Page 17 of Buck Me, Cowboy

The breakfast area bustles with families preparing for the final day’s events. I select a variety of options for Rebecca—achocolate croissant, some fresh fruit, a blueberry muffin—and balance a tray of coffee as I make my way back to the elevators.

The circuit doesn’t have to mean constant travel anymore. Maybe I could base myself closer to Rebecca’s family, compete regionally, build something stable enough to deserve the kind of love she offers so freely. I could find work on a ranch.

I’m imagining Sunday dinners with Rebecca’s family as I step off the elevator onto her floor, when I round the corner of the hallway and nearly collide with a woman.

“Apologies, ma’am,” I say, nodding at her as I keep walking.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The blonde woman moves in front of me, blocking my path, her smile predatory and confident. She’s wearing a low-cut blouse that reveals the lace edge of her bra, and her body language screams availability. I recognize the type immediately—the kind of woman who follows the circuit looking for cowboys, hoping to catch one permanently and step into the spotlight at his side.

“I’m sorry, but I’m with someone.” I step to the side, but she moves to block me again.

“That chubby girl I saw you with at the square dance? Please.” Her laugh is sharp and dismissive. “It’s cute you gave her a good time, but we both know she’s not your type. I know what cowboys like you really want.”

The dismissive cruelty in her voice makes my jaw clench. The way she describes Rebecca, like her curves and substance somehow make her less worthy, ignites a furious protectiveness in me. I’ve met dozens of women like this over the years, butnever has a woman infuriated me so completely as the one standing in front of me.

“You don’t know anything about what I want. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I say pointedly

“Don’t be in such a hurry.” When I try to step around her again, she reaches out and presses her hand against my chest, cornering me with my back against the wall. “I promise I can show you a better time than she can.”

I sigh in frustration. My hands are full, so I can’t physically extricate myself from her. If only this woman knew that she had zero chance with me, maybe she’d stop trying so hard. Hell, she should go find Wyatt if all she wants is to fuck a cowboy.

“Remove your hand from my chest. Now.”

But she steps closer with the persistence of someone used to getting what she wants, pressing her hand more tightly against my chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt. The coffee tray wavers in my other hand as I try to maintain balance.

“Just think about it. One night with someone who knows how to please a man like—”

“I said stop it.”

Just as I’m working to pry her fingers loose without dropping the coffee, I catch movement in my peripheral vision. Rebecca’s hotel room door opens down the hall, and our eyes meet across the distance. My heart sinks like a stone when I watch her expression change from confusion to sadness to anger, in the space of a few seconds. When she steps back into her room and then slams the door, it’s clear how hurt she is.

“Shit.” I drop the pastry bag and forcibly remove the woman’s hand from my chest. “Get away from me.”

“But—”

“Now!” I snap, bending over to pick up the pastries and rush to Rebecca’s door, my heart hammering against my ribs. After last night, she has to know that what she saw wasn’t something I wanted. Right? Please don’t let her think that I played her. I’m not that man anymore.

“Rebecca! Let me explain, please! It’s not what you think!”

Silence from inside the room.

“Rebecca, please. She grabbed me. I didn’t invite that attention at all – she’s not the woman I want. You’re the only woman for me, Spice Queen.”

“Go away.” Her voice comes through the door, clear and tight with pain, and the sound cuts through me like a blade.

I lean my forehead against the door, desperate to fix this. “Darlin’, please let me explain what happened.”

More silence. I can picture her on the other side, assuming the worst about me and my intentions. After everything we shared last night, everything we confessed to each other, I’m terrified I’m about to lose her, and not for anything I did.

“I’ll leave the coffee and pastries here. When you’re ready to listen, I’ll be waiting.”

I set the tray by her door and walk away, every step feeling like a mistake. But pushing harder will only make things worse. I know enough about women to know Rebecca needs some space, and then we can talk.

If she’ll let me talk to her.

Three excruciating hours later,I spot Rebecca loading equipment into her car in the hotel parking lot. The sight of her preparing to leave sends panic shooting through my chest. If she drives away now, whatever we have dies with this misunderstanding.

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