Page 40 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

“See ya soon,” she echoes, then turns back and offers me a cute little wave. “‘Night.”

Christ, I love the way her cheeks turn pink and warm, like she’s not used to being wanted this way.

Like no one’s ever seen her like I do.

“Lock the door, Mo Chroí.”

“I will.”

Good girl.

I don’t leave until I hear the click of the lock behind her.

And when I finally make it back to my truck, I’m so high on that one word, on her yes, I could do cartwheels down the goddamn street.

I don’t. But it’s a near thing.

Instead, I wait till I get back to my cabin. I barely have the truck in park before I’m out the door, leaping from the driver’s side like the ground itself might kiss me for the mood I’m in.

I kick off my boots, strip out of the day’s bullshit like it’s an itchy coat, and let the shift come over me.

My Bull surges forward.

And yeah—he fucking struts.

Chest out, horns gleaming, hooves stomping like he owns the goddamn ranch.

Because tonight?

We’re unstoppable.

We kissed her.

She said yes.

We have a date.

And my beast is drunk on victory and pheromones.

Of course, because fate’s got a twisted sense of humor, who happens to be strolling by in full fur-mode?

Dante.

Big ol’ Grizzly Shifter and king of judgy eye rolls.

And waddling beside him, all wide-eyed and giggly, is his cub. The adorable Rosie Posie.

She is getting used to her Bear side, and I know she’s been shifting in the middle of the night unprompted. Poor little thing. But she’ll get there. I know she will.

But really? Did it have to be right now?

Just in time for my impromptu bovine break dance.

They both freeze as I prance—yes, prance—across the pasture like I’m the matador and the bull rolled into one glorious mess.

Rosie lets out this adorable little Bear-snort-giggle thing, and I swear it sounds like twinkling bells and childhood wonder wrapped in fur.

I like the cub, so I do what any self-respecting, freshly smooched, high on hormones Bull Shifter would do.

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