with curiosity burning in my veins. The man smiled, leaning close and obviously flirting. He trailed his fingers over the patch of chest still showing where Sam hadn’t finished buttoning his shirt. Watching that happen, a sudden strange twist of jealousy curled in my belly. I knew why. I didn’t like him touching Sam. I didn't like that one bit.
Sam didn't reciprocate, but he didn't push him away either. He chuckled, cheeks turning just a tiny bit red, then the guy left as quick as he arrived.
“Fraternization is against the rules, you know?” I said, unable to stop myself.
Sam's eyes found mine. They were usually ice blue, but now they’d turned to dark, angry, fierce steel.
“And we all know how much you like to follow the rules,” he tossed back, glaring at me as he walked away.
It looked like Sam Ryker was talking to me after all. But dammit, he wasn’t saying what I wanted to hear.
Sam
I stood outside the old barn we’d converted into a training space for me when I was a kid. A fake bull suspended by ropes on either corner hung in the middle of the space, straw on the floor, just in case I fell. It was hard to be here. Hard to remember the day my dad showed me what would turn into an obsession and a career. I’d been ten years old the day I’d successfully survived riding an angry horse. The poor horse had a bee under her saddle; it wasn't her fault that she was going wild. I’d managed to stay on long enough before getting thrown that after he tore into me then made sure I was okay, Dad recognized my natural ability. Fearlessness, he called it.
Especially when I got up, dusted myself off, and put my hat back on my head. He’d laughed and stopped me in my tracks as I attempted to get back on. That was the moment he’d decided. A week later, he brought me to the barn and showed me my future.
Now I had to teach twelve guys how to be me, for all intents and purposes. I wasn't sure how my dad would have reacted to what the ranch had become, but this was where we were. I had been gone way too long. I couldn't help but wonder if I was part of the reason we had to let the reality show become a thing.
The whisper of boots on the ground stopped me as I rested my hand on the saddle of the makeshift bull. "You been doing a great job avoiding me, Tucker. Why are you here now?"
Tucker's bitter laugh coated my skin with a mixture of frustration and lust. "You always think it's about you. I'm not here for you. I've been reassigned to a new job."
It took everything in me not to whirl around to face him. “And what's that? Wrangling cattle ain't good enough for you anymore?"
"Apparently, the rodeo king they have in the cast ain’t gonna be able to handle all twelve guys. So, I'm picking up some of the slack. You teach them to ride, I'll teach them to rope."
What the fuck was he talking about? "No one said anything to me about this."
"Don't think they have to. Clint owns this ranch. He calls the shots, and when the producers came to him, he offered me. I have more than my fair share of wins."
I spun around, finally forcing myself to look at him. God, he looked good. He always looked good. When I first got back, when I finally had to face him again, it’d been so hard, I’d turned around and walked away without a backward glance.
Frustration singing in my blood, I did the same damn thing. I shoved past him, my breath tight in my aching chest.
“Runnin’ again? That seems to be all you do around me,” he muttered, but I heard his steps behind me. He wasn’t letting me leave without some kind of conversation.
When I got to the stable and found it empty, dread curled in my gut. I’d been hoping for someone to distract us from this situation we were in. No such luck. Instead, he caught up with me and grabbed me by the elbow, turning me to meet his heated stare.
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
A derisive snort was his first response, then he looked me dead in the eye. “You know exactly what I mean, Sammy.”
I shook my head, not wanting to talk