Page 40 of One Last Rodeo

“I’ve practically forgotten about it already,” I lie, trying for a straight face as a vine of panic wraps around my spine. "It's not a big deal. It was unmemorable."

I can't let my little sister think I don't have things under control over here. I've always been the one my sisters have looked up to. Making risky sexual decisions isnotsomething I do. Even if it didn’t feel all that risky at the time.

Somethingshiftedlast night. Physically, emotionally, hormonally—who knows. But I feel… different. Wilder. Maybe even a bit prettier. Less buttoned-up surgeon, more slightly unhinged woman in a romance novel making new choices that change her perspective on life and love. Like sleeping with a man whose idea of foreplay starts with him risking his life in a ring with a bull and ends with him between my thighs, worshipping me with the same focus and control he uses in the arena.

Fingers. Mouth. Tongue. Hips. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Is this what happens after you leave a long-term relationship and finally have sex with someone new? Do people just… start glowing? Break open? Get reckless? Because I feel all that and more. He asked me if I was okay approximately four hundred times. Which should have taken me out of the moment but instead felt… nice.

He was checking in. He was talking me through it. He held my hands.He let me touch his heart.

I pause and glance in the large hotel room mirror that's above the dresser. I swear, my skin looks brighter despite getting only a few hours of sleep. And if anyone understands the psychological chaos of sleeping with someone you shouldn’t, it’s Dani. She dated her old boss years ago, had a literal heart attack at twenty-seven, vowed off men… and then fell face-first into love withLawson Marshall, the human equivalent of a golden retriever dipped in honey and cowboy charm.

I get why she folded. I almost folded when I saw Lawson too, and that was back when I thought a cowboy could never be my type.

Wait. No. Cowboys still aren’t my type. Jensen was a one-night thing.

“We had a drink after dinner with our coworkers,” I say, keeping my tone surgical-level neutral. “And then it happened.”

She narrows her brown eyes, suspicious as hell. “You had a drink with him alone?”

“Yes. I’m treating his shoulder.”

“You’re treating his shoulder?”

“It’s my job to treat him.”

“Your job.”

“Stop repeating everything I’m saying.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m great.” My voice is flat.

“Tell me exactly what happened during this drink and then afterward.”

“I’ve already told you everything.”

“Buthow? Andwhy? Were you drugged? Were you aware you were sleeping with him?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. It’s too early for this. “Goodbye, Dani.”

“No, wait! Sis, wait! Which one was it? I’m serious. I’m not judging. I just need the details. Also, I’m a little in shock.”

I hesitate. “Don’t tell Lawson. I don’t want it getting back to Regan or worse, Hayes.”

“I’m literally sitting on Lawson’s lap right now.” She flips the camera around to show her husband’s handsome face.

"Morning, Catalina." He has the decency to look genuinely uncomfortable, which I appreciate more than my sister’s reaction. Then he ruins it by adding, "For what it's worth, I think it's great. Everyone deserves a little chaos once in a while." He pauses. "That came out wrong."

"It did," I agree.

"I'm going to go make coffee," he says, already standing.

"Thank you," Dani and I say at the same time, and for a second it almost feels like having a sister again.

“Isn’t it early there?” I ask.