Page 3 of Homebound

Soon enough, she was the one jumping into my arms, and I was always there to swing her around, feet dangling, foreheads bumping.

Until I wasn’t.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer shouts.

Cowboy hats rustle in the dusty arena, and I wipe the sweat dripping down my neck. I really should cut my hair, but she always seemed to like it longer.

“Turn your heads to the chute ’cause you’re gonna want to watch this next ride,” he booms. “She’s known for that famous scowl, and tonight, she’s taking on Hammer, a beast that’s thrown off every rider daring enough to face him. You don’t want to mess with her, folks!”

I scan the arena, searching, searching, searching for her.

My eyes dart frantically through the dusty haze carrying the tang of manure on the hot breeze. It’s been over three years since I last looked into her beautiful honey eyes, but I can’t find her. Where is she? Suddenly, I spot her standing by the metal chutes.

My stomach nosedives.

She’s not looking at me, but I’m looking at her, and she’s... Well, she’s magnificent. There’s really no other word for it.

She’s standing there in all her rugged glory with that same fierce determination straightening her shoulders. Bull riders tend to be anywhere from five-foot-five to five-foot-ten, so at five-foot-seven, she’s a good eight inches shorter than me, but she carries herself like she’s the tallest person on the planet.

Those full, perfect lips I’ve only imagined kissing a million times are set in her permanent scowl, but I know exactly where to tickle her to make those dimples appear—the back of her knees and, weirdly enough, her elbows.

Her wavy brown hair is tied back in a braid beneath her straw cowgirl hat, and she’s clad in her patched riding jacket and fringe chaps that hug every curve—and damn, there are a lot of them now.

Way more than she had three years ago.

My mouth goes dry at the thought of dragging my hands along the slopes of her thick, muscular body. I’ve spent too much of my life imagining doing just that.

And those freckles I know are on the bridge of her nose? A man can only handle so much.

She radiates this aura that commands attention, and not because she’s breathtaking, even though she's always been that—beautiful, stunning, gorgeous—pick your adjective.

They all fit her.

It’s her scowl that always teeters on the edge of a smirk as if she couldn’t care less about anyone’s opinion of her, which she doesn’t.

My chest throbs with a painful intensity as she prepares to climb onto the back of a raging two-thousand-pound bull. She’s fearless, and if my baby girl grows up to be just as bold, I’ll have done something right.

The bull thrashes in the chute, and I hold my breath as I watch her strut up to the metal corral. After all these years, it never gets easier watching her face off against a bull, and as much as it scares the hell out of me, I can never look away. She’s risking her life, so she deserves every ounce of my attention.

“Get ready,” the guy says next to me, nudging his friend. “This one’s gonna be a wild ride.”

“Yeah,” the other cowboy comments. “All two seconds of it, since she can’t manage to hang on.”

“Eight seconds,” I grunt, tossing them another glower for good measure. “All she has to do is stay on the bull for eight seconds. She’s got this.”

I repeat the phrase like a prayer and lift the mood ring dangling from the chain around my neck. Kissing the metal, I remember the day I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me. I was eight, and she said no because she wasn’t ready to get married, but I promised to keep the ring until she was, and keep it I did—for sixteen years.

Looking at her now, I realize those feelings have never gone away. I tried all kinds of vices to get her off my mind after I left.

Whiskey. Weed. Women.

They all got me in trouble, but that last one got me my daughter, so I’ll never regret that choice.

But none of them worked.

Because I’ve always been hers... but she’s never been mine.

“Alright, y’all!” the announcer’s voice slashes through my memories. “Let’s bring out our next rider! She’s bold. She’s mean, and she’s got one hell of a scowl. Give it up for Kodie Cutler, the Cowboy Killer!”