Page 74 of The Wildest Ride

As honored as he was that she had opened up, even slightly, he wanted her smile back more.

“And she died in a horrible dancing accident?” He was solemn, placing a hand over his heart.

Again she punched his shoulder, this time adding, “Excuse you. That’s got to be speaking ill of the dead or something.”

Looking affronted, he said, “I don’t see how so. People die dancing all the time. Sounds to me like you’re the one being disrespectful, acting like death is some kind of absurd comedy.”

She shook her head. “Impossible.”

He grinned, licking his lips as he did. “We’ve already gone over this, but if you want to again...”

Closing her mouth, she crossed her arms tight in front of her chest and puffed it up. “I certainly do not, thank you very much. And no, my mother did not die dancing. She died of being wild and brokenhearted.”

Her show of affront was admirable, but he sensed the truth in her words. And something else.

“And it was a cowboy that broke her heart?”

Lil sucked in a breath and gave a short nod, her posture going stiffer than he’d ever seen it—so stiff she could no sooner ride a bike than a horse or a bull. It was strange to see her like that, the body he’d spent so much time watching as closely as he had gone alien in its lack of flow.

And he realized another thing.

“That cowboy was your daddy.”

Lil let out the breath she’d been holding and her shoulders sagged—but only for a moment. Then the line of her lips firmed, her spine straightened, her shoulders squared, and she gave him a smile that was real, if tired. “He was. At least that’s what we’ve pieced together from the bit she let slip. The way I see it, the best thing to do is avoid cowboys altogether.”

AJ snorted. “What is history for if not to learn from the mistakes of the past? We’ll be more careful.”

Lil laughed. “Said every fool ever.”

“How’re you ever going to find your daddy if you avoid cowboys?” he challenged.

Lil made a rude noise in the back of her throat. “Who says I’m looking for my daddy?”

AJ aimed a dry look in her direction. “Just a few things...”

“I did not come to the rodeo looking for my daddy, thank you very much.”

He loved how she could simultaneously sound like a septuagenarian and a playboy bunny at the same time.

“Right...” Provoking her had become one of his favorite pastimes.

But instead of rising to the bait, she just shook her head at him, smiling all the while. “I see what you’re doing, but I’ll let you get away with it. Except for one thing—I came to the rodeo because of my granddad.”

“How’s that?” he asked, loving the way the fire cast dancing shadows and light across her skin, heating the smug ease with which she regarded him into something deeper, something real, and comfortable—into the kind of thing that lasted.

“When I was four, just before my mom died, my granddad was out in the pasture working with a wild horse. Gran had left the door open for just a second, but it was long enough for me to run outside and straight into the front pasture to him. Granddad did some fancy tricks, including a bareback mount I’ll remember to the day I die. He kept me out of harm’s way that day, and gave me the bug at the same time.”

“So you’re a horse girl, then?” he wheedled.

She bared her teeth. “Now that’s not what I said, at all. That’s what gave me the bug. The passion came later.”

“You’re welcome to tell me anything you want to about your passion.”

She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it.

Grinning, he said, “Anything’s possible.”

Rolling her eyes, she said pointedly and with heavy sass, “Not quite anything.”

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