Page 24 of Roping My Rival

Jesse leaves a folder with work to be done in the drawer, and sitting on top are the tax forms for Dane with a note to add to payroll.

“This address sounds familiar. Didn’t know he lived in town, but if he’s here, I guess living in town makes sense.”

“Do you always talk to yourself?”

The man in question stalks into the office like he owns the place and flops on the couch across from me.

“Do you always enter buildings when they’re closed?”

“The door was unlocked.” Dane drawls, and his gaze shifts to my container of cinnamon buns on the desk.

I pull the container closer.

“I guess I didn’t lock it after me. Which is fine. It’s how people come in to book stuff occasionally. Beats phoning or emails.”

“Not a fan of faceless contact, are you?”

“It’s easier in person sometimes, is all.”

Neither of us speaks, and the odd feeling that used to surface when he was close returns. A fizzing in my body that I don’t understand. I hated it then, and I hate it now.

“So…team roping is new for you?” I begin because honestly…where do I start with this?

“Yep.”

More silence stretches, and Dane just sits there with his irritating smirk. Like he knows remaining silent pisses me off.

“Fine. I’m just gonna say it. I’ve been thinking about this…partnership. I’m not a fan of working with someone who has not once shown an ounce of respect to me or the sport. You’re a sore winner, and you’re mean. My dad wants me to team rope. He always has, and he has no clue about the tension between us.” Dane’s smirk fades, and I don’t know why I expected more from him, but now that I’ve opened my mouth, I can’t stop.

“Since you’re probably wondering why I didn’t win the championship while you were away, it’s because I can’t handle the pressure. Well, not then. I took time off to work on my mental health and just distance myself from rodeo until I could love it again. I won’t have you mock me about that. I will end this so fast if you push me, Dane. I want to win, but not at the expense of your jokes.”

Wow. That feels good to get off my chest. I guess I really was holding shit in. Dane remains silent and chews at his lip.

Then he shocks me with his words.

Warren is hot when he’s angry.

I probably shouldn’t be thinking about him like that, but this is a side I’ve never seen. Sure, I never gave him a chance half the time to respond when I was in his face like an asshole all the time. His brown eyes, usually so warm, brim with contempt while he speaks, and the longer he lays it out, the worse I feel.

But I need the cash this partnership will bring, and we need to get along.

“I’m sorry.”

Warren’s hand grips the edge of the desk while his chair wobbles. “What?”

“I’m sorry for how I acted before, and I know the rodeo school has a reputation. I promise I won’t do anything to bring the name down.” Swallowing, I figure I’ll show some honesty as well. “I’m sorry you struggled so much, and if I was a part of that, I’m…still sorry.”

If there’s a better word than sorry right now, I don’t know what it is. But it seems to be enough.

Warren nods, and his shoulders relax. “Okay. Good.” He shuffles some papers on his desk before raising his gaze to mine again. “Would you like a cinnamon bun? My pops made them this morning. I don’t like to share, but since you apologized, I’ll allow it.”

Oh no.

How can he be spitting angry at me one minute, then offering me a fucking cinnamon bun with a shy smile and a cute—nope. I’m not going there. This is still Warren Burke, and maybe we cleared the air, but we sure as hell haven’t erased the board with our history.

“Sure. Thanks.”

Reaching forward when he pushes the container towards me, my stomach growls loud enough to draw a laugh from Warren. I do a decent job of not staring at his throat when he throws his head back laughing, and I sit back with the gooey cinnamon bun.