Page 6 of Unguarded

Duke is up on a horse with a rope, ready to lasso any of the bulls who try to run off before they’re locked into a pen. Jensen nods, raising one hand in the air, and the gate swings open. The bull underneath him spins out and starts bucking wildly. He yelps as it darts to the left, his body weight throwing him out of balance. He swings down toward the ground, but his gloved hand stays attached to the rope wrapped around the bull’s chest.

He yells for help as the bull starts flinging his body around like a rag doll. The other cowboys try to get close enough to assist while avoiding the flying hooves of the animal. I lean over to spit into the dirt near my boots.

“Hope he doesn’t die. Last thing we need to deal with is a dead ranch hand,” I muse.

Holden snorts a laugh as Duke reaches the bull and finally releases the rope that was caught around Jensen’s hand. He drops to the ground, immediately crawling toward the safety of the fence.

Another one of the hands moves to help him stand, and he limps toward the house. I guess I missed the part where he hurt his leg, but it might’ve gotten trampled in the chaos.

“That one’ll fetch a pretty price at the Riders,” Holden tells Pops, who grunts his agreement.

The Riders is an underground bull riding ring, and we supply the bulls for them. It runs on illegal betting and reckless cowboys. We’ve all competed in it our fair share of times, padding our personal accounts and using some of the profits when the ranch needed it.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, tapping on the screen to see a familiar unsaved number.

Unknown

I hope you know if you had fully committed to me, he’d be out of the equation.

My on-and-off fling with Kacie is becoming an unnecessary headache. I clench my jaw and make my way toward the chute as they release another bull with its rider. I don’t always ride, but today, I need to release some steam. My phone goes into Duke’s hand as I don a worn pair of riding gloves from the community bucket of gear.

“Uh-oh, the big dog is up, boys. Make room in the line,” Duke taunts.

He’s the brother who never shuts the fuck up.

I climb over the fence and wait as they bring in the nextbull. He’s a huge fucker with a tanned hide and a fully white face. His black eyes meet mine like he knows exactly what’s about to happen.

I grin at him, feeling the blood and adrenaline already starting to race inside my veins, giving me the much-needed high I wanted. As I mount his back, he’s completely still.

Fuck.

The calm before this inevitable storm is one of the most terrifying places I’ve ever been, but I keep returning to it time and time again, like a crazy fucker who enjoys the torture and pain.

“Ready, brother?” Duke asks.

I exhale, checking the rope around my gloved hand one more time before nodding at Duke to open the gate. He does it instantly, sending me to a place that feels otherworldly. My instincts react to the pure terror, and my brain switches to survival mode.

My left hand clenches around the rope as my right stays raised in the air. The animal bucks high before jerking me back down to the earth. Each round of kicks rattles my brain.

I control my breathing throughout the chaos. My lower body stays clenched tightly around the bull while my upper half remains fluid, following his movements.

“Damn! You’re a graceful motherfucker!” Duke calls out.

I finally hear the eight-second timer go off and reach down to grip the rope with both hands. Duke rides up next to me to release the flank strap. When I look up, my eyes catch a flash of blonde hair on the side of the arena.

Dolly and Rosie are brunette and redhead, respectively, but they could have a friend over.

After the bull calms down slightly, I slide off his back and walk to the edge of the pen, trying to shake off the feeling of my teeth being slammed together inside my skull. I spit blood on the dirt before looking up to grab the fence railing.

Bright blue eyes meet mine.

Monroe Blue.

Her curly, pale blonde hair blows in the breeze but still somehow looks perfect. She tilts her head slightly, eyes shifting back to the bull I just rode on the other side of the arena.

“You’re, like, a real cowboy,” she says, a touch of awe in her voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” I drawl.

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