Page 79 of Homebound

That familiar spark of excitement flashes in my chest and quickly grows into a flame of adrenaline as I imagine all those people watching me ride, and that feeling is why I keep doing this. When things go right, and you stay on for all eight seconds, there’s no better high.

It makes all the lows worth the climb.

I find my open seat smack-dab in the row of cowboys. No cowgirls in sight. As the only woman, I catch several curious stares and hushed whispers that ripple through the dry heat, but I let their doubts roll right off me. I’m feeling good today.

Real good.

Keeping my head high, I settle down next to a cowboy with his black hat tipped down, but when he looks up and those familiar ocean eyes meet mine, I nearly fall off my stool.

All that anger comes boiling back.

I remember the shit he said in that interview about how I’d never make it in this career, and it broke me, having the person I thought I loved turn against me.

I remember sobbing on the shower floor that night, questioning everything about whether I had what it takes to do this.

And then, I remember stepping back into the arena, feeling like an imposter while I told myself over and over that I had what it takes.

I picked myself back up.

And I’m damn proud of myself.

“Well, howdy there, stranger,” he drawls, chewing on that damn toothpick like always. I used to worry that thing would poke my eye out.

I dig my nails into my palms. “What the hell are you doing here, Boone?”

32

SMILEY

DAKOTA

“Happy to see me?” he twangs out in his heavy accent.

Boone Bowman has always been handsome with his midnight hair, square jaw, and ocean eyes. With that all-black getup, he screams WARNING: BAD BOY COWBOY. But all that previous attraction is gone.

Long gone.

I never loved him. It was all lust. We’ve both got this intense drive to succeed, a grumpy scowl, and a no-bullshit attitude, so our relationship was us constantly trying to one-up each other.

“Why are you here?” I grit out, trying to keep my voice low in front of all the other cowboys in the row. We’ve got an audience.

He takes that infuriating toothpick out of his mouth. “I’m in town for a few rodeos, so I’ll be here the rest of the month. Thought I’d come say hi to my favorite cowgirl.”

“It’s bull rider to you.”

He snorts. “Still got that attitude, I see. How you been? You miss me?”

“Really? You’re asking me that in the middle of a draw?” I demand, annoyed, irritated—you name it, I’m feeling it as I look into Boone’s fathomless gaze and feel… nothing but resentment, thankfully.

I like to let shit roll downhill, but I’ll never forgive Boone Bowman for making me question everything about my skills. He never even apologized, but I don’t have time to deal with him in the middle of a draw.

I could yell, scream, rage at him, but that won’t get me anything. I’d rather hop on my high horse and ride out of this conversation. I hear the view’s great from up there.

All of a sudden, his sneer morphs into a sad grin that could be genuine, but I don’t trust him.

“I just want to talk, Kodie,” he pleads. “Please?”

He’s normally all rough edges, and I’ve never heard him sound so desperate. It throws me off for a second, but I quickly put on my steely mask. “I’ve got nothing to say to you. What’s done is done. We don’t need to rehash anything.”