This Kiss (Made In Montana Book 12) by Debbi Rawlins

stared at him. “Are you saying that bull wasn’t scary as hell?”
    The other guy laughed and leaned back. “Hey, Lenny, she’s talking to you.”
    “What?”
    Sophie sighed. “That bull looked pretty intimidating to me.”
    “Is this your first rodeo, honey?” Lenny asked, his craggy features softened by a kind smile.
    “No, but...” She breathed in deeply and glanced toward the chute. She wished she could see Ethan. Wearing a helmet. “Bull riding is nerve-racking.”
    “Then you might want to sit out the last ride.”
    “The last— You mean Ethan Styles,” she said, a sickening wave of dread swelling inside her. “Why?”
    “Matt Gunderson’s new to the stock contracting business. But he’s raising some good rodeo bulls. I heard Twister is one mean son of a—” Lenny gave her a sheepish grin, then shifted his gaze to the arena.
    She realized the next rider—Cody something or other—was being announced, so she kept quiet and let the two men enjoy the event. Although how they could voluntarily watch a bloodthirsty bull try to pulverize someone, she’d never comprehend.
    Yes, she understood some rodeo basics. For instance, the bulls were scored on their performance, just as the riders were. The scores were then combined for a potential of one hundred points. So clearly the more difficult the bull was to ride, the more points the rider received overall. But points didn’t matter here. Ethan had told her so last night. Matt was supposed to be his friend. So why give Ethan a son of a bitch to ride?
    No, it hadn’t been Matt who’d made that call. It had been Ethan. She’d bet anything he’d insisted on riding the toughest bull. Stupid, reckless idiot.
    She stared down at her aching hands. And only stopped wringing them to drag her damp palms down her jeans. The crowd’s collective gasp made her look up.
    The rider had been thrown over the bull’s massive head. He landed face-first in the dirt and then crawled until he could finally stand. When he staggered, it was Matt who jumped into the arena and helped the cowboy to the side. The bull continued to furiously buck, trampling the man’s tan Stetson. Why wasn’t he wearing a helmet?
    He lifted a hand to let everyone know he was all right.
    The crowd responded with deafening applause. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. Ethan was next.
    Please, please, please be wearing a helmet.
    “All right, folks, you all know who’s up next... Having finished the season at number two, Ethan Styles is arguably the hottest rider on tour,” the announcer said, which inspired a few catcalls. “Whose agility and athleticism has won him the respect of his fans. And once again a trip to the finals in Las Vegas—”
    Applause and cheering nearly drowned the man out. Handmade signs had popped up in the crowd. Some clever, some incredibly corny. One sign read Marry me, Ethan.
    “Settle down, folks. It might be another minute or two. Looks like he might be having some trouble with Twister, who I’ve been told is a savage bucker. Like the other two bulls we’ve seen today, Twister belongs to Matt Gunderson. No stranger to you all, but new to the world of raising bulls. He assured me we won’t be disappointed with Twister, says he’s a real killer. I guess we’ll all find out soon enough...”
    The announcer continued talking, but Sophie had stopped listening. She rose from her seat, trying to catch a glimpse of Ethan. She could see his sun-streaked hair as the bull rocked him against the metal railing. No helmet. Damn him.
    “Miss? You mind sitting down? We can’t see from back here.”
    Sophie heard the voice behind her, but not until someone touched her arm did it register the man was speaking to her. With an apology she sank back onto her seat. Maybe it was a blessing that she couldn’t see. Her nerves were already frayed. Why wouldn’t he wear a helmet? It was just plain foolish.
    “Styles is nuts,” Lenny said. “I can’t figure out why he’s riding