Page 34 of Ride Me Reckless
Some things in Lovelace never changed.
And some—well, some came back around whether you were ready or not.
The feed store bell jingled overhead like always—off-key, rusty at the hinge, but familiar. Smelled like molasses, hay dust, and old sweat. I took a breath of it and stepped inside.
"Colt Bennett," Joe called from behind the counter. "You're late."
“Isn’t he always,” Sawyer teased.
I smirked. "Ten minutes."
“Seen Tessa lately?” Sawyer asked.
I waved that off, already walking toward the coffee pot Joe kept on a hot plate next to the register. “Nope.”
Sawyer clapped me on the back on his way out. “Well, nothing changes… if nothing changes. Looks like you need to make the next move.”
Sawyer’s words stung as Joe handed me a Styrofoam cup, no cream, no sugar—just how I liked it. "Got your standing order pulled already. They're loading it now."
"Appreciate it." I leaned against the edge of the counter, sipping. The coffee was strong enough to grow chest hair on a fence post.
Joe gave me a long look over the rim of his own cup. "Heard you were back to being local famous. Little Miss Kenzie's been runnin' barrels like her boots are on fire."
I chuckled. "She's got more drive than half the boys I used to train. Keeps me on my toes."
Joe's eyebrows arched. "That girl's been wearin' glitter since she was in diapers, and now she's got her sights on championships."
We stood in easy silence for a minute. Through the front window, I could see the younger kid from Joe's crew hoisting sacks into the back of my truck bed.
Then Joe got quiet in that way he does when he's about to say something that matters. "You heard about the new rancher moved in west of town?"
"Rancher?" I asked, taking another sip.
"Yeah. Bought up the old Miller spread. Fella's got money and ambition. Wants to raise bulls for the circuit. Good stock, too—talked about bringin' in Brahman crosses, maybe even some Mexican fighting lines."
I let out a low whistle. "Ambitious."
"Needs a consultant,” Joe said. "Somebody local. Somebody who knows rodeo and breeding bulls from the inside out."
I laughed and rubbed the small of my back, feeling the old ache flare just from the thought. "Long as I ain't the one gettin' tossed again. Reckless did a number on me."
Joe didn't smile at that. "I remember. Took us a half hour to get you out of the dirt that night."
I nodded. "Yeah, well. Some lessons you only need once."
Joe leaned back against the counter. "Still. Art asked around. I told him I knew someone with the right kind of sense. Someone who understands both riders and bulls."
"You give him my number?" I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.
"Not yet," Joe said. "Wanted to see if you were open to it."
I stared down into my coffee, watching it ripple. The thing about bulls—they don't care what broke you last time. They just want to see if you'll flinch.
"Tell him to call," I said finally. "I'll talk. No promises."
Joe smiled like he already knew that's what I'd say. "You've still got more to give than you know."
"Maybe," I said, draining the rest of the cup. "Or maybe I'm just too stubborn to quit."
