Page 42 of Destry

He leaned in, his voice low and smug. “You want me to lie to you, Rebel?”

I groaned and shoved his chest, but he caught my wrists before I could get away.

"It wasn’t perfect, but you did that shit You’re competing. You think I won every ride on the way up? Hell no. But you get back up there and you go again. That’s what matters."

Before I could answer, a couple of riders passed by, one of them tipping his hat.

"Nice run," he said. "You’ve come a long way since your first one."

Another woman smiled as she walked past. "Looked good out there, Savvy. You’ll smooth it out next time."

I blinked, caught off guard by the compliments. I hadn’t expected anyone to notice me like that or care.

I glanced back at Destry, who stood beside me looking amused and proud with his arms crossed as he watched me taking it all in. He wasn’t used to being on the sidelines but I got the feeling he didn’t mind.

I smirked. “Jealous?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Before I could press him, he stepped forward, wrapping both arms around me, lifting me around his waist.

I gasped, laughing, and my arms instinctively locked around his neck as he turned us and I landed on the railing.

"You did good, Rebel.”

I hadn’t won but I was here, doing what I loved with a man I had fallen head over heels for.

Later that night, we were back at Forty Acres. Country music filled the bar, mixing with the low murmur of conversation and the occasional clatter of pool balls and glasses.

It felt familiar and comfortable just like the first night Destry had dragged me here for a drink. But this time, everything felt different.

I wasn’t sitting stiff, trying to figure him out or pretending like I didn’t enjoy the way he flirted with me. Tonight I was sitting beside him, lazy and content, sipping a cold beer while his arm casually rested across the back of my chair.

The energy in the bar was light and I could feel the exhaustion of the day settling into my bones in the best way. Destry had been quiet since we got here, more relaxed than usual with his fingers occasionally brushing against my shoulder and my waist but I was used to it. His small touches felt like second nature now.

He was watching me, though. I could feel it. I smirked, tipping my bottle toward him. “You got something to say?”

“Nah.”

I lifted a brow. “Then why are you staring at me?”

“Because I can,” he said with his voice relaxed and sexy.

I felt heat creep up my neck, but I played it off, rolling my eyes as I took another sip.

He chuckled, stretching an arm across the table, letting his fingers twist his beer. “How you feeling?”

I tilted my head, thinking about it. “Tired,” I admitted. “But good.”

He studied me the way he always did. “You disappointed?”

I knew he meant about the run earlier. I shrugged and my fingers traced the condensation on my beer. “A little.”

Destry nodded like he expected that answer but his expression remained calm. “Good.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Good?”

“That means you care and you want this. You’ll come back hungry for the next one.”

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