His mouth opened a little, but nothing emerged.

  ‘Now, the word we’d use in proper English for this would be “gawping” – maybe even “gobsmacked”.’

  Chuckling, I dipped my hands in the current and used the water to push my hair back from my face, pulling it into a high ponytail.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Jessica,’ he breathed, turning to adjust his jeans.

  ‘Nope, Greek goddess, remember?’ I added, climbing out and pulling myself up the bank. ‘Now, I’m pretty sure Lottie will be busy for a while, so you’re on fire-building duty, okay?’

  He touched the brim of his hat.

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  Dinner was a success.

  As the dying sun bled out behind the mountains, the coral sky now smudged with indigo, almost every plate was clean.

  Lottie’s tried and tested Dean family recipes did most of the heavy lifting, but after spotting a couple of guests wearing band T-shirts I recognized, a sneaky change to the playlist on Cole’s Bluetooth speakers had a group of us rocking out as I took the drinks orders. The rest of the group looked on with a mix of amusement and fascination as we sang along to ‘Killing In The Name’ by Rage Against The Machine, Jesse’s smile turning to a laugh as I belted that famous repeated line with everything I had.

  Cackling with the guests as the track finished, I finally let Bailey change it back over to the country playlist.

  ‘Something tells me that’s your anthem, right?’ Jesse appeared at my side, gathering a long rope in his right hand.

  ‘One of them,’ I answered with a grin, now mid-clear-up, stacking pots and pans back into the crates we’d used to bring them over.

  ‘You’ll have to share the others sometime,’ he said, glancing over at the group for a moment. ‘Maybe in my truck. I was thinking of upgrading the sound system anyway . . . maybe one that can cope with the drums and bass guitar you like.’

  I imagined sharing my favourites, one in particular that I’d started associating with him. I wasn’t sure either of us was ready for it.

  ‘Not sure you can handle it,’ I remarked, reaching out to pick up the heavy crate, only for him to gently move me aside and lift it himself, walking it over to Bailey at the wagon.

  ‘Try me,’ he challenged, ignoring Bailey as she laughed at us.

  ‘You two,’ she said, vaulting up into the wagon to pull the crate in. ‘She’s the match and you’re the kindling.’

  ‘Well, this here matchstick is gonna be my assistant for a minute,’ he winked, shrugging at my confusion as he announced to the guests that alongside having our campfire-brewed coffee, we were going to be running a roping competition.

  ‘Now, y’all are gonna be aiming for our wooden cow over there.’ He gestured to a crudely carved log cow, complete with long curved horns. ‘But Cole and I thought it might be more entertaining to demonstrate on two moving targets.’

  Lottie suddenly looked up from her clearing, shaking her head as Cole approached, already circling the rope over his head.

  ‘Not a fucking chance,’ she said, glancing at me for a moment, catching the momentary tilt of my head to the left.

  ‘Now, what you want here is a nice smooth motion, just a gentle flick of the wrist,’ Jesse instructed, only half watching us as he also lifted his rope in the air.

  ‘Go,’ I shouted to Lottie, both of us bolting away from the serving tables towards the creek.

  ‘Fuuuck,’ she yelled, laughing as the rope landed around her, Cole letting go of his end to prevent her from tripping over.

  As I turned to glance back at Jesse, his rope landed over me to raucous applause from the guests behind, the metalheads hollering their approval the loudest. He dropped it too, allowing me to step out before he came over, as Cole took charge of organizing the guests into teams.

  ‘Prettiest damn thing I ever had in my rope,’ he said, gathering it up again. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘You likening me to a cow?’ I teased, holding his gaze for a moment. Then, before I could stop myself, I added, ‘But you don’t need a rope, you know.’

  His whole expression changed, fingers tightening around the loops for a moment.

  ‘You can tell me to fuck off,’ he started slowly, watching me carefully. ‘But if you’re free August twenty-fourth, will you come with me to Cole’s brother’s wedding?’

  It was leftfield enough to give me pause. I felt the weight of his stare, that same depth of sincerity as clear and urgent as the mountain current.

  ‘Your plus-one?’ I clarified, giving him a soft smile, a strange churn of nerves as he returned it.

  ‘My plus-one and then some,’ he whispered, tracing a finger along the neckline of my tank top. ‘But please, for both our sakes, no see-through tops. I’m not gonna fit a giant fucking boner in my good suit.’

  I shrugged as he turned back to help Cole.

  ‘No guarantees, cowboy.’

  He shook his head, still smiling as he approached the group.

  It was almost enough to distract me from the undercurrent of anxiety ahead of the rodeo. On the ride back, with the very first stars puncturing the eastern sky, I ended up riding next to Cole.

  ‘You have a good time?’ he asked, striking me yet again with how such a giant bear of a man could have such a calm, kind vibe. His voice was gravelled and deep, blending effortlessly with the scenery around us as it faded into twilight.

  ‘Until I was openly compared to livestock, yes,’ I joked, receiving a throaty chuckle in response. ‘I have got a question, though, on the whole rodeo thing.’

  He nodded, pushing Domino forward a little to keep in step with Penny.

  ‘Shoot,’ he said, tilting his head as I figured out how best to word it in my mind.

  ‘Is there any way . . .’ I began, then stopped, knowing how my question would come across. ‘Can Jesse be talked out of the whole bull riding thing? I know it’s his choice, I just . . . Can’t you earn decent money from roping? Or something else?’

  Cole narrowed his eyes, looking out towards the mountains on our left.

  ‘I’m not sure he can,’ he said, sighing. Then, to my surprise, ‘Between us, I’m not a fan of it either – but that man is two things, sugar, and it’d help you to know what they are right now. One is stubborn. Once he’s landed on something and he wants it, ain’t nothing shaking him off, bulls included.’

  I bit my lip, glancing over to where Jesse and Bailey rode together with the guests, deep in conversation.

  ‘Yeah, I got that,’ I said. ‘And the second?’

  Cole paused, straightening up as he rolled his broad shoulders back.

  ‘That man has a heart so damn big that there ain’t a challenge or a setback in this world that will stop him doing something for the people he loves.’ His stare was intense, a frown appearing on his brow. ‘So as I see it, it’s our job to go with it and see if we can’t help him out. Make sure he’s got a soft landing if he falls.’

  I felt his message loud and clear, knowing that we weren’t talking about rodeo any more.

  ‘I don’t want him to fall in the first place,’ I murmured, dipping my head, running my hand over Penny’s soft neck. ‘He deserves better.’

  Cole was silent for a few seconds, leaving enough space that I wondered if he’d heard me.

  ‘We get what we need,’ he said softly, eyes fixed on Lottie up ahead.

  I nodded, dwelling on the implication as we crossed into the familiar meadow below the ranch. Through the fir trees, the main house glowed on the ridge above. The rest of the ride was quiet as night gathered around us, the impending darkness mirrored in my mind.

  CHAPTER 12

  HESTIA

  The day of the rodeo was another scorcher, and everyone else was up and out before the sun had a chance to slow things down. My daily routine now started and ended with Luci, although Jesse had offered to take over her morning feed, predicting – correctly – that having to get up at 6 a.m. and be coherent and outdoors would be intensely painful for me.

  Not wanting to give princess vibes, I’d taken over cleaning and prepping the tack he needed for guest rides. He hadn’t asked, but a quick dig for information from Lottie had revealed the process and I’d just got stuck in, with a few pointers from Bailey.

  His response had been fucking adorable. Genuine surprise flickering through his eyes, telling me I didn’t have to, that he understood I wasn’t a morning person.

  ‘I wanted to,’ I’d replied; then, as his expression became unbearably soft, ‘Besides, I’ve seen the state of the tack. And I’m willing to bet I’ve had more experience with leather than you.’

  He’d roared at my suggestive eyebrows, a sound imprinted on me, repeating now in my mind as I smiled into a bowl of granola. It was barely 9 a.m. but I was alone in the kitchen, trying not to replay the whole thing over and over.

  My phone rang.

  It was Cal. His name was like a slap, jolting me from the safe haven of my thoughts. Bracing myself for combat, the edge of his words still sharp from last time – hell, from the last six months – I finished my mouthful and picked up.

  ‘This is going to cost a fortune,’ I said, suddenly aware that my tone was already hard, defences raised. ‘I thought we agreed to stick to email from now on?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks for asking,’ Cal spat, moving in and out of range of the microphone. ‘I’m just between clients and I had five minutes so I thought it’d be quicker this way.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ I sighed, putting him on speaker and carrying on with my breakfast. ‘What’s up?’

  Apparently placated at a chance to offload, he delved into his issues, general ramblings about the studio and even a mention of a new relationship; someone called Becca. The same frustrated, claustrophobic feelings that had threatened to bury me back home before I arrived here rose all over again. Resting my elbow on the table, chin in my hand, I was dragged back into his erratic current, stupefied into barely moving as footsteps approached and entered behind me.

  I turned to see Jesse, frowning as he met my gaze. He gestured towards the door as though asking if he should leave.

  Shaking my head, I mouthed, ‘Five minutes.’ He nodded slowly, poorly disguised concern across his face as he took a mug from the cupboard and poured himself a coffee from the pot. Then, with a glance at me noting the absence of a coffee on the table, he poured a second.

  ‘. . . So what do you think I should do?’ Cal was asking, and I realized I’d totally zoned out.

  ‘Whatever you want,’ I replied, my tone flat as Jesse brought the coffee over. ‘Thanks,’ I murmured, attempting a half-smile but knowing it was more of a grimace.

  It was Cal’s turn to sigh.

  ‘Sorry, am I getting in the way of your holiday plans while I try and keep our business running?’

  On the point of turning away, Jesse stopped, coming back to face me as he leant against the counter. I could feel my anger rising, drowning the sensible voice that told me not to go there, not to fall back into our usual cycle.

  It was like riding a fucking bike.

  ‘You know what, Cal?’ I spat, suddenly wishing he was here in person to tear apart properly. ‘You gave up the right to ask me what to do and solve all of your problems a few months ago. Longer, actually, when you checked out of us. You want to talk about holidays? What about the two weeks when you just fucking disappeared earlier this year?’

  Jesse’s expression had darkened, setting down his coffee on the counter as though ready to intervene.

  ‘Are you seriously having a go at me for having a fucking breakdown?’ he yelled, his dial instantly turning from one to ten, just as it always did in response to me.

  I pushed back from the table and took a breath, closing my eyes for a moment, letting the darkness calm me just enough to take it down a notch.

  ‘No, and I didn’t at the time either, remember? I just got on with it, covered your clients and admin without fucking complaint and did what needed to be done. But this is a break for me, okay? I need a break, and I deserve one. Look –’ I paused, desperate to not sink to his depths. ‘Why don’t I just postpone my clients for now so you can concentrate on yours, and I’ll go through the business inbox later, make sure we’re up to date with all the admin. Okay?’

  There was silence at the other end before he drew a breath.

  ‘Look, if I annoyed you by bringing up Becca . . .’

  ‘You didn’t, Cal. What you do with your personal life is not my business, and vice versa. I’m moving on.’ I kept my eyes low, feeling Jesse’s on my face, assessing me. ‘I’ve got to go. If you have any business-specific issues, just email me. I think it’s better for both of us that way.’

  We hung up and I leant back against the chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. My nails dug deep into my skin, but somehow the pain took the edge off the echo of the words.

  ‘Honey, if I smoked, I’d offer you a cigarette right now,’ Jesse said. His voice was soft, but when I looked up, his eyes were hard.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Quit years ago,’ I mumbled, knocking back as much of the coffee as I could handle, hoping it might somehow burn out the feeling Cal left me with. As I stood up, tucking my phone away, Jesse rounded the table towards me.

  ‘Come here, for fuck’s sake,’ he gestured, holding an arm open towards me.

  I hesitated, just for a second, then stepped into him. His warmth, that same intoxicating smell enveloping me as his arm did. My eyes closed instinctively as I leant against his chest, wrestling internally with how comfortable this felt and therefore how much I did and didn’t want to return home.

  ‘You still coming to the rodeo?’ he asked, his voice muffled as he rested his head against mine for a moment, his lips against my hair.

  ‘With fucking bells on,’ I murmured. I could feel a sudden surge of resolve firing up in the brief safe haven of his hold.

  Jesse chuckled as I gradually released him, all too aware of how much longer I could’ve stayed. My anxiety around his first bull ride for months was resurfacing in the wake of Cal’s distraction.

  ‘You want to come over with me, Cole and Bailey? Lottie’s staying here with the guests this time, I think. We’re going pretty soon, so . . .’ He glanced at my pyjamas: black shorts and one of Lottie’s oversize vintage Disney tees, featuring a very faded Thumper.

  ‘You told me to tone it down for the rodeo,’ I shrugged, finally managing a real smile when I saw his. ‘But listen . . . I don’t want to tell you what to do – I have no right, I know. But . . .’

  ‘Spit it out, Jessica,’ he said, glancing down at the T-shirt, pulling on the hem.

  ‘Just be careful, please,’ I begged, not intending for it to come out with the intensity it did. ‘I just can’t imagine—’

  He closed the gap between us, leaning down. In one heart-stopping moment he pressed his lips against my forehead, his hands on my shoulders.

  ‘I swear to you, I’ll be fine. And as soon as I’m done, I’m coming to find you and the others, collect my winnings and then spend it all on fireballs. See if we can’t get ourselves barred from Shelby’s this time? Maybe dodge the chaperones and see what other trouble we can cause?’

  The implication was crystal clear. Once again, I wondered if he’d remembered the dare I’d taken on, the booking I’d made to prove a point. I assumed he hadn’t, figuring he would’ve suggested cancelling it. Just as I kept intending to do.

  ‘Don’t tempt me,’ I replied, watching as his gaze slid over mine, then down to my mouth, my body.

  He bit his lip, taking a step back.

  ‘Too late for that, honey,’ he murmured as he turned for the door. ‘See you there.’

  As Lottie dropped me off – with a wistful look at the buzzing crowds before she headed home – I knew I’d been right to brazen it out and arrive alone. Partly because the anxiety before the event would have driven me over the edge here, among the energy of the crowd. And also because I’d dressed as . . . battle-ready me.

  It steadied my nerves to climb into clothes that felt like a second skin, to slowly and carefully prep my make-up as I would at home. The result was tiny black denim shorts, a blood-red corset, black platform Doc Martens and my hair curled but half pinned up. Soft waves fell around my flame tattoo, and silver dagger earrings next to a row of mixed studs followed the curve of my ear. My make-up was dark, especially around my eyes; my lips were the colour of my corset.

  Finding my way around to the chutes as Lottie had instructed, I showed my pass to the steward, who looked mildly shell-shocked by my outfit. The staring continued as I went in, suddenly adding to my nerves. What if Jesse actually hadn’t been joking, and I would now utterly distract him and cause . . .

  Mentally slapping myself, I resolved to pull it the fuck together just as I saw Bailey and her friend, Darcy, practising in a smaller corral out of sight of the crowds.

  As Buckeye thundered down the centre of the corral, I marvelled at how Bailey had managed to build a rapport with him so quickly. It was remarkable how well they worked together, the horse clearly hanging on every signal she gave him.

  ‘Hey, Hestia!’ Darcy waved, trotting over as I approached the fence. ‘Whoa – you look awesome! You here by yourself?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Lottie had guest stuff to do at the ranch, so she dropped me off. It’s all good though.’

  ‘Well, damn, cowgirl,’ Bailey said, recovering her breath as she came over, patting Buckeye’s neck. ‘That’s quite a statement. Sure you’re at the right place? The Jackson Collective’s over in town.’ She winked, pushing her hat back a little. I shrugged, suddenly wishing Dee were here, that we could buddy up on the alt vibes.

  ‘That’s next week,’ I said, feeling a jolt of excitement at the thought of creating Dee’s tattoo. ‘Call this a trial run.’

  ‘Well, honey, I sure appreciate it,’ Bailey smiled. ‘But I know you’re here for Jesse – he’s up real soon, just over there.’

  She pointed to the bucking chute, where a gaggle of cowboys were gathered in a mass of denim and hats, a number of cute, mainly blonde, women among them.