Page 30 of Eight Seconds

“Thank you,” I admit. He flicks his eyes over to me in question. “I’m not used to having someone take care of me, but you’ve done it twice now without question. I think part of me feels embarrassed by it, but I’m honestly just so damn glad not to be alone.”

“Doing this doesn’t mean I think you’re incapable of taking care of yourself, Charlie.” Wilder strokes the back of my knuckles, where he still holds my hand, with his thumb. “I know full well you can handle yourself—and I also know you’re too damn stubborn to ever admit that you need help when you do. But loving you, being in this with you, it means you neverhave toask for those things. It makes me happy to do it. It’s a new feeling for me to be needed, but I think I like it.”

I close my eyes, giving him a hum in acknowledgment and contentment. It’s easy to need Wilder. He’s balanced a part of my life I didn’t know was off-kilter. It makes me excited to consider doing this side-by-side: rodeos, traveling, Idaho…I like how all of it fits in my head, and I let the steady thrum of the truck and my imagination lull me into sleep.

“Sorry, baby.” Wilder’s carrying me bridal style, cradling me carefully as he awkwardly gets the trailer door open. The jostling has pulled me out of the brief snooze I took, and I’m alert enough to try and help. I loop my arms around his neck and signal to put me down. He pulls the door open and I toddle through the living space, heading directly for the bedroom in the back.

“Shoes and medicine!” Wilder chases after me. He catches me, spinning me to take my shoes off in the exact same place he put them on my feet earlier. I smile and start to giggle. Clearly, the fever has intoxicated my brain if I find this moment funny. Or maybe I find it charming. Whichever it is, it tickles my insides with how sweet it is.

Now finished with my shoes, Wilder stands before he extracts the orange bottle full of pills and shakes out a dose into the palm of his hand. He grabs a sports drink from the bag he dropped on the counter and offers both to me. I plant my lips over his hand, scooping up the medicine with my tongue, then open my mouth so he can give me a drink to wash it down with. I don’t think I’ve forgotten how to use my arms, but I’m past the point of caring and want to revel in the attention. With great care, he tips the edge of the bottle of red liquid to my lips and I swallow.

“All right,” he tells me, running a thumb along my cheek with affection briefly before he turns me. “To bed with you.”

“Want you to come with me,” I mumble as I pull him flush against my back. “Please, Wild? Come snuggle me until I fall asleep?”

“Whatever you need.” He steps away to shuck off his jeans and shirt, leaving him in just his boxer briefs. He adjusts the temperature on the thermostat to help keep the rig comfortable for both of us. I’ve been fighting the shivers, but it’s still near ninety outside.

Wilder gives me a tender smile as he pulls back the covers, crawling in beside me and tucking the duvet under my chin and around my shoulders. He settles in behind me, spooning me close while he snakes an arm around my middle. The barest of kisses passes over my hair before he exhales.

I fall asleep wrapped in the scent of rich leather and sweet hay, cared for and loved.

17

WILDER

DURANGO, COLORADO — OCTOBER

It’s a quiet drive to the bar in town. The autumn colors of the leaves on the trees we drive past are vibrant in the dying daylight. It’s been nearly two weeks since the conclusion of the rodeo season, and since then, Charlotte and I have been traveling and staying together. She was disappointed to miss her final ride in Texas, but recovering from her ear infection was the priority.

We came to Travis’ property yesterday for an extended stay and to make the most of our training time before the National Finals Rodeo in December. All of us qualified for our respective events, and I know we all want our titles. The bragging rights alone used to be enough for me, but now I have my eyes on the money that comes with it. The winning purse in Vegas contains enough to pay off the property and building costs in Idaho.

Thinking about the home I’ve been quietly designing has me sliding my hand over to rest on Charlotte’s thigh as I drive. I can’t keep the smile off my face when I think of the life I picture for us there. The property will be a mix of the essentials we need and the small things I know she wants. I see quiet falls and snowed-in winters before spring dawns, and we will get to train together in the lead-up to rodeo season. It’s so perfect that it almost scares me that I can’t have it. But then she immediately winds her fingers through mine, and I love how they fill the gaps with an easy touch, the same way she’s filled the empty spaces in my heart and my life. Having this amazing woman beside me as I chase my dream isn’t something I would have ever considered for my life. I was content to ride through life alone—literally and figuratively. But now, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The radio plays a sweet and soulful love song when we pull into the parking lot, and I’m looking forward to showing off tonight. Finally letting go and having fun. This place was Travis’ suggestion, and he’s pulled in not too far ahead of us. When I look at the neon sign, it’s immediately clear why he’s picked it.Velvet Saddleflashes boldly with a byline promising drinks, live music, and mechanical bull rides. I put the truck in park and let out a sigh.

“Fucking Travis,” I mumble. Charlotte flashes me a confused look before she glances around for the man I consider my best friend. When she doesn’t see him, her eyes rest back on mine questioningly. I point up at the sign.

“Why do I have a feeling there’s more to your annoyance than Travis getting in extra practice on his nights out?” Charlotte cuts the bullshit.

“We had a bet a couple of years ago at a place like this,” I confess, sucking my teeth. “Travis said bronc riders couldn’t stay on as long as bull riders.”

“And you agreed to prove him wrong.” She rolls her eyes, gentle laughter spilling from her crimson-painted lips. “Oh.” She twists in her seat, eagerness in her glare as she takes me in. I don’t like the calculated look in her eyes. Charlotte officially knows me better than anyone, and right now, she’s about to level me with what I haven’t admitted. “But you lost.”

“That cocky asshole probably paid them off.” I can hear the pout in my voice, but I don’t care. I’m still bitter. And she’s still laughing next to me before drawing in a breath.

“Baby,you’rea cocky asshole and you’ve never paid anyone off to look good. I doubt Travis had to either.” She pops open the truck door and scoots to get out, her giggles fading. I follow around to meet her as quickly as I can since she never waits for me to help her out. Once her boots are on the ground, I push the door closed and back her up against it.

“You think I look good?” I crowd into her space, smirking down at her. “Is that an all the time thing? Or just when I’m on the back of a horse?”

I love the way Charlotte rolls her eyes in annoyance. I know it’s playful, and I double down on my teasing when I grip her hips and pull her closer. I left my hat at the ranch tonight. I didn’t want there to be any thoughts from other women angling for the temporary ownership that comes in pursuit of it. Too many years of buckle bunnies have taught me well. I’m proudly showing off that I’m spoken for, but Charlotte wears hers. It goes well with the cotton dress flirting around her knees. It’s soft and floaty under my hands, topped by a denim jacket she pulled out of my trailer closet a week ago. It’s loose on her, sleeves covering her hands, and it slips off one shoulder. Seeing her in my clothes does something to me. It brings out a feral side closer to the behavior I see in the livestock we’re around all the time. It’s possessive and runs through my veins like a shot of adrenaline. It makes me want to make this thing between us permanent in a way that’s too early to confess out loud. Just staring at her as I wait for her response, I can’t help but know one day, I’ll be able to say it. I’ll marry Charlotte and make her mine in a way no one will question.I’m a lucky son of a bitch.

“Ready for a rematch tonight, McCoy?”

Travis’ voice comes from the end of my truck, where he leans lazily with an arm on the tailgate, thumb hitching to the door behind him in invitation. We both turn to follow him into the bar, Charlotte linking her fingers with mine again and pulling the jacket back into place.

“Wilder’s not facing off against you tonight,” she says, and I pull up short. Travis spins around in the gravel to cock a questioning eyebrow at me. I lift my other hand in confusion. We both give Charlotte our attention. She wears the determined look I’m used to seeing just before she turns Rooney loose in the arena. I rest my hand on my hip, not surprised when she fixes a glare at my best friend. “I’myour competition. Best eight seconds at an easy difficulty level wins.”

“All right. Who are the judges?” Travis doesn’t miss a beat, jumping into the terms of this new development. He points his finger at me but levels his own demand back to Charlotte. “Lover boy can’t be on the panel.”

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