Page 10 of Let Her Buck

I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and wonder how the hell I’m supposed to go back to normal after this.

Because something in me has shifted. Things are definitely not going to be the same after tonight.

Why doesn’t that realization scare the shit out of me?

Chapter Four

West

The Ferris wheel starts moving again, slow and steady, the wind brushing cool against my heated skin. Laney’s nestled close, still breathless, still glowing…

She’s laughing, soft, high, unburdened. And God help me, I’m falling.

Just like that.

Not gradually, not over time. It hits me like a boot to the chest. Sudden and final.

Laney Dawson is it for me.

This girl with the freckles and fire, who sings like she’s bleeding truth, and lets me touch her like I’m something good. She doesn’t even know it, not really, but something about her makes everything else fade to the edges. All the places I’ve been, the roads I’ve ridden, the women I’ve left behind without a second thought…they all disappear when she looks at me.

And I know it’s crazy. I know it doesn’t make sense. I was just passing through, remember? One week only.

But now? I don’t want to leave. Not without her.

She shifts beside me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Penny for your thoughts,” she says, searching my face with a shy smile.

“I’d rather have you,” I reply, watching the adorable blush on her cheeks deepen. I meant to throw her off, make light of things, but I can see the lingering worry in her soft green eyes.

“You okay though?” she asks quietly.

I nod, dragging in a breath. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” she teases, nudging my shoulder with hers.

I grin, but there’s something clawing in my chest. I want her there, with me. At the arena. At the ride. In my world. Even if it’s just for a little while. But that would be so selfish of me. I saw the pain in her eyes when she talked about her dad earlier. Even at that, I can’t just let the night end like this. I don’t want it to end…

At the end of the day, I’m a selfish bastard.

“You gonna be at the arena later?” I ask, voice rougher than I mean it to be. “When I ride…?”

She goes quiet. A heavy silence that sets my heart racing. For the first time in my life, I experience the fear of rejection.

“I don’t really like to watch,” she says eventually. “Not since my papa…”

She trails off, and I wait, not rushing her.

“You know…” she continues, “he was a local legend. People still talk about him like he was invincible. Isn’t it ironic that he died doing the very thing he loved?”

Her voice cracks at the end, and my gut twists.

“I’m sorry, Laney.”

She nods, but her eyes are somewhere else now. “I used to love it…just because he loved it too. I loved the adrenaline, the dust, the cheering crowds. He always said it was freedom, that eight seconds was all he needed to feel alive. I believed him.”

“And now?”

“Now, I can’t watch it without seeing his body hit the dirt,” she whispers. “Can’t hear that buzzer without flinching. It just…it stopped feeling like freedom. Started feeling like a funeral.”

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