‘Please don’t be sorry.’ My tone is nothing like it had been when I gave Colt the same response back at the beginning of the season, a snappy, salty sarcasm that is far from present now. It’s pleading, beseeching. ‘Really. And, Colt, honestly …’ The stress I’ve been holding all through my back and shoulders melts when I finish my sentence. ‘I don’t mind a little help sometimes. Certainly not with dickheads who try and corner me in stables.’

‘Disgusting.’ Colt shivers, but his hand falls back onto my shoulder. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘I will be. Once I get a shit ton of tacos to distract myself from the ick.’

‘Done. Tacos on me.’

‘Alright, then, hometown talent. Maybe they’ll give ’em to you for free,’ I prod him in the ribs as we walk on out.

‘Oh, no.’ He blushes a ditzy pink. Blushing over Tex-Mex and rodeos, this man. ‘I couldn’t let them do that.’

I roll my eyes, putting on my most exasperated face, and begin preparing some witty jab about how he’s always trying to be all dumb and righteous because of his colossal screw-up in leaving the place with the best rodeo on earth.

But the warmth of his presence, the feeling of safety from just being near him, stops me in my tracks.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Brackets

Colt

Screw tacos. I want to deck that guy so hard his veneers fall off.

I was never the one with the kind of fire that started fights on the field. There were guys on the high school team we counted on for that, and when I moved up to the collegiate level, there were guys for that there, too. On the Woodchucks, I’d say it’s probably Connor, as temperamental as he can be. But after watching that asshole try to corner May, I’m struggling to grit my teeth and settle for imagining throwing the punches.

She changes out of her Western shirt and into a vintage OKC tee. Her braid mussed, she pops on a baseball hat once we’re in the stands, and glances my way for confirmation. ‘Does that do it?’

How do I tell her that it beyond does it? That she could be in stable-mucking jeans and boots or a pantsuit or the most generic college lacrosse uniform and be the most beautiful woman in the entire world every time?

I swallow hard and nod. ‘Looks good to me.’

She returns my nod with one of thanks, coupled with a teasing smirk. ‘You still look pissed. You’ll scare people with that frown of yours.’

‘Sorry.’ I try my best to relax my face. The lingering anger won’t leave it.