Page 8 of One Last Rodeo

“DoesJuneknow she’s going to be his wife?”

He snorts. “No. I don’t think she’s ever even looked at him unless there’s a lens and a bull between them. She's always off in her head, snapping photos or on her phone scrolling social media pages sighing wistfully. You know, now that I think about it, I don't think Raf even has a phone.”

“Damn,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck thinking of my buddy. Unrequited love. Guess it’s not even unrequited if she doesn’t know about it.

My eyes drift to Catalina again, the one woman in this room I’m certain isn’t thinking about me the way I keep thinking about her, unless it’s professionally and with mild contempt.

Unrequited. Ha.

Doctor Alba.Right. Not Catalina.

She stands abruptly from the table, movements stiff, almost mechanical, and heads toward the restrooms. Most of the group’s already finished eating, checks paid and drifting out now, which means it won’t be that noticeable if I follow her. And I do just that before I can tell myself why this is a bad idea.

Ever since the training room, she’s been lodged in my head like a splinter. Out of all the doctors in the world that Craig could have hired for the series, why her? She doesn't seem the most qualified to care for a bunch of bull-rider athletes. She's a heart surgeon. The top one in the country. And I need answers.

I round the corner toward the restrooms, planning to wait and intercept her when she exits, but instead I nearly mow her down as I cut around the sharp brick wall.

“Ouch, what the hell—?” She turns, brown eyes wide and startled. My gaze drops to her mouth. Those pretty, full lips. They'd been covered by a surgical mask the first time I saw them.

What a fucking crime.

“Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to be standing here.”

She rubs at the shoulder I knocked into. "Why… are you… so… freaking... rough?"

I take a step away from her. “Whoa now. It was an accident.”

She sighs. “Well do you always barrel around corners without checking first?”

I fold my arms over my chest. She’s shorter than I remembered. Five-three. Maybe five-four on a good day. I’m towering over her at my six-five, and for someone so small, she sure knows how to take up space with all that extra attitude she’s carrying around.

“If you’re asking whether I peek around corners like a cartoon character before rounding them, the answer is no. I don’t do that.”

She lets out a huff. "Maybe you should. You could really hurt someone with your big body."

"There you go, calling me big again. It seems like you're quite fixated on my size,Doctor Alba."

She glares at me.

I smile at her.

“What do you want?” she sighs.

“I'm just standing here. Who says I want anything?”

“Well, why are you standing here?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because you’re blocking the hallway,” she bites out. “Also, it’s weird. You've got this weird look on your face right now." She waves her hand up and down my body. "Like you're up to something. Were you following me?”

“Yes." I don't hesitate and her glare only deepens with my response. "Because I had a question for you.”

“Of course you did,” she sighs again.

I lean one shoulder against the wall, giving her a slow smile. “Why are you here?”

“I’m the Iron Horn series doctor.”