Page 12 of Let Her Buck

Maybe everything has.

We step off the Ferris wheel, our feet back on solid ground, but it feels like I’ve left something up there in the sky. Maybe my damn heart.

Laney’s hand is still in mine. She’s quieter now, more thoughtful. The flush in her cheeks is bright under the string lights of the fair, and she keeps glancing at our joined hands like she’s not sure what to do with the feeling.

I’m not letting her go.

Not after that.

I tug her gently toward the arena, toward the one place she’s probably dreading, and I don’t miss the hesitation in her steps. But she comes anyway, wordlessly, her fingers warm and small in mine.

The noise grows louder the closer we get, boots stomping on bleachers, bulls grunting behind the chutes, the low twang of country music playing over the speakers. The smell of dust and leather fills the air, familiar and grounding. For most, it’s chaos. For me, it’s home.

We stop just outside the gate. “I’ve gotta go get ready,” I say, turning to face her.

Her gaze lifts to mine, steady but wary. “Okay.”

I hesitate, my grip tightening. “You’ll stay, right? Wait for me?”

“I said I would,” she murmurs, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Laney,” I say, my voice low but urgent, “I need you to promise me.”

Her eyes soften, and she nods. “I promise.”

I take a step back, but every bone in my body resists it. The part of me that’s lived like a drifter—untouched, unaffected—is screaming for me to just walk away, get my head in the game.

But the part of me that kissed her at the top of a Ferris wheel?

He’s already turning back.

Screw it.

I close the distance between us in three long strides, cup her jaw with one hand, wrap the other around her waist, and kiss her like it’s the last damn thing I’ll ever do.

Hard. Deep. Claiming.

She gasps softly against my mouth, but she doesn’t pull away. Her hands clutch the front of my shirt like she needs something to anchor herself to. I pour everything I’m feeling into the kiss…my want, my fear, my promise. Her lips part and I take full advantage, slipping my tongue into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of cotton candy and something uniquely her.

The crowd around us erupts in surprised whistles and cheers, a few hoots and catcalls flying overhead, but none of it matters. The only thing I see, feel, and hear is Laney. When I finally pull back, I let my eyes take her all in…her blazing cheeks, her wide eyes and rosy plump lips. Everything.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” I mutter.

She’s speechless. Blushing like crazy. But she’s never looked more beautiful. Wild. Flushed. Alive.

With one last glance that threatens to undo me, I turn and head toward the chutes.

I hear some guy call out, “Damn, Holt! That your girl?”

Damn right she is.

I hop the fence and drop into the pit, my boots kicking up dirt. I nod at the crew, grab my gear, and get to work, settling into the familiar routine—strap, rope, gloves. The bull I’m set to ride tonight is a mean son of a bitch, all muscle and attitude, stomping hard behind the gate.

Normally, this is where I go quiet. Cold. Where I shut off the world and become nothing but muscle memory and instinct.

But tonight…

Tonight is different. Tonight, she’s here.

---