Buck You! (Buck Cowboys Book 2)

by Elle Thorpe

  I’d never once let myself consider her complete and utter rejection. Those weren’t the sort of dreams adopted kids had. It was always the fairy-tale reunion, where your birth parents had just been waiting for you to reach out so they could welcome you back into their lives.

  Maria slammed the door in my face and zoomed out of the driveway like she couldn’t get away from me quick enough.

  She didn’t look back.

  For the tiniest of seconds, I considered going to her front door, banging my fist against the wood, and outing her to her entire family.

  For the tiniest of seconds, the thought of imploding her life, just like mine had been, gave me satisfaction.

  But I couldn’t do it.

  I wasn’t the guy who did things to hurt others purely out of spite.

  I’d just wanted to know her. I’d just wanted a minute of her time to heal the part of me that had always wondered.

  I guess I’d gotten it. I knew now. For better or worse, I knew.

  I trudged back to the truck with a stifling pressure crushing down on me. It wrapped itself around me, squeezing my chest until I couldn’t breathe. I stared at the house I could have grown up in if only she’d wanted me. I sat there, while minutes turned into an hour, feeling more and more claustrophobic as the time slipped by, and still I couldn’t bring myself to drive away.

  This morning would haunt me. Her scathing rejection would play over and over in my mind, and just when I thought I had forgotten it, I’d be reminded every time I drove past her house on my way out of town.

  The look in her eyes as she’d threatened to call the police would break me if I didn’t do something.

  I pulled out my phone and found the number for my dad’s friend, Frost. Georgia was two hours ahead of us, so there was no chance the man wouldn’t already be awake, despite the early hour here.

  He answered on the first ring. “Dominic? Everything okay?”

  No. Everything is shit. I don’t want to be in this tiny town where I might run into the woman who birthed me yet can’t stand the sight of me. I don’t want to drive past the school and know that I have biological siblings inside it who I’ll never get to know. And I don’t want to go home because my parents know me better than anyone, and they’ll see it in my eyes. I’ll have to tell them what I’ve done. I’ll have to tell my mother, that despite her giving me everything, I was selfish enough to want more. I’ll have to watch something in her eyes die, with the knowledge that I needed more than she could give.

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head on the window. “I need to get out of Wyoming for a while. I heard you’ve got a job opening.”

  2

  SUMMER

  “So, do I need to tell you what happened out there?”

  Despite the fact Preston Innes was almost a foot taller than me, I had no qualms about berating him when his form sucked. And the ride I’d just witnessed had been about as graceful as a hippo doing a pirouette.

  “Yeah, I know.” He brushed dirt off the ass of his jeans.

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Did you even bother using your core? Those abs of yours just for show, or do they actually work?”

  Lennon, my youngest sister, nudged me with her elbow, her eyes wide and horrified. “Summer!”

  “What?” I laughed. “If he wants to ride with no shirt on because he’s a show pony, then I’m going to give him shit about it.”

  Preston grinned, but Lennon obviously didn’t share my amusement. She’d gone bright red and shuffled off without saying goodbye.

  I wasn’t surprised. My sisters weren’t really into the rodeo scene, and by default, the family business. They weren’t used to the daily banter I had with the guys I trained. Especially ones like Preston, who’d been here for years. Normally I had a few of the guys out here to practice as well, but Preston had a big competition coming up, so he’d paid for some extra one-on-one time. Which was just about up. “One last ride,” I called. “And this time, make a goddamn effort.”

  His overconfident swagger had me rolling my eyes. The guy wasn’t half as good as he thought he was. But I still liked him. He reminded me of myself. I’d probably been just like him, back in the ‘before’ as I liked to call my pre-injury days.

  A dust cloud at the main entrance kicked up, and when it cleared, Austin’s silver BMW picked its way over the ruts and gullies, going about three miles an hour in an attempt to not scratch the paint.

  Preston had shooed the bull into the chute, and I’d helped him with his ropes before Austin even got out of his car. He was only just approaching as I climbed over the fence and yanked open the gate.

  The bull exploded out of the chute, with Preston sitting high on his back, core actually engaged this time.

  “Babe! Come look at this email!”

  I waved a hand distractedly in Austin’s direction, trying to keep my focus on what Preston was doing. He really just needed to —

  “Summer! I need to talk to you.”

  Irritation spiked through me like an electrified cattle prod.

  The bull spun to the left, sending Preston off his back and into the dirt.

  I sprinted out into the arena, shouting at the bull, grabbing his attention to steer him away from his rider. If there was only two of us out here, the person not on the back of the bull did all the jobs. Helped with ropes, pulled the gate, and acted as the safety crew. It was rarely a problem with these bulls well used to bucking off their rider, then immediately heading for the exit gate where their food and water waited for them.

  But that didn’t mean I could be anything but one hundred percent on my game. I was responsible for my students while they were under my guidance. Austin knew that. So the fact he was still talking at me, distracting me from my work, and putting one of my riders at risk, ground my nerves. I’d told him a million times that I couldn’t talk when I was at work.

  With the bull safely in his pen, I focused back on Preston, who was still sitting in the dirt.

  “Better?” he asked, grinning up at me.

  I held a hand out and pulled him to his feet. “Yeah, better.”

  Preston’s gaze strayed to Austin. “Your ball and chain seems kinda pissed. You gotta go?”

  I didn’t want to discuss my personal life with one of the guys I trained. I liked Preston, we were probably even friends, outside our student-coach relationship. But that didn’t mean I wanted to talk about my personal life with him. “Your time is up anyway. Just put the gear in the barn, okay?”

  He saluted me, like the smart-ass he was, and strode off toward the seating outside the ring.

  I finally turned my attention to Austin.

  He was watching Preston walk away, his eyes narrowed. Then he scowled at me. “Why are you coaching so late? And where is everyone else?”

  He reeked of jealousy, which was just ridiculous. My job was working with young guys. It was just the way it was. But even after all these years together, Austin still made snippy comments about it.

  I ignored him, like I always did. I’d learned years ago that it was better to distract Austin than try to explain that I loved him, and the fact I worked with other men was really irrelevant. “What did you want to show me?”

  He thrust his phone in my direction. It was one of those yuppie kinds that was almost big enough to be classified as a laptop. I stabbed the screen to light it up.

  It was an open email from a big accounting firm in the city.

  Austin didn’t even wait for me to read it. “I’ve got a second interview! It says they really liked what I brought to the table and want to discuss things further. I’ve got an interview next week. Do you want to come with me this time?”

  I tried to rack my brain for an excuse. “Ah, no. I don’t think so. I’ll probably have to work.”

  Austin’s frown reappeared. “Your dad owns this place. Take a day off and come with me. We can look at apartments while we’re there. Maybe even go out for dinner and see a show. Stay in a fancy hotel…”


  I knew most women would probably jump at that sort of invitation. But I had no interest in seeing a show or eating food that had been blended down to some sort of pulp and slathered across a plate to be artistic. What was wrong with a good old steak and fries from the bar?

  I kissed his cheek apologetically. “It’s just that Preston has a big ride next weekend, so we have a lot of extra training sessions coming up. Next time? I swear.”

  Austin put his phone in the pocket of his dress shirt with a sigh. “Sum, I’m going to get this job. You realize that, right? This second interview is really just a formality. Which means—”

  “We’re moving. I know. You already told everyone.” It came out more forceful than I intended. But I wished he’d stop bringing it up. I knew he was trying to get me excited about the move—the move I’d agreed to—but I just couldn’t. I supposed I should at least be happy that we wouldn’t be moving there without a job between us.

  But I hated the idea of leaving this place. I hated the idea of the polluted city air and high-rise buildings instead of open fields. I didn’t want to go. But Austin did. And he’d spent years sacrificing his career while I tried to get to the pros and then recovered from surgery. It was his turn. I had to be fair. Even if the thought of moving made me want to throw myself in the dirt and hug the fence post until I was forcibly removed.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and tell you to start getting moving boxes organized. But now I’ve got to go prepare.” Austin jingled his keys. “I’ll swing by tomorrow after work, okay?”

  I nodded and watched him get in his car and drive off. He hadn’t even asked how my day was. Or kissed me goodbye. Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember the last time either of us had even bothered.

  I hadn’t missed it.

  The thought was depressing. I sank down into the dirt and ran my fingers through the soil. We’d turned the lights on so we could see, but beyond that, darkness engulfed the ranch. And all around me quiet invaded. I closed my eyes. This is what I would miss. Every day I spent in the city, working at a job I hated—because I would hate dressing in a suit every day and sitting behind a desk shuffling papers—I’d be dreaming about coming back here and sitting in this dirt.

  “What are you doing?” Preston called.

  I blinked open an eye. “You still here?”

  “Yeah, got distracted talking to some of the horses in the barn.”

  I would have laughed, but I did the same thing on occasion.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  I couldn’t give him that. I couldn’t tell him that I might only have a few weeks left here as his coach.

  Only a few weeks where the chance to ride again would be right there at my fingertips.

  I bit my lip as that old, familiar desire rose inside me. The one that I’d been ignoring for a year now, because my injuries whispered they were too severe, too permanent to try again.

  If I didn’t try again now, that would be it. It would be really over. Really truly over, because there wouldn’t be a bull and a bucking chute right outside my door.

  I pushed to my feet and looked Preston dead in the eye. “Can you stay an extra ten minutes?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Got nothing better to do.”

  “Get some ropes. And a bull.”

  He eyed me. “I thought we were done.”

  Nerves shot around my stomach like rabid dogs released from a cage, and I was suddenly certain I would vomit. But I forced the words out of my mouth anyway. “You are. I’m not.”

  His eyes widened. Preston knew exactly how long it had been since I’d gotten on the back of a bull. But he didn’t say anything. Just ran off to do as I asked.

  I sucked in a few deep breaths and climbed to the top of the bucking chutes on legs that wobbled. I shrugged a few times, watching while Preston got a bull into the chute and put a rope around him.

  I eyed the bull he’d chosen. “Thanks for going easy on me,” I drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. He’d picked out Grave Digger, one of the meanest bulls we had.

  He tightened a rope. “If I’d picked an easier bull, you would have sent me back, we both know that.”

  He was right. If I was going to ride again, I didn’t want to do it on some baby bull barely strong enough to hold my weight.

  He handed me the ropes, and I got settled over Grave Digger’s back. He kicked the stall, just to show me how unimpressed he was that he’d been dragged out again after being put back in his pen.

  “You sure this is a good idea?” Preston asked.

  “No. But I’m gonna do it anyway.”

  “Figured as much.” He climbed down and took up his spot by the gate, wrapping the gate rope around his hand once to give him a better grip.

  Seconds felt as long as a week, while nervous sweat beaded at my temples.

  “You ready?”

  “Just pull the fucking gate, Preston,” I griped.

  For once, he did as he was told.

  Grave Digger stormed out, kicking his hind legs and turning straight into a right-hand spin.

  Muscle memory kicked in.

  It didn’t matter that I’d been out for a year. I’d ridden this bull so many times, I knew him almost as well as I knew Austin. I raised my left hand in the air, partially for balance, partially because it was an automatic disqualification if you touched the bull.

  That was all it took for it to come unraveled.

  Pain splintered through my left side before I could even get my hand over shoulder height.

  Along with it came the fear. Complete and utter terror that it was going to happen again.

  I couldn’t do that sort of pain more than once. I wouldn’t survive it.

  I yanked my hand from the ropes and dismounted, landing on my feet and sprinting for the safety of the fences. Babying my bad arm, I grabbed the fence with my right hand, using my legs to haul me up and out of the reach of Grave Digger’s horns.

  My heart thumped erratically, adrenaline coursing through my veins but not having its usual effect of pumping me up.

  Tonight, all it did was make me nauseous.

  I retched over the side of the fence, nothing coming up, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

  Preston didn’t say a word. He didn’t try to comfort me or tell me it was all going to be okay. He just waited until I turned around, took one look at my face, and lowered his head. “I’ll put him back and clean up. You go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Heat flamed in my cheeks, and stupid, angry tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. Goddamn it! What the fuck had I been thinking? I knew I didn’t have the strength in that arm to ride anymore. Even after a year of physical therapy, I’d been told time and time again that it was just never going to be the same.

  I’d nodded and accepted my medical team’s diagnosis.

  But somewhere deep inside me, I’d held out hope.

  A hope I’d just killed by trying to be the same girl I used to be.

  She was dead. And she needed to find new dreams. A new life. In a new town, far away from this place and the memories of who she used to be.

  I found my phone on one of the seats and brought up my text messages to Austin, stabbing at the screen with jerky, angry motions that belied the message I typed out.

  Good luck with your interview, babe. I hope you get it.

  3

  DOMINIC

  Planes were not made for anyone taller than about five foot six. That was the realization I came to as I tried to fit my six-foot, four-inch body into a seat that was obviously made for the vertically challenged. My knees pressed into the back of the seat in front of me, and I twisted awkwardly, trying to get comfortable.

  I now understood why my father had always insisted on making the painfully slow road trip from Wyoming to Georgia instead of flying. Over twenty hours on the road was less torture than turning myself into a human pretzel in an attempt to avoid banging my elbows on the tray.

  A woman sat beside me
and watched me struggle for a moment. She was short, probably only about five foot, with a tiny sleeping baby strapped to her chest. “If it helps, you can take up some of my legroom.”

  “Oh no,” I assured her automatically. “I’ll be fine.”

  She smiled. “I know it sounds like I’m just offering to be polite, but truthfully, I’m trying to butter you up.” She pointed at the little one tucked against her. “Karli is probably going to wake up and scream this plane down at some point in the next three hours. If I’ve built some goodwill with you, maybe you won’t be so annoyed when that inevitably happens.”

  I peered at the baby’s tiny smushy face. The kid couldn’t be more than a couple of weeks old, and was so peaceful, her dark eyelashes fanning out across her pale cheeks. “I can’t imagine anything that angelic-looking making any sort of disturbance.”

  The woman grimaced. “Well, now you’ve done it. You’ve put it out there in the universe, and I guarantee she’s going to try to prove you wrong. So please, take some legroom, and remember that it was you who uttered the incantation to rain hell down on us.” But she said it with a smile and smoothed back her daughter’s wispy blonde hair in a touch that reeked of love and devotion. “I’ve just adopted her, so we’re still kind of feeling our way around each other. I’m hoping that once I get her home and settled, we’ll have time to build a bond.”

  A pang echoed through my chest. Just days ago, a comment like that wouldn’t have bothered me at all. I probably would have launched into the tale of how I was adopted, too, and how great a life I had.

  But now, any talk of adoption had my palms sweating. I smiled stiffly at the woman and turned to look out the window, even though all there was to see was tarmac and luggage handlers throwing suitcases into the belly of a plane on the opposite runway.

  Guilt ricocheted around my body when I remembered my mom’s face as I told them I was leaving. I couldn’t explain the real reason why I’d taken a job so similar to the one they were offering me on their ranch, but across the other side of the country. I’d made up some bullshit excuse about needing to make my own path and do some traveling before I settled down.