Page 141 of Buckin' Around

“Making my twelve months great. Letting me be part of yours and Ivy’s life, even for a little while.”

My jaw feathers.

“Shut it, O’Malley. Before I’m crying instead of laughing.”

“Didn’t think bull riders would cry...” she hums.

Oh baby, you have no idea.

Luckily, she won’t be here to see me fall apart in a few short weeks.

Jimeoin sits on a stool, raising the mic to his lips.

Laughter is the only sound that fills this old cottage living room after a few minutes. Riley leans into my side as she tucks her feet underneath her, and I drape my arm over her and hug her tighter.

Slow down, time. Just this once . . . please.

The set is over by the time I realize Riles is sound asleep against my side. I pluck up the remote and kill the TV. Standing, I stretch before reaching down and lifting her into my arms. She mutters something, curling into my chest. Like she belongs there. Her long hair swings over my arm. Wonder where her scrunchie went.

I take my sweet time making my way to our room.

Once over the threshold, I lower her onto the bed and slide her boots off. She’s going to be uncomfortable in those jeans, but over hell’s warmed-up carcass am I waking my girl. I tuck her in and sweep her hair away from her face as she rolls over.

Time to call it a night.

My favorite time of day, when I get to wrap myself around my favorite damn person alive.

Riley is dancing in the kitchen to a song that was apparently her mom’s favorite as she makes Ivy breakfast.

Five hundred miles or whatever by the Proclaimers, or somebody.

“Come on, Ivy girl. Dance, sweet girl. We did it!” She’s holding up her phone where the results of her MBA exams are on the lit-up screen.

She did it. Finished with honors, to boot.

Ivy’s bopping on her feet, just as excited as Riley, despite not understanding why. I make a mental note to add the song to her playlist, which is growing by the day as she and Riley spend their free time listening to tunes while they play on the mat—or anywhere, for that matter.

She squeals. “Dada! Dad, dad, dad . . .”

I’m pulling on my boots, ready to help Brades out for the day. But we will be celebrating this milestone tonight, whichever way my girl chooses.

I stand and shove my hat onto my head. “Come here, Riles.”

She gives me a coy look from the safety of the other side of the kitchen counter. I stalk for her, and she slips around it, trying to escape.

Ivy watches on, delight etched over her little face, Mr. Fluffy strangled in one hand.

Riles tries to dodge back the way she went, and I catch her with one arm. Her head falls back as I take her weight, her laughter filling the space.

“No escaping, baby.” I litter her face with kisses, complete with smackingmwahsounds, as she tries to bat me away with her fine hands. “You’re mine.”

There’s a growl in my voice that must have landed, because her laughter dies out and a shiver crawls over her body as she stands and presses into me.

Palms flattened on my chest, Riley sucks in a breath. “Have a good day, Spence.”

Her throat works as she puts space between us.

I get it. She doesn’t want to talk about her impending departure.