Page 71 of Breaking the Cowboy's Rules

He’d figured Beck would propose and have his happy ever after, leaving his and Bowen’s roles moot, but yesterday Bodhi had snuck away and visited the jewelry store. He’d researched rings—he didn’t do much without researching it first, but in the end he’d gone with his gut and chosen a ring he loved because it reminded him of Nico and would look beautiful on her finger.

What if this was the ring? The only one he gave a woman. His future.

He’d barely been able to swallow around that thought, but it wasn’t impossible, was it? He’d always spun every major move out, analyzed decisions, ramifications. But with the Rodeo Bride Game he hadn’t counted on falling in love—lust maybe. Nico had been beyond his wildest dreams or imagination or hopes.

So now what?

He stayed on top of the chute to watch Bowen ride. Damn, he was good. Better than good. But an even better person. He’d been Bodhi’s best friend and guide forever. He whistled his approval when Bowen made the full eight look easy and launched off as smoothly as a hawk taking flight.

Bodhi was up in three, and as he centered himself, he let one last thought drift through: was Bowen having the same dilemma with Lang? God, he’d love to see his cousin happy. And he’d always liked Lang, felt protective of her like she was a sister even though she’d never seemed to need or want the protection or care. She’d been on fire as a teen, and she’d had it bad for Bowen. Wouldn’t that be something if both Beck and Bowen found their happy and both proposed at the Bash? Meanwhile, Beck looked like he wanted to jump the gun, the ring burning a hole in his pocket.

“You’re up.” Bowen slapped his ass with one of his gloves and snapped him out of his reverie. “Ninety-two point one. I dare you.”

“You’re on.” Bodhi scrambled up the top of the chute and stared down at the bull that looked as rank as many he’d faced as a pro and had the stats to prove it.

“Hundred percenter.” Tanner Wilder, a local bull breeder for the American Extreme Bull Riding Tour as well as local western state rodeos, smirked at him over the chute. She’d been a former barrel racer who’d been badly injured as a teen but hadn’t let that slow her down. She’d built up her father’s once small business and was now top of her game, married to a former bull rider and the mother of twins. “Don’t think about being a hero and trying to break his record.”

Although Tanner had brought the bull only for him or Bowen to ride. The bull had already been accepted into competing at the AEBR next season, but because he and Bowen were pro, she felt confident they wouldn’t be injured—“too badly,” she’d added when she invited them to meet the bull.

“But feel free to give it your best shot.”

“Tanner, I got my girl watching as well as my family and what I consider my hometown. Sweet cheeks here is not bucking my ass in the dirt.”

“Prove it.”

“Intend to.”

Everyone seems to find their share of the happiness pie. Why not me?

He blocked it all out. The noise. Smells. His clamoring wrist. He’d ridden with far worse pain and likely would again. It was just him and Bulldozer having a little man-to-man chat and a chance to show off a bit to the fans.

He dug deep inside himself and felt that connection he always did before the ride. Another breath—last one before it was over, and he gave the nod.

The slide of metal, the slingshot burst out into the light, and the color and frenetic music beat competing with the noise of the crowd was a rush that never got old. He gripped hard with his thighs and kept his body slightly up and a degree or two tilted forward, his gaze glued on the middle of the bull’s shoulders to watch the head. The head could kill him, but it also provided clues as to what Bulldozer thought he could do.

And Bulldozer had a lot of ideas. He took his rep and rank seriously, but so did Bodhi. As a ride it was textbook awesome. Triumph surged. And that’s when Bodhi effed it all up. He waited a second too long to dismount but looked to where he wanted to jump instead of watching where the bull wanted to go. He leaped, but instead of tucking in and pulling both arms tight to his body and curving his fists toward his chest, he was a little slow with his left arm.

He heard the crack of the bull’s horn against his brace at the same time he felt it. Pain fired through his body and black spots dotted his vision. He still managed to land and clamber over the fence and not let loose with a string of curse words, because if his wrist hadn’t been fractured before, it surely was now.

*

Why was Bodhibeing so stubborn? His family was clearly worried about his wrist. She was worried about his wrist, but he played it off like it was no big deal. Bowen and Beck seemed on the verge of tying Bodhi up and taking him to the hospital, Bodhi was being flippant and charming, but she could feel his control fraying, his edge.

Couldn’t his cousins?

And what about Ashni, who supposedly knew him so well? She wasn’t helping at all. So maybe Nico was a little jealous. And made a joke about a rope and tying him up.

This met with approval from Beck and Bowen, and she had a flash of belonging like she’d never had with her brothers. Bowen even handed her a rope like he expected she’d go through with it.

And maybe she would, she decided after his family walked away, Bowen reminding Bodhi that he’d better be in shape to ride in the finals where he was in second place—Bodhi had received a ninety-two, which was a very high score, she’d been assured, but Bowen had a tenth of a point higher. Something that seemed to fire Bodhi up when he should be trundled in her car on the way to the hospital.

“So you’ve been practicing your roping skills, baby,” he murmured after her bold assertion, which had been a not very veiled threat. His gaze heated as she watched his family walk away, Ashni tucked under Beck’s arm like she was happy to be there.

Did that mean the Bash engagement show was off? Would Bodhi even want her there? Want her at the steak dinner? Feeling more than a little anxious, she notched her chin up and went with her professional, icy bravado.

“I have,” she said. “Your mom suggested I practice and that it was a necessary skill.”

Bodhi snorted at that.

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