Page 30 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

Totally fine.

Completely unaffected.

Like a cucumber in a walk-in fridge.

Unbothered.

Unavailable.

Emotionally bulletproof.

Right?

Er, right.

Chapter Six-Kian

Sometimes, a man just has to admit when he’s beat.

I never thought I’d see the day I’d be that man.

Sitting in the back of a parking lot like a lovesick teenager.

Watching the front door of a dive bar like it's sacred ground.

But here I am.

Defeated.

Obsessed.

Royally fucked.

I’m parked all the way in the back lot of Bob’s Bar, engine off, lights off, and every muscle coiled tight while I watch for her.

I know she’s still inside. The rest of the staff left fifteen minutes ago, and the lights are dimmed, but she’s still in there.

Arliss.

Mo Chroí.

Must be closing tonight. Again.

I frown, jaw tight.

She shouldn’t be locking up alone.

Bob Domingo might not be a bad guy, but I don’t like it.

I mean, he’s just old, tired, and lazy as hell.

I heard rumors he’s trying to sell the place, but his asking price is sky high, thanks to New Jersey’s usual brand of liquor-license lunacy.

None of that excuses the fact that a woman like Arliss—small, curvy, vulnerable-looking, though I know better—shouldn’t be left alone at midnight in a half-lit parking lot.

She’s not alone, my Bull reminds me.

He rumbles in my chest, low and content like a beast who’s watching his territory and liking what he sees.

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