Blood and Bravado - Sagebrush Cowboys #3 - Signed Paperback

Eli
Returning to my small hometown in Texas wasn’t part of the plan. After years of clawing my way up the corporate ladder in Dallas, I was supposed to be celebrating a promotion, not recovering from the public implosion of my career. But here I am—licking my wounds in my childhood bedroom, trying to figure out what’s next.

The last thing I expected was to run into Colt Dawson.

Colt is everything I left behind—rugged, fearless, and still chasing dreams that don’t fit in a boardroom. He’s a rodeo rider with a swagger that gets under my skin and a grin that makes my chest ache and my jeans tight. We were rivals in high school, always circling each other like two bulls in an arena, but now? Now, I can’t look at him without wanting more.

What starts as an uneasy truce turns into late-night conversations, shared whiskey, and heated moments in his bed I’ll never forget. But Colt’s world is dangerous—eight seconds on the back of a bull can change everything. The closer we get, the more I see the risks he takes, and it terrifies me.

Colt
The rodeo is my life. It’s in my blood—the bruises, the adrenaline, the applause. But when my old rival Eli turns up back in town, all sharp suits and wounded pride, I realize there’s one thing I’ve never had the courage to face: the feelings I buried for him years ago.

Eli’s everything I’m not—polished, ambitious, and hopelessly out of place on a ranch. He’s also exactly what I want, what I crave in the dead of the night. But when he looks at me, it’s like he sees through all the bravado, straight to the part of me I’ve always tried to hide.

Eli thinks I’m reckless, but he doesn’t understand what it’s like to live for something bigger than yourself. I’ve spent my life fighting to prove I’m good enough, strong enough, brave enough. Falling into his bed wasn’t in the plan, but now I’m facing the toughest ride of all: letting someone in.

When a devastating accident threatens my rodeo career and Eli is offered a second chance at his corporate dream, we’re forced to make an impossible choice. Can we find a way to bridge the gap between our worlds, or will the pull of our separate lives tear us apart?

Blood and Bravado is a steamy, heart-wrenching romance about second chances, courage, and the fight to hold on to love when the odds are stacked against you. With fiery passion, emotional depth, and the untamed beauty of the Texas rodeo, Eli and Colt’s story will leave you breathless and believing in the power of love to overcome it all.

Chapter Four: Colt
“That’s it! Easy does it!” I called out to one of my students as they rode the mechanical bull we had rented for the session. “Keep that hand up!”
For the past two hours all my students had been taking turns on the mechanical bull. We started with basic rules, technique, and form. After I gave them an exciting, albeit painful, performance, they’d been more than happy to get on. And I was more than happy to give my cracked rib a rest. Although, when I’d fallen off, I could’ve sworn I’d heard a small snap. I figured it was just the mat shifting under me when I landed, but the pain in my side seemed to be getting worse. But I didn’t have time to think about that. I had students to teach.
Each student started at the basic level and slowly moved up. Within the hour, all of them were onto the intermediate level. However, each time one of them got close to finishing, I gave the bull operator a small hand signal to throw them. Not a single one had been able to hold on yet. And when I gave the signal for my last student, he was thrown just like the others, hitting the padded mat with a dull thud.
“You almost made it!” I grinned, cheering him on. “Keep at it and you’ll have it down in no time!”
The rest of the kids all cheered him out of the small padded circle. And when hands started going up for who would be next, I had to bring them all back down again.
“That’s gonna be it for today,” I said, my words getting a round of disappointed groans. “But, if you guys liked this, we can always bring the bull back out sometime. But that’s gonna be it for today. Your parents are waitin’ for ya!”
None of the kids wanted to leave of course. Their parents on the other hand, who had been waiting for an extra fifteen minutes past the end of class, were.
“Thanks Mr. Dawson!” one girl waved.
“Yeah, thanks Colt!” the boy next to her called.
“That’s disrespectful,” she shot, burning him a dirty look. “You should call him Mr. Dawson!”
“Colt’s too cool for that,” the boy grinned. “Ain’t ya, Colt?”
“I don’t mind either way,” I nodded, tipping my hat to them both.
They ran off in a rush of giggles along with the other kids, each of them absolutely gushing about the class the moment they saw their parents. It was no surprise to me that my classes were the most popular. Caroline, on the other hand, was a little bit jealous.
As I watched the kids pile into their parents' trucks and SUVs, I felt a twinge in my side. That cracked rib was gonna be sore for a while. I turned to start packing up the equipment when I heard the unmistakable sound of Caroline's boots crunching on the gravel behind me.
“Lookin’ might proud of yourself, Colt,” she called. “Prancin’ like a goddamn show pony.”
“I’m not prancin’,” I muttered, cracking a smile. “And get mad at me just because no one wanted to go to your calf ropin’ class.” I paused for a moment, looking back at her. “Maybe if you opened it up to adults and told them about the applications in the bedroom… well, you might get some students.”
“I could say the same thing to you.”
“My class is full already and I don’t wanna teach at night.” I gave her a wink. “I’d rather be sleepin’.”
“Oh? You don’t wanna go out and use your bull ridin’ skills on the locals?”
I shook my head. “Ain’t no one worth ridin’ around here.”
“It’s not that bad…”
“We both grew up here, Caroline,” I laughed. “And just between you and me, I don’t need to go ridin’ some closet case before he goes home to his wife.”
“How do you know there’s closet cases around here?”
“Because I know small towns. And I also know what used to go on in the locker room in high school. Believe me, some of them boys are gay as hell. They just don’t know it yet.”
Caroline let out a low whistle. "Well, ain't you full of surprises, Colt Dawson. Never thought I'd hear you talkin' so open about that kinda thing."
I shrugged, wincing slightly as the movement jostled my rib. "I ain’t talkin’ openly. I’m talkin’ to you. And I hope,” I added, looking at her seriosly, “That this conversation stay’s between us. If this kinda thing got out on the circuit, I wouldn’t have a job anymore.”
"Fair enough," Caroline nodded, her expression softening a bit. I knew she understood more than anyone how unfair the circuit could be. It wasn’t nice to women and definitely not guys like me. "So, how's that rib holdin' up? Saw you take quite a tumble earlier."
“Nothin’ wrong with it,” I lied, patting my side gingerly. “I’m fit as a fiddle.”
Caroline's eyes narrowed. She knew I was lying of course. "You better not be pushin' yourself too hard, Colt. I know you got somethin' to prove, comin' back here and all, but—"
"I ain't got nothin' to prove," I cut her off, maybe a bit too sharply. "I'm just here to teach, same as you."
Caroline raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh. And that's why you're out here showin' off on a mechanical bull with a cracked rib?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Look, Caroline, I appreciate the concern. But I know my limits."
"Do you?" she challenged, crossing her arms. "Because last I heard, one more bad spill and you might not be gettin' back up again."
I felt a flash of anger, but quickly tamped it down. Caroline had always been blunt, even as kids. It was one of the things I both loved and hated about her.
"That's my business," I said evenly. "And I don’t know where you heard that, but people need to keep their fuckin’ mouths shut.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, I stormed off back toward the grandstands, heading for my apartment.
I heard Caroline's boots clomping after me. "Colt, wait up! I didn't mean to—"
"Just leave it, Caroline," I called over my shoulder, not slowing my pace.
But she caught up to me anyway, grabbing my arm. "Hold on a minute, you stubborn jackass!"
I spun around, wincing as the movement sent a stab of pain through my side. "What?"
Caroline's eyes softened as she took in my pained expression. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up. It ain't my place."
I sighed, deflating a bit. "No, it ain't."
"But I worry about you, Colt. We all do. You've been pushin' yourself awful hard since you got back."
“You all do?!” I laughed. “You’re the only person in this town that gives a good god damn about me, Caroline! After my daddy caught me kissin’ Jesse Malcolm under the bleachers senior year, he told me to hit the road and never come back. And that’s what I did!”
She just stared at me, her eyes wide and glistening.
“I’m okay cuz I have to be. And I don’t need your worry or your pity. I can take care of myself because I’m Colt fucking Dawson.”
Once again, not waiting for a reply, I stormed back toward the apartment. But this time, she didn’t follow me.
I slammed the door to my apartment, the thin walls shaking from the force. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, the pain in my side throbbing with each inhale. I stumbled to the kitchenette, fumbling in the cabinet for the bottle of whiskey I’d brought with me.
As I unscrewed the cap, my hands shaking, I caught sight of my reflection in the small mirror above the sink. My face was flushed, eyes wild, hair mussed from running my hands through it. I barely recognized myself.
"Get it together, Dawson," I muttered, taking a long swig straight from the bottle. The whiskey burned going down, but it was a welcome distraction from the ache in my ribs and the tightness in my chest. However, it was barely more than a mouthful.
I turned the empty bottle over, cursing under my breath. My rib had been hurting quite a bit since I’d arrived and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I’d been self-medicating. And I planned to do more of it. But not here. I had to find a bar.
I tossed the empty bottle in the trash and grabbed my keys, wincing as I pulled on my jacket. The pain in my side was getting worse, but I pushed it down. I needed a drink, and I needed to get out of this cramped apartment.
The late afternoon air was warm on my face as I stepped outside, a welcome relief from the stuffy interior. I could hear the distant sounds of cattle lowing and birds starting their nighttime songs. For a moment, I was transported back to my childhood, sneaking out to the hill behind the house to climb a tree and watch the sun set. But those days were long gone.
I climbed into my beat-up pickup truck, the engine sputtering to life. The closest bar was about fifteen minutes away, a dingy little place called The Rusty Spur. It wasn't much, but it had cheap whiskey and people there minded their own business.
As I drove down the dusty road, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The familiar landscape of rolling hills and scattered mesquite trees blurred past my window. I tried to focus on the road, but my mind kept drifting back to my argument with Caroline.
She meant well, I knew that. But her words had struck a nerve. One more bad spill and I might not get back up again. The doctors had warned me, but hearing it from Caroline made it all too real. And how the hell did she know that to begin with? Was it a lucky guess? Or was there someone out there talking when they shouldn’t be?
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. I'd come back to Sagebrush because Caroline’s school gave me an excuse to be away from the circuit. It gave me a much needed chance to heal. But maybe I was making a mistake. If people were already talking about me not getting back on a bull again, maybe it was time to prove them wrong and fuck the consequences.
The neon sign of The Rusty Spur came into view, a beacon in the growing darkness. I pulled into the gravel parking lot, the truck's suspension groaning as I hit a pothole. The Rusty Spur was a weathered wooden building, its paint peeling and faded. A few pickup trucks and a dusty car or two were parked outside, their owners likely inside nursing beers and drowning sorrows.
As I stepped out of my truck, a wave of dizziness hit me. I steadied myself against the door, taking a deep breath. The pain in my side had dulled to a constant throb, but the whiskey I'd had earlier was catching up to me. Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea after all.
But I was already here, and the thought of going back to that empty apartment was worse than facing whatever awaited me inside the bar. I straightened up, squared my shoulders, and made my way to the entrance.
The interior of The Rusty Spur was dimly lit, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the twang of a country song playing on the jukebox. A few heads turned as I walked in, but most of the patrons kept their eyes on their drinks or the small TV mounted in the corner.
I made my way to the bar, nodding at the bartender - a grizzled old man with a white beard and a permanent scowl. "Whiskey," I said, sliding onto a stool. "Double."
He grunted and poured me a generous glass. I knocked it back in one go, relishing the burn as it went down. "Another," I said, pushing the empty glass towards him.
As he poured, I felt someone slide onto the stool next to me. I turned, expecting to see some local looking to chat up the famous bull rider, but instead I saw a pressed shirt, sandy brown hair, and a pair of amber eyes I hadn’t seen in a decade. Except this time they were surrounded by a handsome jawline and just the right amount of stubble
“Vodka cranberry,” he said, his voice smooth and practiced. “Light on the cranberry.”
He didn’t look over at me as he waited for his drink. I thought for sure he’d recognized me, but he seemed too lost in his own thoughts to notice much of anything. For a moment I toyed with the idea of saying something, but then I pushed it away. Elijah Daniels and I were not friends. Never had been. And I had a good feeling that ten years apart had done nothing to change that. Back in high school we’d been rivals on every single sports team we joined. But I was bigger than him, so I always won. He never forgave me for that.
I turned back to my whiskey, trying to ignore the surprisingly handsome man beside me. But curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself sneaking glances at Elijah out of the corner of my eye. He looked different from how I remembered him - older, of course, but there was something else. A weariness in the set of his shoulders, a tightness around his eyes that hadn't been there before.
"You gonna keep staring, or are you gonna say hello, Colt?" Elijah's voice cut through my thoughts, making me jump.
I cleared my throat, embarrassed at being caught. "Wasn't sure you'd remember me," I muttered, taking another sip of whiskey.
He let out a dry chuckle. "Hard to forget the guy who made my life hell in high school."
I winced at that. "Come on, it wasn't that bad, Elijah.”
“It’s Eli now,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“My bad, Eli,” I replied, stressing his name with sarcasm. “I see getting that hoity-toity job of your didn’t make you any less tolerable.”
“And I see your head’s so fucking big you can hardly hold it up,” he shot back.
I felt my temper flare at Eli's jab. "At least my head ain't so far up my own ass I can't see daylight," I retorted, downing the rest of my whiskey.
Eli's eyes flashed dangerously. "You don't know a damn thing about me, Colt. A lot's changed since high school."
"Oh yeah? Like what? You finally learn how to throw a decent punch?"
His jaw clenched. "I learned there's more to life than being some dumb jock in a podunk town. I got out of here, made something of myself."
I let out a harsh laugh. "And yet here you are, right back where you started. Guess that big city life didn't work out so well, huh?"
For a moment, I thought Eli was gonna just sit there and take it. But in a flash he was on his feet, suddenly much taller than I remembered. I got to my feet as well, ready to square up. However, the moment I stood my rib twinged and the whiskey caused my head to swirl. Before I knew what was going on, Eli’s fist was headed straight for my face.
There was an impact, a realization that I’d been hit, and then darkness.