Page 82 of One Last Rodeo

It might have been the longest eight seconds of my life, my lungs locked tight as I counted them down in my head, but he stayed on the entire time. He looked strong and grounded. Like his body trusted itself again.

He didn't slip, didn't hesitate, didn't bail early. He rode the full eight seconds and made every one of them look earned. I know how much that took physically. But even more than that, I know the kind of mental and emotional strength it takes to come back after an injury and trust your body again—to believe you won't fall and end up right back where you started.

And even though he didn’t catch my eye before his ride, didn’t ask me to hold out my tongue like he said he would, I still heldmy breath anyway. The flash of his hand when he dismounted showed the red paint streaked across his nails to match mine, visible when he tugged off his riding gloves. These were enough to tell me he’s claimed me in ways that no one else can understand yet.

My cheeks heat just thinking about the stretching room and what we did in there. Something I would never—ever—do with someone under my care. And yet since Jensen entered my orbit, I’ve been breaking rules I built my entire life around. I've been stepping out of the normal lines that I've drawn for myself.

I just can’t tell yet if that makes me reckless… or more honest.

“So, we’ll see you for dinner?” my mother asks me, her smile warm and easy.

She looks so much like me. It’s something I never noticed when I was younger, but the older I get, the more people comment on it, and now I see it too.

The almond shape of her eyes. The shine of her dark hair. Maybe I had to step away from surgery, from being so relentlessly critical of everyone and everything, to finally notice how wonderful my mother is. Because my mom is a saint. She always has been. She’s one of the kindest, most generous people I know. It's an honor to look like her. It’s an honor to be an Alba.

“Yes,” I say. “And I invited a few of the riders and staff. The team photographer, June, our coordinator Noa…” I trail off.

It could have just been me and Jensen. I wanted it to be at first. But I invited others to make it seem less… couple-y. Safer. Especially since I still don't know what exactly it is that we're doing. All I really want right now is to be alone with him, taking my clothes off.

There’s something about watching Jensen on the back of a bull that makes me so terrified and turned on.

She nods. “Okay. Your dad’s waiting at home, so I better get back and start prepping the food. See you soon.”

“Love you, mom.”

Her smile melts a little as she hugs me. And for once I don’t turn stiff. I hug her back.

“Love you too, Mija.”

I watch her leave, then turn toward the exit chute where the cowboys gather after rides—signing autographs, posing for photos, soaking in the crowd that shows up for them. It’s packed, which is unsurprising. It was a big ride, and Jensen’s first one back since the injury.

I still haven’t told him about Olivia’s surgery and about missing Seattle. About the fact that I won’t be there in two days when he rides next, but that I know his injury will be fine. I've examined it, had the scans redone in Tennessee, and I'm confident he'll be okay without me physically present. But I still want to give him a heads up that I have to step away from the series for a few days.

I elbow my way through the mass of people, flashing my staff badge until I reach the front. Micah, Joel, and a few of the others are surrounded by a cluster of women who look far too eager for their attention.

“Hey,” I say. “Have you guys seen Jensen?”

They exchange a look. One of those ‘we know why you're asking’looks.

They couldn’t… could they? I know Jensen wouldn’t have told them. I trust him. But we also haven’t been subtle since Nashville. Not with the way we look at each other, or the sneaking around between hotel rooms.

“I think he went to meet Dawson in the training room,” Micah says.

“Okay. Thanks.”

No need to explain my happiness to them or come up with some lie about checking his shoulder again. Us hooking up isn't a risk I would normally feel is worth the payoff, but something about what Jensen and I have feels different. Beyond that, I know working in the rodeo won’t be forever. I’ll have a life after the series wraps up. And I’m starting to think it might include Jensen.

Heat creeps into my cheeks at the thought, and I carry it with me the entire walk down the tiled hallway toward the training room. My heart feels lighter than it has in days, fluttering with equal parts excitement and nerves. But the second I reach the door, I stop short.

Voices drift through the open crack. The moment I recognize all three of them, my heart plummets.

“Yeah. It felt good,”Jensen says.

Relief flares then promptly dies.

“Well, I’m glad you came to me,”the other voice replies. This one is full of confident arrogance. It's familiar in a way that makes my skin go cold.

“It never hurts to get a second opinion. Especially since this is my specialty. I’m the top orthopedic doctor on the West Coast. I'm better equipped to make this decision than a heart surgeon. I’ll take a quick look, and we’ll go from there on what the right course of action may be—”