I blink once for dramatic effect. “ ‘Buck the fuck up’?”
“Is ‘grow the fuck up’ better?”
My jaw drops ever so slightly. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t like my brother. My brother doesn’t like you. But I don’t care. You two are constantly after each other like little boys on a playground. It’s exhausting. You guys can go measure dicks, or whatever it is you like to do to each other, later. When I’m not present. This is a great opportunity for me, and I’m just doing my job. Like a grown-ass woman with professional goals. Because”—she pokes me firmly in the chest with each word—“I. Don’t. Care.”
My chin drops as my gaze locks onto the offending finger. “We would never measure dicks. He already knows his is smaller.”
She smiles, reaching up to pat me on the shoulder condescendingly. “Guess that big dick of yours didn’t help you win the championship this year though, huh?”
My tongue pushes into my cheek as I refrain from responding to that dig. She’s right. I shouldn’t take my frustration out on her. So I retreat, reaching behind myself to open the door. “Go ahead. Go get the lay of the land so you and Theo can have a good laugh about it later.”
She moves to step into the house but draws up short, head tilting as she regards me. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?” She smells fresh, like laundry soap.
“Disclose anything about this—about you—to my brother.”
I arch a brow in her direction, signaling that I don’t believe her.
“Did you tell anyone about that night?”
A pit forms in my stomach as I recall that night on the ship—like it always does. “No. Didn’t seem like my story to tell.”
Her eyes search my face as though she’s looking for something. The truth, perhaps. But that is the truth.
“Did you tell anyone?” I ask, curious. My head cocks as I recall an interaction. “Because once I asked Theo how you were doing. I genuinely wanted to check in. He told me to go fuck myself, though, so I got the sense he didn’t know.”
Her lips twitch as she carries on smoothly. “I told a counselor at the university. She helped me a lot. Other than that, it wasn’t something I wanted to rehash with my family or friends. Nothing happened. Onward and upward.”
I stare back at her, wondering if that’s the truth or just what she’s convinced herself of. Because it seems to me that something did happen. But I also understand not wanting to share every bit of trauma—God knows I don’t have a leg to stand on with that. So I settle on, “I’m glad to hear it.”
She nods once. “Well, this show doesn’t seem like my story to tell either. Plus, I’m under an NDA.” Then she pushes past me, her shoulder brushing against my arm as she murmurs, “So I guess we’re even now.”
Then, I watch her walk into my family home. My one safe space in the world. And while I’m not especially quick to trust, there’s something grounded about Julia that tells me she meant every word.
CHAPTER 4
Emmett
Two years ago…
OUR EYES MEET across the bar. And for a beat they lock.
She lifts her black retro sunglasses up over her forehead with one hand to analyze me more closely. Her gaze roves over my bare chest, swim trunks, and down to the slides on my feet before meandering its way back up to my face. The music thumps so loudly through the open-air pool area that all I can hear is the heavy bass. The one that seems to beat in time with the blood rushing through my veins.
She takes me in critically, but her expression is blank, bored even. She drops her shades back onto the bridge of her nose. And then—as though she’s examined me and found me entirely lacking—she turns her back on me.
Dhruv claps me on the shoulder solemnly, and Caleb removes his mouth from the straw in his drink only to laugh at the silent but vicious rejection.
“Damn! Turning thirty has killed your game,” Caleb exclaims, drawing a nod from Dhruv.
I roll my eyes, taking a sip of my beer before I bother responding to my two best friends from high school. “We all know that isn’t true,” I reply. We haven’t seen each other in forever, so when they invited me to join them on a Caribbean cruise over Christmas, I thought, why the fuck not?
With the WBRF, I’m on the road from November through May, save for Christmas break. But my parents died at Christmas, so the vibes at home are always a little… too sentimental. It means my family spends an inordinate amount of time talking about their feelings and reminiscing about our parents—something I prefer to avoid. And as much as I’m sure they wish I’d show up, they also love me enough to let me do what I need to do.
So the stars aligned for this makeshift high school reunion because the tickets were cheap, Dhruv’s family doesn’t celebrate Christmas, and Caleb’s an only child whose parents planned a trip to Paris without him.
But what they failed to mention when they sold me on the idea is that this is a singles cruise. And while we are all very, very single, being stuck at sea with thousands of people looking for a relationship is not my idea of a good time.
Especially not with her here.
It’s weird seeing her outside of the bull-riding world or in passing around town. During the season, my home base is a condo in Calgary for its easy access to an international airport, but I’m still at the family farm in Emerald Lake frequently. Hell, I spend all offseason living and working there.
It’s a wonder we haven’t run into each other already—a testament to how ridiculously massive this stupid boat is. At least there’s only one night left on this floating city. But it wasn’t all bad. Free drinks, endless sunshine, and catching up with old friends who didn’t talk about scores, bulls, and work the entire time meant I actually relaxed for a week.
“You ever going to tell us why that girl just looked at you like you were gum stuck on the bottom of her shoe?” Dhruv asks, interrupting my reflection on the week.
A chuckle rumbles in my throat, because that is exactly how she looked at me.
Caving in, I cast another glance in her direction.
With those shades still securely on her face, she has a drink in her hand, gold flashing from the multiple rings on her fingers and bracelets stacked on her wrist. Her deep-pink bikini draws the eye, and the white scarf tied around her waist almost glows against her skin—more tan than usual after a week in the sun. She’s slicked her dark brown hair into a low, tight bun that looks downright uncomfortable.
A group of men and women about her age surrounds her, but there’s one guy specifically who’s sidled up close to her while two others do a dramatic reenactment of the story they’re telling. They’re all vying for her attention, and why wouldn’t they? Her brother annoys me, but I’m not above admitting their family genetics are pretty good.
And I can’t help but wonder what the dynamic is with Mr. Too-Close. Not that it matters, and not that I care. She’s with a large group of people, still pretending that I don’t exist, and she seems to be enjoying herself, which is all good enough for me.
So I turn back to my friends, who are waiting patiently for me to explain the silent exchange they just witnessed.