Page 11 of Ride Me

“I don’t want to talk,” I reply.

“You heard her. We’re all good here. There won’t be any talking.” Bowen doesn’t miss a beat. “But hey, maybe we’ll catch you at dinner, bud.” Bowen turns and I follow him until Gunner’s voice breaks my stride.

“So you moved to a farm and now you’re like what, a trad wife who doesn’t speak for herself? Pri, I never thought you had that in you. What a waste. I’ll let your dad know. He says he doesn’t hear much from you these days and that makes two of us. Imagine turning your back on the two most important men in your life over some cowboy.” Gunner’s voice is laced with sarcasm.

I turn back to face him. “Great, let my dad know that as it turns out, being with a real man made me into a real woman. And yeah, this guy gets anything he wants from me if that’s what you’re asking.” I return the gesture of a wink to Gunner then run my hand down the front of Bowen’s chest.

Gunner rolls his eyes and mumbles something about talking after dinner. But it’s Bowen's cocky smile and the way his body tenses in response to my touch that has my mind racing.

CHAPTER 8

PRIYA

An hour later,Bowen and I walk toward the Velvet Spur, hand in hand. The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of fresh-cut hay and something faintly smoky from the bonfire near the arena. I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am. The warmth of his fingers laced through mine, the solid presence of him at my side—it all feels too easy, too natural. A little sad, really, that this pretend relationship feels more real than anything I’ve ever experienced. But I shove the thought away before it can take root.

Bowen is uncharacteristically quiet, his usual easy energy subdued. The silence stretches between us, thick enough to notice.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask, nudging him lightly with my shoulder.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he runs his thumb slowly across the back of my hand, his touch absentminded but deliberate. Then, with a sharp inhale, he speaks.

“Let me ask you something.” His voice is lower now, more weighted. “What did you ever see in that douchebag?”

I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “I don’t want to get into?—”

“No, Priya. I mean it.” He stops walking and turns to face me. His grip on my hand tightens just slightly. “I want to know. Because I don’t get it. That guy is a real asshole. I won’t repeat what he said in that arena. But rest assured, if I hear anything like that again, he’s gonna meet a different side of me.”

Bowen’s usual carefree charm is gone. It’s replaced by something edged with quiet fury. His jaw is tight and his expression is unreadable. The protectiveness in his voice coils around me. It’s warm and unexpected, like a shield I didn’t ask for but suddenly don’t want to lose.

I swallow hard, the words stick in my throat. “It feels like a lifetime ago and to be honest I don’t have an answer. He’s the worst. I’ve known that for a long time.” My voice softens, almost confessional. “Thank you for helping me get through this weekend.”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “You don’t have to thank me.”

I force a small, wry smile. “I do. But I also have to be careful to remember that this is just fun. You're too easy to fall for, but I suspect you already know that.”

The words slip out before I can stop them. When I glance up, I catch the flicker of his smile before it vanishes. His fingers tighten around mine for the briefest moment, like he wants to contradict me but doesn’t. Something in his expression makes my heart stumble.

We reach the door to the Velvet Spur. The steady hum of conversation spills out punctuated by bursts of laughter and the twang of country music. But I hesitate. I’m not ready to be done talking to Bowen.

Before I can second-guess myself, the question tumbles out. “What about you? Why haven’t you had any serious relationships?”

Bowen stops short. His fingers slip from mine as if my words startled him. He exhales slowly, then drags a hand across the back of his neck, his gaze flicking away.

“I, uh…” His voice is quieter now, rough around the edges. “The short answer? I never learned how.”

My chest tightens with a mix of curiosity and protectiveness. “And the long answer?”

He takes a breath and his shoulders stiffen before he continues. “The long answer is that I was raised by a dad with a drinking problem and no mom. Love wasn’t exactly something I grew up seeing done right.” His jaw clenches, like he’s fighting the instinct to say less, to keep it all bottled up. But then, his voice softens. “I think sometimes it’s for the best if I blow things up before they get too serious because I know where it’s heading and I’m not in the business of hurting people.”

The weight of his words lingers between us, raw and unpolished. It’s not a confession, exactly. More like a quiet truth he’s spent years making peace with. Or maybe he’s been trying to outrun.

One million things flash through my mind. I want to tell him he’s not his father. That any woman would be the luckiest person in the world to be by his side. That I trust he’d never hurt me. But I don’t. Instead, I reach for his hand again, squeezing gently.

And for just a second, Bowen lets me.

Boom.The door swings open before we can step inside destroying what is left of the moment between us.

“Priya.” Gunner strides out. His presence is as sharp and unwelcome as the sound of my name on his lips.

---