Page 62 of Rough Ride with the Grumpy Cowboy
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ZANE
My grip on the glass in my hand tightens as I recall with simmering rage how that fucked-up family tried to crash Ava’s party. It’s a good thing Jace takes our security so seriously, so the guards at the gate alerted us when they started causing a ruckus for being denied entry.
The only reason they’re still breathing is because I didn’t want any blood on my hands on Ava’s special day. Next time they try to pull such a stunt, they won’t be so lucky.
“Don’t worry—they won’t be stupid enough to try and come back here,” Jace, who is nursing a bottle of beer next to me, speaks up.
“They better not, otherwise I’ll introduce them to my shotgun and let them be on a first-name basis,” I grumble.
“And I know the perfect spot to bury the bodies,” he chuckles with an evil glint in his eyes, clinking his bottle against my glass.
It pleases me to know that I can always count on my family to keep my girl safe. Even when I’m not around, she will always have someone looking out for her.
The party wound down some time back, but I’m too enraged to call it a night.
“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about,” Jace says, his voice turning a bit more serious.
“What?”
“Dad received an odd call yesterday.”
I sigh when I recognize the tone he’s using. “Which brother is it? What did they do now?”
“You’re right about it concerning one of us, but this time, it’s about you.”
“Oh?”
Now that’s surprising. Why would Dad be receiving calls about me? Did one of our clients complain? That would be weird considering I’ve been on my best behavior lately, even interacting with them instead of delegating that to Duncan.
“PBR called. Apparently our surname popped up in the system, and he was surprised to learn that you signed up,” he explains.
Ah, so that’s what this is about.
I knew that Dad would be informed the minute I did. He’s one of PBR’s biggest sponsors. All his kids have been part of the rodeo in one way or another, and I’m just trying to get back in the game.
“Yeah, so?”
His eyes widen at my nonchalant response. “Zane, I thought you gave up bull riding after your accident.”
“I did, but now I’m picking it up again. Why is that so surprising?” I challenge.
He scoffs, looking like he’s gonna punch me. “Maybe because you broke your back and both legs.”
“My back and legs are fine,” I defend.
“Really? I was there when you were working out the other day. You call fifty pull-ups impressive—you used to do triple that on a bad day,” he mocks. “Please stop this madness before you get hurt again.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no? Are you crazy? That bull could kill you.”
“Who says I’m living now?” I retort, letting part of the old Zane slip in.
“Zane...”
He’s about to launch a full-on speech about how I’m being careless when the back door opens and out walks Ava, who makes a beeline for me, plopping herself on my lap.
