a hard time about the fact that I was still single, living all alone out at Sunset View. I loved my ranch, and for the most part, I was okay with being alone. But when things got quiet out there, I couldn’t deny that it felt… sort of lonely.
“I’ll take that bet.” I held my hand out for a handshake.
Jake froze, hesitating before waving me off. “No way.” He shook his head. “I’m not taking your granddaddy’s car, brother.”
“Oh no, you’re not.” My smile widened. “Because I’m going to win.”
Jake crossed his arms, repressing a smile as he shook his head. “You’d bet Felina for a lifetime of free nachos and beer?” He tilted his head.
“I would,” I said with absolute conviction.
“And when you say married, you mean in the literal legal sense of the word?” He lowered his chin, maintaining intense eye contact. “And you said she’d be the perfect ten… that doesn’t mean just a pretty face.”
“She’s gotta be smart, fun, and tough enough to work the ranch with me.” I nodded.
“And she’s gotta be crazy about you.” Jake glanced over at the corner booth. “I don’t want you to end up like Leo.”
“Perfect ten, madly in love with me, ring on her finger before my thirty-fourth birthday.” I held out my hand again. “Bet.”
Jake chewed his thumbnail in contemplation for a moment.
Then he smiled, clapping his hand onto mine. “Bet. Make sure Felina’s got gas in her. I might come over this weekend for a test drive.”
Chapter 3
Ashleigh
“You made it!” Cassie waved at me, charging through the crowd with a pink pouf of cotton candy twice the size of her head. “I hoped I’d see you out here.”
“Well, you sold me on it.” I went rigid as she hugged me, hesitantly reciprocating with a pat on the back as she looped her arm through mine.
“This is perfect timing.” She pulled me toward the line forming outside the arena. “The first round of rough stocks is about to start.”
“Rough stocks?” I furrowed my brow. “You’ll have to clue me in. This is my first time at one of these things.”
“They’re, like, the more dangerous events—bareback riding, steer wrestling, bull rides.” Cassie’s eyes widened as she took another bite of her cotton candy. “The bull’s name is Ol’ Bruce, and he’s sort of famous around here. No one can stay on him for more than two or three seconds.”
We purchased our tickets and got seats about halfway down the bleachers. I looked around at all the people filming and taking pictures on their phones and adjusted my baseball cap, pulling my long brown hair over my shoulders to hide my face as much as possible. The last thing I needed was to get recognized on some random person’s social media page.
The first pairing was a rider named Daniel Mendez with a bull named Loco Joe. Mendez took his time getting situated on the back of the bull, trading out his cowboy hat for a helmet with a face guard. His team helped to secure his hand firmly under a strap that went around the animal’s chest. After taking a deep breath and probably saying a silent prayer, the rider gave a single nod.
As soon as the gate opened, Loco Joe leaped into the air, swinging his head wildly as he kicked his back feet high over his head. Mendez held tight, balancing himself with his free arm as he tried to stay upright. The bull spun, bucking violently, and the rider’s body swung downward. Mendez’s face connected with the back of the bull’s head as he did a front flip over the horns, then his body hit the ground in a cloud of dust.
Loco Joe didn’t stop bucking as he spun around. Then three men wearing colorful face paint darted in, stepping between the grounded rider and the bull. They whooped and hollered, waving their arms to get the bull’s attention, distracting him just long enough for Mendez to scramble out of harm’s way. The whole thing unfolded in a matter of a few seconds, and the crowd cheered.
After watching a few rounds, I started to realize that the bulls had just as many fans as the riders did. I cringed, grimacing every time a rider was thrown, and even covered my eyes a couple of times—though I always peeked through my fingers, because as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t look away. I was always relieved every time the rider limped away, relatively unharmed. Slowly but surely,