh, man. This looked bad. But he knew he hadn’t kissed anyone while he was dating Cassie. He’d turned down so many women at different rodeos he had been labeled ‘the celibate’. Until he and Cassie broke up; then he became ‘the player’.

“I can’t believe this.” He shook his head. “I promise you I didn’t kiss any girl while we were dating. I swear it.” He met Cassie’s gaze, sick to his stomach and praying she’d believe him.

She didn’t. The anguish in her eyes revealed that.

“The proof is right there, Easton.” She hugged herself. “Please. This just hurts. It destroyed me back then and it still digs deep. I can’t … I can’t trust you when I know you cheated while we were still dating.”

“I didn’t,” he protested, but it sounded weak even in his own ears.

He focused back on that photo, trying to see if there was some way to prove his innocence. It wasn’t a clear shot of his face, mostly his back, his jawline, his hat, and the side of the girl’s face.

Cassie stood, and he knew shewas about to flee.

Please help me, he begged his Father above.

“Wait a minute,” he said, standing and putting a hand on her arm. “Please. Look at …” What? What defense did he have? He glanced at the photo and his eyes widened. “The shirt! Look at the shirt, Cass.”

Cassie lifted her palms. “Easton, I don’t know what shirts you wear anymore.”

“I don’t own a red plaid shirt and haveneverworn any kind of red at a rodeo. I would never do that.”

Her gaze was wary. “How do you know?”

“It’s a fallacy that bulls see red but still the clowns wear red. Maybe it’s superstitious, but I don’t like red. I would never wear red to a rodeo.”

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