Page 41 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

I bow.

Low and dramatic, horns scraping the ground with flair, like I’m knighting her for services to cuteness.

Dante groans. It’s a sound that comes out as a low, guttural roar, which translates roughly to, “I don’t have the patience for your shit tonight, Kian.”

He nudges Rosie away, muttering something under his breath in Bear-ese that probably includes my name and several colorful expletives.

I wait until they’re gone before I shift back with a grunt, standing stark naked in the cool night breeze, jabbing a finger in my ear like it’ll erase the echo of Dante’s growl.

I know I’ll get questions about this tomorrow. Probably a full-blown roast session over breakfast.

Zeke will definitely say something snarky. Jed will laugh so hard he chokes on his goat milk. Max’ll give me that “not surprised but deeply disappointed” dad-look.

And I don’t care.

Because in just a few hours, I have a date.

With Arliss.

Arliss, who kissed me back.

Arliss, who said yes with stars in her eyes and pink in her cheeks.

Arliss, who doesn’t even know yet that she’s already wrecked me.

For that?

They can tease me all they want.

Hell, they can parade me around the pasture in nothing but cowboy boots and glitter paint.

I’d still be smiling.

She said yes.

Chapter Nine-Arliss

“Hon, can I have my beer?”

I wince as Mrs. Reardon’s voice cuts through the noise for the third time in as many minutes.

“Sorry, Mrs. Reardon!” I call back, already reaching for the tap.

She’s one of our Monday night regulars, part of Dry Creek’s rowdy, but lovable Over-Fifty Bowling League.

They bowl.

They drink.

They laugh way too loud.

But they tip well. Very well.

Honestly, they’re the highlight of my week.

Or at least they used to be.

Because tonight?

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