Page 27 of Homebound

“Hey, Kodie!” one of the bull riders, Tyler, shouts, wiggling his dark brows. “You want to introduce us to your newest friend over there?”

“You gonna wreck him like Bowman?” Someone else whoops.

“Y’all mind your own business, or I’ll wreck you!” I call over my shoulder, ripping myself away from Wyatt’s firm grasp.

I wish I had a better comeback other than I’ll wreck you, but I always think of the best ones a week later in the shower.

A few of the riders whistle at us, but I know they’re only messing around. Bull riders are a tight-knit group. We’ve got to have each other’s backs in this dangerous world, and we’re all friends—only friends. I made that mistake once with Boone, and learned my lesson the hard way not to fuck where I shit.

Nasty visual, but it gets the point across.

Wyatt’s eyes narrow on the guys. He opens his mouth like he’s about to tell them off in my defense, but I instinctively press the tip of my index finger to his lips. “Don’t do that.”

The move startles him. “Do what?” His warm lips brush my fingers when he speaks, and I jolt back, startled by the zap of heat on my skin.

That’s never happened before.

“Don’t defend me or whatever you were about to do. I don’t need it. I can handle myself.” I lower my voice right along with my hand, flexing out the fiery imprint his lips left behind. “Not to mention, it makes me look bad in front of all the guys, so I need you to stop.”

“Talking to you makes you look bad?” His brows pinch. “How?”

“No. Not that. You coming to my rescue makes me look bad.” I flick a hand to the cowboys dangling their boots off the fence. “Would you have rushed over to any of them if they fell off the bull?”

His mouth tightens. “No. Of course not, but they’re not you.”

“Right. That’s my point.” I poke his chest. Damn, that’s solid. “I need you to treat me like everyone else.”

His eyes bore into mine, unyielding. “I could never treat you like everyone else.”

“Well, you better start tryin’, sugar.”

A muscle twitches in his cheek, betraying his calm exterior, but before he can add anything, someone booms my name.

“Get your ass over here, darlin’!”

I jerk my head to my father’s raspy drawl. He’s got a scowl under the brim of his black hat, which means I’m about to get a lecture, but I always appreciate his advice. With one last stern look at Wyatt, I spin on my boots and stalk off past the bull riders perched on the ledge of the fence. They all start whooping as I strut past.

“Maverick almost got ya, Kodie!”

“I was on the edge of my seat watching that one!”

“You a little sore there, girl? You sure you can handle another ride?”

They’re fooling around, so I breeze right by them. “I can always handle another ride, boys!”

Anytime someone tells me I can’t do something, all it does is make me want to prove them wrong, and prove them wrong I will. Though, I bet I’ll think of a much better comeback while I’m loofah-ing myself tonight.

The bull riders continue hollering playful jabs, but at least they don’t placate me with meaningless encouragement. I’d rather have someone be blunt but honest than lie to me just to be nice. I can’t stand when people give me empty praise like You can do this! when really, it’s me who’s going to have to get on the back of the bull.

Not them.

I stop in front of my father, bracing myself for his blunt critique. He looks me over with those deep-brown eyes that shine as intense as mine. “You know I’ll always give it to you straight, darlin’, that wasn’t good. You know it. I know it. And now, let’s talk about how we can fix it.”

My dad’s got this way of calling me out without beating me down, and it’s one of the reasons I strive to be just like him, and I want to make him proud. “I know. What do I need to do?”

He uses both hands to squeeze my shoulders and then shakes me lightly. “For starters, you still need to loosen up. You’re too tight. You should go out dancing. What happened to that? You used to love two-stepping at The General.”

Patterson was always my two-step partner, but I stopped dancing when he left because all it did was make me miss my summer boy, which made me depressed, which had me spiraling. “No. I don’t dance anymore.”