Free The Cowboy's Forever Family by Deb Kastner Page A

eight? Slade made it look easy. With effortless grace and athleticism, he anticipated the bull’s every move and brilliantly compensated, even when the animal dug in all four feet and hopped sideways and backward.
    After what seemed like forever, a buzzer sounded and the man spotting Slade pulled his horse in close so Slade could jump to safety, if that’s what it was. The way Laney saw it, he practically flew off the bull, seriously jarring his body when he landed on his feet and jogged a couple of feet to regain his balance.
    Slade bent to retrieve his black Stetson, which he’d lost about halfway through his ride. He raked his fingers through his hair, replaced his hat, and tipped it in her direction. Or maybe he was acknowledging his little fan club. She didn’t know and she didn’t care.
    Laney felt the heat rising to her cheeks as her breath returned to her lungs. Her heart, which had only moments before been a still, solid mass in her throat now jolted back to life and started beating with all the vengeance of a jackhammer.
    Slade disappeared behind the high row of bullpens. Laney pulled her hands from the fence and picked at the sharp splinters, welcoming the pain to distract her. Better than thinking about what she was going to do to Slade when she saw him.
    â€œLaney.” Slade’s rich, deep voice came from over her left shoulder and she stiffened but did not turn. The teenage girls’ chattering increased exponentially, sounding as if they’d gone from a few sparrows to an entire flock of geese. Laney watched Slade from the corner of her eye and was surprised when he didn’t so much as acknowledge his young fans.
    Instead, he moved in right next to Laney, leaning a forearm against the fence and bracing a foot on the lower rail. The long sleeves of his dirty white Western shirt probably prevented him from getting the splinters Laney had received, but it would have served him right if he’d picked up one or two, or a whole log’s worth of them.
    Feeling as if she were about to boil over, she refused to look at him until he nudged her shoulder with his.
    â€œSo, what did you think?”
    What did she think? What did she
think
?
    She whirled on him and let him feel the full force of her fury. Anger and grief and a surprisingly heavy dose of anxiety coursed through her as she glared daggers at him, clenching her fists as tension rolled through her.
    This wasn’t about thinking. It was about feeling. And right now she was feeling—well, she didn’t even know. Just that he’d opened something in her that she desperately wanted to remain closed.
    Unable to contain herself any longer, she reached for his chest and took handfuls of his shirt in her fists. At first she had the notion of shaking some sense into him, but the man was built like a tree. She could have pushed all day and he wouldn’t have budged.
    Not unless he wanted to.
    He wrapped his large hands over hers, completely encompassing them, but instead of forcefully breaking her hold on his shirt, he lightly brushed the rough pads of his thumbs across the backs of her hands.
    There was pride striking back from the depths of his blue eyes, but there was confusion, too, and other emotions Laney couldn’t put a name to, which made her feel even more vulnerable than she already was.
    â€œHow could you?” she choked out. Slade’s gentle response had taken the wind from her sails and her voice sounded more like a sob than a demand. “How could you go back to riding bulls after what happened to Brody? Don’t you have any sense at all? Any kindness in your heart, knowing that I’d be here—that I’d see? Did you even think about what I might be feeling?”
    His features hardened and his brow lowered.
    She knew what she was about to say wasn’t a fair question, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Her tongue was lashing out with all the fury of a horse whip,