A Buck Wild Christmas

“Who let these buckle bunnies think they’re tough enough to ride these bulls,” a loud, obnoxious male voice rings out from the crowd. Some boo him, but not enough to drown out the laughs, hoops,  and hollers of those in the crowd that agree with him. I roll my shoulders back, cracking my neck from side to side, trying not to allow my temper to get the best of me.

“I wish the WPRA held topless mechanical bull riding comps. I’m sure everyone here would love to see you topless, Yellowtail. I know I would,” another gross prick yells from the rodeo audience. I swing my arms from side to side because, nope, I’m not going to let them get in my head. My career meant everything. I couldn’t let my rage loose and risk causing a PR nightmare. I’m barely starting to gain my traction back from the three-year hiatus I’d been forced to take from professional bull riding when my mother died, forcing me and my brother to put our dream careers on hold to travel back to our hometown to take care of our younger siblings and our family ranch and business, The Dreamcatcher Bed & Breakfast.

But, when I didn’t think our lives could get any worse, it took a horrific nosedive spiraling out of control like a plane with a deranged pilot, leading us into a turbulent storm of chaos. The bills were piling up, stack-by-stack, and covering every free surface of our home as a reminder that we were drowning in debt. It became an unbearable, annoying reminder every time I had to push a bill away to find a free space to sit, cook, or brainstorm ways to keep our family business afloat. Those big, red, angry termination letters stamped on the envelopes with the pink notices sealed inside constantly taunted me that I was in over my head without my mother. I knew I had to do something that I was actually good at to bring in money because running a bed & breakfast and a cattle ranch were clearly not my calling or in my blood. Almost like the rancher gene mutated into something that caused me to be an adrenaline junkie seeking thrills, I could only find sitting astride a bucking bull.

So, I called up my agent and asked if he could get me into some local circuits. Stepping back into the Rimrock, where most of the rodeo events take place, was like coming home, even if at thirty, people thought I had no business riding bulls, especially as a Native American woman who was nearing retirement age in this sport. Yet, everything was riding on this, and I couldn’t be another letdown in my younger siblings' lives, not like Utah, our older brother who’d failed me and, even worse, them. My mother would be turning over in her grave if she knew how much of a fucking mess Utah and my life have become. She never liked me bull riding, but I have no other choice.

“Catori Yellowtail” rings out loud over the speakers as the announcer yells my name, giving the details of my upcoming competition of the women’s bull-riding event. I was a pretty big damn deal in the national rodeo circuits before taking the hiatus, and now every major media outlet has been covering me this year as the greatest comeback story. It was actually comical because only time would tell if I’d live up to that internet headline. I had quite a few sweeps, winning or placing second, each win or place in the top three equaling a payday I desperately needed. Seeing the money hit my bank account was an instant muscle relaxer, slowly easing the tension from my body that had been wound so tight over the past few years.

Tonight was the last rodeo competition before Christmas, and I had worked tirelessly, paying for the ability to compete in this bull-riding competition with blood, sweat, and tears. I looked up at the scoreboard, realizing seventy-five was the score to beat. Whether by luck or contrivance, I had drawn Outlaw’s Revenge, one of the meanest fuckers in the rodeo. But I was going home with that W. Nothing was standing between me and the prize money. I was going to stay on that bull until the eight-second buzzard sounded.

They didn’t think I’d be able to do it because I’m a girl who stands at only five foot two, making me no match for an over one thousand pound raging beast. I give a smirk because I love being underestimated.  The rodeo clowns and crew are prepping the arena for my ride. I stand behind the chutes, tuning out the hum of the crowd resonating in the cool December breeze, a symphony of anticipation, excitement, and drunken catcalls. I close my eyes, mentally preparing for my moment with Outlaw’s Revenge. I take a deep breath, inhaling my two favorite scents—dust and leather. The distinctive calming scents of the rodeo grounded me in this huge, intimidating arena. After a few more deep, measured breaths, it’s like the rhythmic thumping of my heart syncs with the rodeo music echoing the distant, loud, sped-up beep.

I can’t hear anything above the roaring of my heartbeat, as if I’m in a sound bath. It’s the calm before the storm, the moment when I’m only attuned to the task at hand, making Outlaw’s Revenge my little bitch. I approach the chute. My focus sharpens, my nerves a haphazard adrenaline rush, my boots stirring up the fine dust beneath me. Outlaw’s Revenge, a gorgeous chestnut brown and bronze bull, a mass of raw power and pulsating energy, grunts and shifts restlessly in the narrow confines, aching to burst out and start one hell of a fight. The smell of hay and the bull’s musk intensify, filling my nostrils as I climb onto the metal bars, straddling Outlaw’s Revenge, a bulking beast of a creature that will soon burst into a fury of motion beneath my body. The adrenaline now coursing through my veins, giving me a high better than any strand of marijuana. The thrill of sitting astride a bull creates a shot of dopamine to my head better than any orgasm I’ve had over the past few years. My heart beats hard and fiercely against my breastbone like the pounding of a war drum.

I vigorously rub at the pieces of hair that have fallen from my ponytail, realizing they must’ve come loose earlier when fighting to fasten the black helmet, a vital piece of bull-riding protective gear, to my head. These long, loose black hair strands are now obstructing my vision. I have to swat roughly against my jaw because a piece gets stuck on the sticky pink shimmery gloss on my lips because, of course, being a woman, I’m dolled up before every ride, in the tightest wranglers, a button-down green blouse that compliments my skin tone and clings to my breasts, because sex sells, especially if you’re a woman in a male dominant sport that needs to find ways to draw a crowd out because it’s a fight to get people to keep their asses in the seats during the women’s division of rodeo events. I tighten the rosin on my riding glove, feeling the rough texture beneath my fingertips. I hold the rosin tight in my glove like a hot, sexy lover I don’t want to let go of, which causes my glove to creak slightly from the flexing of my hand. I wound the rope as tight as possible, the knot securing me to the powerhouse beast beneath me.

I hold up my hand, the tension between me and Outlaw’s Revenge rising. He snorts and paws the ground, amping himself up for the impending battle. His anger vibrates off of him, raising the temperature of the chute to sweltering temperatures that have me second-guessing if it’s truly a December snow day. The muscles in my thighs twitch with anticipation, mimicking the restlessness of the beast beneath me, causing me to frantically whisper words of encouragement to myself, being my own hype man, while trapped in a tight space made only of steel bars, that don’t offer nearly enough protection from a beast that can rip me to shreds.

I feel my heart begin to calm, a sign that I am ready for whatever the next eight seconds hold.

Right on cue, my heart rate soars to new heights in a matter of seconds due to the sudden release of the gate, and the world outside blurs, and all that remains is me and the bull as Outlaw’s Revenge explodes into action. The first few moments are always a whirlwind of sheer terror and thrills. Outlaw’s Revenge bucks, jumps, and spins in the air, trying his damnedest to rid himself of me, the parasite on his back.

Ha! Not today, buddy!

My body reacts instinctively to the dance of balance and reaction I’ve practiced relentlessly in the training pen. There are a few times within the eye of the storm when the bull twists and turns beneath me so hard that I have to fight to keep my hand raised and stay poised astride his back, each erratic movement of his a test of my strength and will.

Time stretches and contracts in the rodeo arena. The crowd is a colorful, blurred rainbow as I’m overtaken by a chaotic whirlwind of dust, hooves, and flying mane. I still have some time to go because the eight-second buzzard hasn’t sounded yet. I hold onto the bull for dear life, no longer feeling like a separate being from Outlaw’s Revenge but only an extension of his primal force beneath me. I’ve become a living swinging pendulum in harmony with the wild beast.

My muscles become sore, and my grip is not as firm and strong as earlier. Every last second of the eight-second mark drags by slowly, feeling like a cruel eternity. I see her beautiful jade green eyes, her long braided ponytail that hangs down her back, and the gap between her front teeth, using the image of her to keep me sane on top of the bull that redoubles his efforts to try to unseat me.

Fuck!

My palm slips, and I feel weightless for an instant before gravity takes over and the unforgiving ground rushes up to meet me. The hard impact is always jarring, a collision of flesh and dirt that knocks the wind out of me, leaving me breathless and feeling as if I’ve gone ten rounds with Tyson Fury. I slam the ground hard with my fist from disappointment and hope that I had the longest ride tonight, even if I fell short of that damn buzzard. I quickly roll to my feet and run to safety behind the chutes. I glance at the scoreboard and a score of eighty-five lights up next to my name. My heart grows ten sizes from the sight of my victory.

“Fuck, Yes,” I scream, releasing the first real breath since walking into that rodeo arena. This last win of the year has secured me into the regional championship, but also, it gives me hope I won’t have to sacrifice my younger brother and sisters Christmas in an effort to keep our ranch from being foreclosed, but only time and calculations will tell.

Unfortunately, my happiness is short-lived; as I approach the locker room, ice-cold chills slide down my spine, causing every one of my hairs to stand on edge, as my skin pimples with goosebumps. I profusely blink, hoping that if I blink hard enough and fast enough, the mirage in front of me will disappear. Instead, one of the many regrets from my past confidently strides towards me, his stupidly handsome face marred by an expression of rage.

“My dear husband, what brings you back to Yellowstone River Valley,” I tease, crossing my arms across my chest, trying to look everywhere, except at how hot my biggest foe and the best sex of my life is, even though I haven’t seen him in eleven years, since that drunken night in Vegas when we professed our love and stupidly got married, after I placed second in the PBR and he fucked my brains out.

He grabs me by the arm, my nipples hardening, my clitoris throbbing from the feeling of his strong, warm hand around my upper arm, the heat of his body burning through my long-sleeved button-down.

He pushes me roughly against the wall in the secluded corner he manages to drag me into. His arms above my head, boxing me in, standing over a foot taller than me, his face so close to mine, if I moved my mouth, I’d kiss his beautiful wide pink lips. I bite my tongue, holding back a whimper of wanting to feel his mouth and hands all over my body, even after all these years. My pussy always throbs in a desperate begging plea to let his dick fill her up with a rough, hard, and hate-filled fuck. Where my estranged husband is concerned, my body always wants what my mind never thinks is good for us.

“You were insignificant to me then. I damn sure don’t like you now, so don’t fucking call me your husband, especially not aloud. I tried calling and texting you, but you haven’t answered. I’ve paid a lot of money to keep our marriage under wraps, but the bigger my show becomes on The Food Network, the more people are snooping around, especially since my PR team wants to market me as the hot bachelor chef. This stupid mistake will not ruin my career. We’re getting a fucking divorce, especially since your debt collectors keep calling me. Meet me at the Sagebrush Sip & Saddle Bar; don’t keep me waiting. I had to fly all the way from fucking Los Angeles and cancel my Tulum Christmas plans to sort our shit out,” the gorgeous celebrity chef, Rafael Chevalier, barks at me.

“It sounds like I have more to gain going to TMZ than divorcing you, and like you pointed out, I really need the money. It’s your fault we’re still married, so maybe I’m not quite ready for that divorce until I can see how much I can cash in not only being married to a celebrity now but also cashing in on Yellowstone royalty by being the wifey to the heir of Chevalier Cattle Co. It’s beginning to look like Christmas came early for me with a hefty windfall,” I respond, smiling at him sweetly. A sweet smile as deadly as cyanide where Raf is concerned.

“If only that bull had trampled you. To think I paid a few hundreds for you to draw Outlaw’s Revenge. All my Christmas wishes would’ve been answered. But I see your luck hasn’t run out since you’re still competing in this reckless fucking sport. We need to deal with this shit between us for good. So, don’t keep me fucking waiting tonight, Catori,” Raf whispers loudly against my ear, causing my body to shudder as desire courses through my veins. He's gone as quickly as he arrived. I can still feel the warmth of his touch, and my nostrils are filled with the lingering scent of bergamot and citrus that wafts off his body, causing my nipples to harden.

Great! Now I had to add my jackass husband to my list of shitty things I needed to fix within a week before Christmas. Clearly, I’d been so naughty this year that Santa decided I deserved more than a lump of coal and expedited me, Rafael Chevalier, the equivalent of getting a flaming pile of dog shit delivered to my front porch.

A myriad of emotions course through me.

It starts with an overwhelming feeling of humiliation. The humiliation that’s lived in the darkest place of me and scarred my soul. You see, I loved Rafael before he became hot. In middle school, he was quiet, chubby, and obsessed with cooking and baking. We would have an absolute blast together, trying new recipes and experimenting with flavors. And I found myself in love with Rafael after he danced with me at our eighth-grade school dance. As if we were trapped in an overplayed, cheesy nineties teen comedy, my nerdy, chubby best friend became hot, having his summer glow-up before high school began, leaving me in the dust and only hanging out with me when he could find time away from his hot popular crew which I didn’t belong to. It was a no-brainer junior year that he’d be the one to take my virginity, even if he had sworn me to secrecy about all of our hot hookups, the hottest ones taking place in the storage closet or after hours at this very bar, Sagebrush Sip & Saddle, it was our special hideaway. It was one of the many bars the Chevalier family owned in our little rural community. Hell, the Chevaliers owned everything in Yellowstone River Valley that the eye could see and beyond. Therefore, Raf could always get the keys to this very bar to fuck me in secret. I can’t shake the humiliation of always being Rafael’s dirty little secret, including our sham of a marriage.

For Raf, I’m always something to hide and never to be marveled or shown off to those around him, which makes my blood boil with white-hot rage. It’s funny how quickly a silly crush can turn into what feels like your first and greatest love that easily crosses the line into the territory of hate. I was so excited, hoping I’d prove myself worthy of hearing Raf call me his girlfriend when we were nineteen, and he traveled to Vegas to watch me compete in the PBR world bull riding championship. But I was so very wrong. What went from a joke of an idea of getting married turned into a real deal event, with Elvis walking me down the aisle and all. I could still feel the disappointment of waking up, hungover and confused, lonely in the hotel room with only a diamond ring and the few memories I could recall of our wedding. Adding insult to injury, I received a cold, callous call telling me we were two dumb kids playing around, we didn’t have a real love for one another, and when I got back into town, I needed to stop by Sagebrush Sip & Saddle to sign the divorce papers.

It was never a game to me, even if that were all he ever considered me. But at nineteen, I was tired of being yanked around and wanted to move on and meet someone who actually wanted me. Someone who wouldn’t hide me or act like my body was just a commodity to them. So, I showed up and signed on the dotted line. The next thing I knew, he had up and vanished from Yellowstone River Valley, a nail in the coffin to our almost love story; no more “what could’ve been”, and his disappearance with no goodbye was the finality I needed as closure to move on with my life.

But I saw his stupid, gorgeous face everywhere for a while. A painful reminder of the friend turned asshat enemy that had abandoned me. At first, he started popping up on all those stupid holiday baking competitions my mother loved to watch around this time of the year, and those turned into Iron Chef competitions and wins that jump-started his career into celebrity Chef status. Initially, it didn’t bother me much because I understood his want to live his dream and forget me and his small-town, slow life in Montana. I had my own growing fame as a female bull rider, so for once, I felt like we were finally becoming equals. He wasn’t the “Great Rafael Chevalier'' because I had become great in my own right. However, it felt like salt in an open bleeding wound when his career grew bigger, and the devastation of my mother’s death ended mine. I banned The Food Network from our home. Luckily, we couldn’t afford cable now, making it easier not to have to explain why I never wanted to see Raf’s face again.

Even all these years later, my heart aches for that stupid, foolish young girl.

I sit outside of The Sagebrush Sip & Saddle Bar, drinking bourbon from my old, worn flask--the flask he gave me on my sixteenth birthday. This metal flask wrapped in worn genuine leather had so many exciting memories of us attached to it that I couldn’t bring myself to part with it. While annoyed and frustrated by Raf’s stunt of turning up out of the blue and telling me he’d hoped an angry bull trampled me, my heart was weighed down with grief about way worst realities I was too cowardly to face.

I toss my head back, taking a long swig of the last of the amber, dark liquor in the flask, enjoying the burn down my throat as it set my body ablaze, warming me up on this snowy winter night. I couldn’t even celebrate my last win of the year because after talking with my contact at the bank, we were still six months behind on the mortgage, and it’d be any day now before they’d be knocking on our door, ready to foreclose on the ranch. I close my eyes, nervously running my hands through my hair. A week away from Christmas, I had to figure out how to tell my siblings that even though I began bull riding again, it wasn’t nearly enough. Anytime I tried to form the words or find my voice to tell them that we were going to lose our childhood home, and even worse, there’d be no Christmas gifts, it was like my tongue became heavy and too numb to form the words.

Between paying Utah’s medical bills, his wasted stints in rehab, and how our business waxed and waned after the pandemic, we just didn’t have the funds to celebrate Christmas big like our mother loved to. Our mother loved Christmas, and I couldn’t even keep that part of her memory alive due to the lack of money. I’ve never considered myself a lucky person, but just maybe a Christmas miracle would happen. But who was I kidding? This wasn’t some Hallmark movie. This was the shitty reality that I had to woman up and deal with. However, it’d have to wait until after I dealt with my asshole husband.

I hop out of my old pickup truck, shocked by the biting cold wind of the winter night numbing my face. Not even all the alcohol in my system could keep me warm in this northwest cold front. At least, it’d provide me with the liquid courage needed to deal with Raf’s bull shit. I step into the dimly lit, western saloon-looking bar that our town’s tourists loved, and I’m greeted with rounds of applause and loud cheers for my win. A younger me would’ve loved every second of their praise, but now it just felt empty, shallow, and superficial. The wins, the money, the praise, and the fame couldn’t provide me with the supposed magic of Christmas.

After forcing myself to navigate a few pleasantries with the bar's late-night, last-call crowd, I weave through the warm bodies until I find myself staring at the wooden door of the bar’s storage closet. I swing it open, coming face-to-face with one of my real-life boogie men. A six-foot-four, muscular, insanely sexy boogie man, dressed head to toe in expensive dark jeans and a tight, thin sweater stretched across his bulging chest and poorly hiding all the new ink decorating his beautiful smooth, golden copper skin. My mouth watered at his beauty, and my fingers itched to touch him.

“You took your sweet ass time, Cat,” He states woodenly, his hand curling around my wrist and dragging me into the storage closet, conjuring up memories of simpler, fun times.

“Yeah, well, you’re a real joy to be around. I couldn’t wait to see you again,” I sarcastically respond, wrenching my wrist from his grasp, having to put some space between us because my body was starved for his affection. Within seconds of being in proximity to Raf, my panties were drenching wet, and my clitoris tingled.

I hated this man. So, why did I feel such a strong sexual attraction to him? My nipples became so hard and so erect under my blouse, and my breathing hitched in my throat anytime he turned those bright green eyes in my direction. Those beautiful, angry green eyes burned holes into me where I stood in front of a tall shelf of industrial paper towels. A shelf he’d fucked me against many times, in many ways and many positions in this secret hideaway of ours.

“Sign the damn papers,” Raf coldly states, shoving a manila envelope in my hands. I let out a huff, taking the envelope and slinging it to the floor. Raf gives me a murderous glare, but I’m sick of his fucking bull shit. He gets in my face, turning his nose down at me, and bites out, “I don’t have time for your bitch fits and tantrums, Yellowtail. I flew all the way out here to finish business. Now, sign the damn papers, and we can go back to pretending each other doesn’t exist. Plus, I can’t let your mountain of debt put me in the poor house. I’ve already been kind enough to pay some of your debt collectors. Now, let me be free from you and your sad, pathetic, messy life.”

“You have some fucking nerve coming here and looking down on me for my financial troubles. Is that why we were always secret friends, secret lovers, fucking secret spouses, because I was never rich or shiny enough to be seen on the arm of the heir of Chevalier Cattle Co. turned celebrity? The reason we’re STILL married is your fault. So, don’t come here acting like you have any right to be angry at me. I signed the papers after Vegas; you didn’t actually file them. And you were so busy gallivanting around Los Angeles like some fucking hot shot manwhore that you never even told me. I got investigated by the IRS because of you when there were discrepancies when I filed my taxes, so thanks for that. Plus, you being caught up in my financial issues is on fucking you. I re-filed for divorce and served you the papers five years ago through certified mail, and YOU were the one who never signed them. So, no, I’m not in a rush to sign the fucking papers this time and on your fucking terms,” I scream at him, feeling hot tears spilling from my eyes. I was annoyed, tired, and fed up with everyone’s bullshit.

“Catori, I was busy. I didn’t have time to file or sign both times. I kept telling myself I’d do it tomorrow, and tomorrow turned into months that turned into years. But, now, with my “supposed” bachelor status and my horny housewives fan-based growing my career, I cannot have this marriage coming out and me looking like a cheating asshole because of some of my public hookups with actresses and models; I’ve had over this past decade of us not seeing each other,” Rafael shouts, running his fingers through his hair and pacing across the floor out of agitation.

“I have twenty days from being served these papers to make my decision. So, I think we’re done here. Raf, everyone else may dance to your music, but I don’t. Not anymore. Fuck you, Rafael Chevalier. You can’t just fly in and force my hand in this mess you fucking made. I have a lot of shit going on, plus there’s no prenup, and it sounds like I have you right where I want you. So, maybe I’ll let you sweat a little bit instead of going away quietly, jackass,” I fling at him, scooping up the manila envelope and walking out the door.

The bar is deserted when I make it back out to the front floor. The last of the crowd and even the staff have cleared out. For the first time today, I’m greeted by the much-needed silence to clear my mind. I toss the manila envelope with the divorce papers onto the shiny brown wooden bar top before going behind the bar and grabbing an ice-cold beer bottle. My buzz from the earlier booze started to wear off because of my argument with Raf, and I was in no mood to be sober. I pop the top off with the bottle opener under the bar and take a long drink from the bottle, attempting to drown my fucking sorrows.

Damn, that’s refreshing and just what I needed to wash the terrible taste of having to discuss my past with Raf out of my mouth. I waltz over to the jukebox, fishing around in my back pocket for some loose change. I place a quarter in the machine and select Last Christmas by Wham, hoping Rafael hears it and knows this song is a good ballad to be the theme song for our shitty love story.

I begin singing along loud and obnoxiously at the top of my lungs between chugs of beer. I twerk, twirl, and dance around the bar, trying to get into a better mood before leaving to go home. I stumble a few times over my own feet. Tears run down my face as I bawl from everything I’m dealing with. Once I polish off the first beer, I head to the bar, deciding when I’m ready; I’ll call a rideshare to pick me up. I was going to drink to avoid my problems. Instead of grabbing a second beer, I opt for a bottle of Crown Royal, taking long sips right from the pour spout.

Fuck the Chevaliers, and fuck Raf, most of all.

I fish out a few more quarters from my pocket and choose the next five or so songs. Wham’s Last Christmas begins to play again, bringing a goofy smile to my face. I was going to play that song until Rafael’s ears bled. I had stayed clear of the Sagebrush Sip & Saddle Bar for eleven years. Since the day I signed the first set of divorce papers. I laugh hysterically, giving fate a one-finger salute, thinking about the irony of still being married to this asshat eleven years later and having him serve me another set of divorce papers in exactly the same place.

I wander toward the back of the bar, and that’s when I spot it. The one thing that always brings me solace and a sense of calm. It’s not a real bull, but a mechanical one will do. I don’t know if it’s from all my movement, the anger flooding my veins, or if they have the heat set to the highest setting because of the snowy weather or the latter. All I know is I’m hot as fucking hell, and the liquor is only making me warmer. I dance and sing along to Britney Spear’s rendition of Last Christmas, losing first my boots and socks and, next, my pants on my way to the controls of the mechanical bull. I set it to the lowest setting, not wanting to add to the sky-high pile of endless medical bills with a broken wrist or arm from being thrown from the bull. It was better to be safe than sorry because, with every sip of the Crown Royal, my head was beginning to feel fuzzier and fuzzier.

I climb into the pit where the mechanical bull is located, dancing around the inflatable mats, doing a little drunken sexy strip tease to myself as my shirt, thong, and bra join the rest of my clothes on the floor. Naked as a jaybird, I hop onto the mechanical bull, loving the sensation of the vibrations of that metal vibrating bull between my thighs. I love how free I feel at this moment as the mechanical bull gently rocks and swings me around.

“Catori fucking Yellowtail, what the fuck do you think you’re doing,” a loud, angry, booming voice shouts at me as Raf nears me. He swings his head back, his mouth falling open in shock. Raf’s eyes darken to a beautiful deep forest green that are filled with lust as he drinks in my naked body, gyrating on top of the mechanical bull. He swallows hard, his cheeks flushing, as he stands as still as a statue, lost for words. I throw my head back in laughter, drowning out Britney Spear’s bellowing the words to Wham’s Last Christmas.

“I’m having a good time. Do you want to join for old times' sake,” I answer his angry question. This isn’t my first time naked on this mechanical bull with Raf as an audience. Raf furrows his eyebrows deep in thought, and for a second, as silly as it is, my heart slowly breaks at the thought of him rejecting a sexual advance from me for the first time in my life. I allow a smile to creep back onto my face as he gives me a cocky smirk, knowing even after all these years, I still want a taste and to be loved by him. Raf takes a strip of condoms from his wallet and tosses them into the pit with the mechanical bull. I begin to put on a show for him by running my hands around the front of my body, caressing the mounds of my breasts, pinching and tugging on my sensitive nipples until I moan in pleasure, and nibbling my bottom lip as I rock back and forth on the brown leather saddle on the back of the mechanical bull.

Rafael sucks in a loud audible breath, loudly mumbling, “Always a fucking cock tease, Yellowtail.”

I laugh aloud, enjoying the floorshow he puts on for me. Raf whips his shirt over his head, taking his time to remove his jeans and boxers. Even though during our past hookups, Raf has had a front-row seat to me riding this mechanical bull naked, this would be the first time he’d join me in this filthy fantasy of being fucked on this metal mechanical bull. The gorgeous Raf Chevalier approaches me, stroking his big, thick erection. He is so damn sexy standing in front of me, rubbing himself, his neck, chest, and arms heavily tattooed. I swear his muscles have grown muscles. He’s so fucking jacked that it’s causing me to salivate at the mouth.

“Damn, Cat. You're still so fucking sexy. With those perfect pretty titties and round juicy ass of yours. If I get up there, I’m going to fuck you hard, girl. You’ll be bouncing on my dick, begging me to let you cum, and willing to do whatever the fuck I ask,” Rafael growls at me, working his dick with his fist. Raf doesn’t make a move, just watching and admiring as my tits bounce in a circle while I grind down on the leather saddle of the mechanical bull. His eyes meet mine with a silent plea, begging me to let him know with words that I wanted him to join in on my fun.

Hm, should I let him join or watch him squirm as I play with my wet hot pussy, torturing him with what he’s been missing this past decade?

Even if I want to make Raf miserable, I want his dick more than anything, especially if it means fulfilling my fantasy of giving fucked on this damn mechanical bull.

“Get the fuck over here and let me ride you; I want you to fuck me rough, Raf, “ I drunkenly giggle, watching as he sheaths his big thick hard erection with the condom.

Raf hops on behind me, his warm, tall, muscular, naked frame flush against my small, petite body. He tightly wraps my long dark hair around his fist, yanking my head back and exposing the column of my neck to him. I feel the hot, wet flick of Rafael’s tongue along my neck as a zing to my throbbing clitoris. He licks his way slowly from my neck to the shell of my ear, causing me to shiver and my hot wet needy pussy to clench, aching to be filled with his big thick dick. He kisses his way down from the tip of my ear to the lobe, sucking, nipping, and licking it before peppering my neck with soft kisses until he reaches that sensitive sweet spot, biting down and sucking it until I loudly moan. He lets my hair go, his big, strong hands traveling around my body to cup the fullness of my breasts, pinching and rolling my oh-so-hard and oh-so-erect nipples between his middle and index fingers.

His hands, coupled with the vibrating sensation of the mechanical bull rocking us back and forth and a round and a round in a slow circle, is torturous and unbearable, feeling so fucking good. I grind down on the saddle, enjoying the friction against my swollen, overly sensitive clitoris, as Rafael toys with my nipples. Raf tugs on my left nipple before letting go of it, his hand lazily traveling down until his thumb massages my clitoris. His fingers slip lower, gently scissoring my wet folds, making me toss my head back as a throaty moan of hunger escapes my lips.

“So, fucking horny for me, Cat. Your pussy is drenched and ready to take a ride on my dick, darling,” Raf’s deep baritone voice tickles my ear. Without any warning, Raf’s hands grab me by the waist, lifting me off the bull, and flips me around mid-air before impaling me on the long hard length of his dick.

The pleasurable pain hurts so damn good as he forces his way inside of me, shocking my senses, causing my breath to hitch in my throat.

“Oh, fuck! I feel so fucking full,” I groan out, closing my eyes as I enjoy the delicious way my pussy stretches around Raf’s massive cock as he fills me to the hilt.

“Hold on tight, yellowtail,” Raf demands. I open my eyes, wrapping my arms around his neck. He slaps both of his hands across my ass, grabbing two full hands of ass cheeks as he lifts me up and down on his dick, setting a punishing rhythm as he fucks me.

Damn, I love it when he bucks into me, every single one of his thrusts fueled with every emotion he feels for me. Right now, it’s pure fucking hate and rage from my defiance of not dancing to his music and signing those stupid divorce papers.

He’s dicking me down and dirty, taking his anger out on my pussy with each stroke of his cock.

I fucking love it. I know all the buttons to push to get my husband to fuck my brains out.

I use his shoulders for leverage to meet his hips thrust for thrust, leaning forward and kissing his mouth hard, our tongues tangling in a chaotic dance of power. The movement of the mechanical bull gently rocks my body against Raf’s on every downward motion allowing his dick to massage my g-spot perfectly as my clitoris bumps against his pelvis bone. Every rise and fall of our bodies elicits a groan from my throat as my sopping wet pussy quivers around him.

Breaking our kiss, Raf asks, “You like that? You like it when I pound your pussy?”

“I don’t just like it. I love it. You can fuck me harder than this, can’t you, Chevalier,” I frantically retort as he rucks into me with all his strength, bouncing me on his dick harder and faster, making me dig my nails into his back until I draw blood to keep from falling off the bull as it twirls and bucks us around.

Raf massages and kneads my ass cheeks as I switch up our stride. I swivel my hips from side to side, slowly taking my time rising and falling on his dick; we moan into each other’s mouth’s from the amazing feeling of his dick slowly trailing against what feels like every nerve ending of my hot wet pussy. Raf pulls me harder against his body, thrusting into me hard, fast, and erratically. I allow my hips to chase his, meeting his rhythm, as I feel my orgasm begin to build. I kegel his dick tightly, clamping down on him in a death grip, tossing back my head, screaming my climax at the top of my lungs as ecstasy hits me wave after wave.

Raf grabs my ass cheeks, pushing me back and forth across his hips, before pounding into my pussy a few more times before shouting his own release aloud. I lay slumped against Raf’s shoulder, blitzed out and overcome with emotions as my heartbeat tries to calm down. My body begins to shake, and uncontrollable sobs are wrenched from my body as tears cascade down my face.

“Shh, baby, I promise I’ll take care of you. It’ll be okay. You’ve been drinking, and a lot has happened today. I’ll get you home, Cat,” Raf whispers in my ear, kissing away my tears.

He gently lifts me off his body, my pussy clenching around the emptiness, my clammy body feeling a cold gust of wind from the absence of his hot naked body wrapped around mine. Raf hops off the bull, taking me in his arms as I ugly cry against him.

I feel my body shake with the rage of his promises.

Empty promises that Raf would never fulfill.

Promises he uses as a careless device to comfort me and stop my tears.

Raf wasn’t going to take care of me in the way I needed, nor be my Christmas miracle; he was only another complication.

Especially since I didn’t think I’d survive if he’d walked out of my life again because making love with Raf felt more like coming home than any bull-riding competition or my actual home at the Dreamcatcher Bed & Breakfast.

I’m jolted awake by the loud blaring of an alarm coming from somewhere in the room. I groan into my pillow, my heart racing and my pussy aching from the sexiest dream I’ve had in a while, if not ever. My head feels heavy, sore, and like I’ve had my skull kicked in by a bucking bronco. I toss a pillow over my head, hoping that the sandman will allow me to fall back to sleep and continue to dream about being fucked stupid on a mechanical bull. I snuggle further into my flannel sheets, not wanting to leave the comfort of my bed.

“Mom can handle it,” I murmur to myself. As my eyes flutter shut, I feel a sharp pain in my chest, like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to my heart.

Fuck!

I rip the sheets from my body, peering down at myself, realizing I’m dressed in an oversized foreign shirt that’s not my own. Shit, my dreams were so vivid, but this shirt even smells like him. Rafael’s distinctive comforting scent of bergamot and citrus has this funny power over my body; one whiff of it has my clitoris tingling and my skin feeling heated.

The world tilts and turns under my feet as I stand too quickly. My mouth tastes sour. My stomach churns as I feel the consequences of a night of bad decisions set in. Waves of nausea ripple through me as I feel the bile rise at the back of my throat, a god-awful reminder as to why it’s never a good idea to find solace at the bottom of a bottle.

The reality sets in that my mother isn’t here to handle it. Utah hasn’t been home in weeks, and even if he weren’t somewhere shooting opioids into his veins, he’d be so high off his ass he wouldn’t be able to help me with the kids anyway. The heavy weight of the world falls on my shoulders now. The responsibility of caring for four kids is my burden alone. Unfortunately, I no longer have the luxury of sleeping in late and having sex dreams about a man who’s no good for me.

I snatch my phone off the nightstand, and my heart lurches. Damn, I have less than half an hour to get them fed, dressed, and on the school bus. I launch into panic mode, rushing from my bedroom and screaming all of their names, but no one responds. I rub my throbbing temples between my pointer fingers, trying to ease the horrific pain of nursing a hangover. Hopefully, the twins, being the oldest and juniors in high school, at least helped by getting the two youngest ready for school.

Ha! Who am I kidding?

I wouldn’t hold my breath. Teenagers could be the worst sometimes. But it’s not like it were their responsibility to see after our youngest siblings; it’s mine, and I recklessly didn’t prioritize them when I made my decision to get drunk off my ass last night.

“Tazanna, Tocho, Shaniya, Kayah! Where are you? You only have a few minutes before the bus comes. You all better be dressed and in the kitchen for breakfast,” I yell at the top of my lungs, dodging shoes and dirty laundry in the hallway as I make my way to the kitchen. I freeze a few feet away from the doorway of the kitchen, hearing laughter and excitement, something that’s become an alien sound in this household since my mother died.

The kids were actually happy about something?

Maybe, on one of the rare occasions, Utah had turned up sober and was making them breakfast.

Not wanting to intrude on their joy, having to be the forever bad guy and break up their fun, I slowly pad into the kitchen. My mouth hits the fucking floor when I take in the sight before me. The memories of the night before make me feel lightheaded as they come back to me. This morning's memories weren’t reminiscence of a dream but a reality. In a drunken stupor, I had fucked Rafael Chevalier, my estranged husband, on a fucking mechanical bull in one of his family's bars, Sagebrush Sip & Saddle Bar, our secret hideaway.

Now, he stood before me in our kitchen, serving up the fluffiest-looking waffles, the best-smelling bacon, and making my mouth water with his sexy muscle-toned tattooed abdomen on display. I looked around the kitchen in amazement. Tocho, my younger brother and one of the twins, grins from ear to ear, hanging on to every word about the L.A. Lakers Raf shares with him as they bicker over player stats. My thirteen-year-old sister Shaniya sits timidly and acts coy as she silently eats her breakfast. Tazanna, my pain in the ass sixteen-year-old sister and Tocho’s twin, gives Raf heart eyes and secretly records him in our kitchen as he helps Kayah, the youngest and ten years old, cut her waffle into tiny pieces so she can eat it easier. Watching Raf with Kayah feels like a heavy boulder has fallen into the pit of my stomach, breaking me from my trance and pushing me into action.

“Taz, fucking delete that video now, or I’ll take your phone,” I snap over her shoulder, startling her.

She pouts, huffing at me and protesting, “B-b-but it’s Rafael Chevalier in our house! He’s a celebrity! It’s not every day we have a famous guest at the Dreamcatcher who gets turned around and ends up in our kitchen.” Ignoring her protest, I angrily snatch the phone from her hands, deleting the video.

“Yes, this is fucking dope. He let me take a picture with him. All my friends are going to be jealous. Rafael Chevalier fixed us breakfast. He’s a legend at our high school,” Tocho pipes with the biggest grin on his face. A smile I hadn’t seen in years. It disappeared after Utah’s accident, and I never thought he’d smile again when our big brother, whom Tocho hero-worshipped, chose his addiction over us. I give him a smile back, ignoring Rafael’s burning gaze on the back of my neck, tugging at an invisible string of sexual desire connected to my nipples and my clit. I cross my arms over my chest to hide my rock-hard nipples and ignore the wetness pooling between my thighs. Rafael is the only man on this planet whose presence gets me hot, horny, and bothered.

I glance down at my phone, and there are only fifteen minutes left for them to get to the bus stop, or they’ll be late for school.

“Tocho and Taz, you have ten minutes before the bus comes for you all. I need your help getting Kayah to our neighbors for the carpool and Shaniya. I’m sure Lydia is already in the driveway waiting for you to catch a ride,” I announce. My words elicit annoyed groans and huffs as they disperse from the kitchen, saying their goodbyes to Raf. I begin cleaning up their half-eaten plates, waiting for the sound of the last footsteps and the final slam of the front door before I unleash my anger on Rafael.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Did you spend the night? I can’t have you walking around half fucking naked with two teen girls in the house,” I shout at him, his eyes narrowing into furious slits as I toss plates and cutlery into the sink. Raf stalks toward me, invading my personal space, trying to intimidate me, but I don’t back down, turning my heated glare in his direction. The air between us hangs heavy and suffocating with a tension that seems to transcend time.

“I’m sure you can’t recall Cat, but I brought your drunk ass home. How about ‘thanks, Raf, for making sure I got home safe’ and a ‘thank you so much, Raf, for making sure my brother and sisters were fed and ready for the day,’” He retorts, the fury in his eyes turning to lust as his eyes drop to my hard erect nipples on full display in, apparently, his shirt. The temperature in the kitchen skyrockets as the sexual energy crackles in the room around us.

Whoever said there’s a thin line between love and hate didn’t tell a lie.

He hauls me to his body, lifting me off the ground by the waist before slamming his mouth to mine in a lust-filled, passionate kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck, his hands traveling to grab my ass, sitting me on top of the kitchen counter. I spread my legs wide, encircling him between my thighs, hooking my legs around his waist, pulling him so close to my body that no one would be able to tell where my body begins and his ends. The kitchen's ambiance became a blend of desire and defiance as we fought to dominate each other with our entangled mouths. It was as if an irresistible force was pulling us together, despite the feeling of confusion that whirled in my heart or the multitude of emotional wreckage surrounding our brittle connection to one another.

Rafael held my head in place by the nape of my neck, delving his tongue past my lips, kissing me like a long-lost lover who had finally found his way home to me. We made out like two hormonal teenagers behind the bleachers. There’s a magnetic pull between us. It’s energy fueled by an undeniable chemistry that always drew us back to one another, no matter how many miles we put between us or the nameless partners we bedded. We had an undeniable chemistry that refused to be extinguished; not even distance dampened the attraction we felt for each other.

With every touch of our lips, every strand of hair he fisted, every nip to his lip I made, it was as if each desire-filled caress was our way of attempting to erase the scars of our shared traumatic history. Raf deepened our kiss, kissing me like a man possessed, trying to make me surrender and bend to his will and request to dominate my body. The taste of Raf on my lips was bittersweet, a blend of forbidden desires and future regrets. Raf broke our kiss, his eyes boring into mine, unguarded and a window of his soul of unspoken words and emotions he’d never willingly share with me. This one love-hate-filled look made my body feverishly crave his dick like I might die if he didn’t fuck me at this moment.

Raf drags his shirt over my head, my nipples growing harder and more erect under his gaze. He buries his face in the valley of my tits, licking the tops of them and nipping and sucking my nipples into his mouth until I’m delirious. He drags his tongue down my tummy, holding my thighs wide as he gets down on his knees in front of me, his beautiful green eyes captivating me, making everything around us cease to exist and melt away in this moment.

“I’m starving, Catori, and I can’t wait to eat your pussy for breakfast,” Raf states, his hot breath whispering across my clitoris, causing me to moan aloud as if he’d touched it. He licks me from root to tip, suckling the aching nub between my thighs into his mouth as he stretches my pussy with two of his fingers. He swirls his tongue around the clit while finger fucking me in a delicious come hither motion that has me panting, writhing, and flinging my head back, only able to hyperfocus on the pleasure he’s bringing my body. I place my hand against the back of his head, burying his face deeper into my pussy, loving the sensation he creates when he groans around my clitoris, sending a shiver down my spine. He laps at my pussy juices, slurping up my desire as I grow wetter and wetter from his phenomenally skillful tongue and fingers.

I feel my orgasm building, my pussy clenching around his fingers, but before I can get there, Raf pulls away, leaving me teeter on the precipice of pleasure. Quickly, he unsnaps and pulls down his jeans, freeing his big, thick erection that’s a deep shade of red, hard and ready to sink balls deep into my pussy. I wrap my legs around his waist as he rips open the foil of a condom from his back pocket. I use my feet to push his hips toward me, letting out a hiss from between clenched teeth at how amazing just the tip of his dick feels at the entrance of my hot wet needy pussy.

“You’re my needy little dirty girl, aren’t you, cat? Willing to do anything to feel my dick inside of you,” Raf teases, placing a small distance between us to quickly roll the condom onto his dick that twitches in his hand. He grabs me hard by the throat, taking my right hip roughly into his grasp as he slides his dick into me hard, eliciting a moan from my mouth. I feel so fucking full and satisfied as my pussy strangles his dick.

In unison, we both let out a loud sigh of ecstasy. Raf’s hand tightens around my neck, lightly placing pressure on the outer side of my throat, gently choking me, forcing me to look into his eyes as he pounds into my pussy hard and fast. The only sounds in the room are our moans and grunts of pleasure, flesh slapping against flesh, and the rattling of kitchen drawers as he fucks me deep and thoroughly.

“You love the way I fuck you, Cat. You can’t get enough of my dick. No one can fuck you the way I can. I want to hear you say it,” Rafael grunts, removing his hand from my hip and lifting my right leg onto his shoulder, slightly swiveling my body to the side so I can feel his dick deeper. He’s so fucking deep it’s like I can feel him in my stomach, and I fucking love the pleasurable pain of his dick tapping my cervix.

“Fuck you,” I respond, unwilling to give him the answer he wants to hear. His hand tightens slightly on my throat, and his pace slows down as he drags his dick tauntingly out of me, teasing my hole, only making shallow strokes at the entrance driving me insane.

“Say it, Cat. Or I won’t let you cum. Only good girls get rewarded,” Raf says, pinning me in place with his hand on my throat and leg, rendering me in a submissive position as he leisurely fucks in and out of me. Slamming into me hard and withdrawing slowly, he does this repeatedly, causing me to sweat and slowly breaking my resolve. My pussy aches, and I can’t reach my clitoris to bring myself to orgasm without him.

Fuck.

“I want your dick, Raf. No one fucks me like you do. I love your dick, asshat,” I scream at him, frustrated. He gives me a smirk. Raf withdraws completely, my pussy clenching around emptiness. He lets go of my throat and demands, “Roll onto your back.”

Without hesitation, I roll onto my back, the cool granite of the kitchen counter feeling amazing against my clammy, flushed skin. Raf drags my ass to the edge of the counter, slapping it before placing both ankles on his shoulder. He repositions his dick at my entrance and slams into me, making me yelp at the way his massive cock stretches my pussy wide, bucking into me. I arch my back when his thumb begins to circle my clitoris, which is beating in tandem with my heart. He swirls my wetness around it before slapping it. I yelp from the pain, my body catching on fire before I’m hit with the aftermath of pleasure as it tingles from his touch. He strokes my overly sensitive clit before slapping it again, making me moan in pleasure, my pussy squeezing around his dick. He does this repeatedly until I’m screaming his name and the top of my lungs, begging him to make me cum. He begins to rub my clit faster with two fingers back and forth in a windshield-wiper motion as he fucks me harder and faster.

My orgasm quickly builds, my breathing becoming erratic and short pants. I begin to tug on my nipples as my titties bounce up and down with every one of Raf’s hard thrusts into my pussy. My orgasm tears through me, shattering me into pieces as I grunt out inherent words and sing high notes of ecstasy like I’m competing with Ariana Grande.

“I love watching you cum, baby. You’re fucking beautiful,” Raf mutters. I barely hear his praise as I float out of my body, as he fucks into me hard until he’s holding me in place as he grunts out his own climax. Raf folds me in half, his dick still buried deep inside of him and my legs on his shoulder as we both catch our breath.

After a couple of moments, when the afterglow evaporates, I open my eyes and begin to come to my senses. I push hard against Rafael’s body, and he slides his dick out of me, his face flush with two red marks slashed across his cheeks as his eyes connect with my swollen pussy, enjoying the view of a mixture of our sexual release oozing out of me. I sit up quickly, sliding off the kitchen counter and bumping past him so hard that he lets out a loud oomph, practically tripping on his jeans around his ankle.

I find his shirt, slipping it quickly over my head, hating him but myself even more for losing all control and misplacing my brain cells any time he comes into contact with me. Allowing his stupidly handsome face and talented monster dick to control me, each uncontrollable stolen moment of passion between us becoming a rebellion against the walls I’ve built around my heart as a defense against the Rafael Chevalier charm. Gaining composure, I turn to face him, watching him pull up his jeans; he eyes me smugly, making my blood boil.

I open my mouth to rip him a new asshole, but his words stop me in my tracks when he questions, “How come you didn’t tell me your mother died or call me when Utah had his accident and broke his back while trying to break in a new horse?”

Damn it!

I really needed to have a conversation with my brother and sisters about not oversharing our family business. My back goes ramrod straight, every muscle of my body tensing under Rafael’s stare. Rafael has always taken frenemy to a new level, so I try to size him up, yet, the only time I can read his emotions is when his dick is buried inside of me, and he’s too blitzed out from pleasure to guard his expression. But now, resuming our stand-off in the kitchen, he has his guard up like a chess grandmaster, anticipating my every move and countering with strategic precision. I can’t give him more ammunition for manipulation than he already has.

“What would it have mattered? All roads would’ve ended here with me working tirelessly to keep everything afloat. You’ve never been a white knight, so don’t act like you would’ve left your newfound fame and orgies with bimbos to fly back here to bumfuck nowhere to help me raise four kids and pay bills,” I exclaim, calling him out on his bullshit, not giving him the opportunity to lure me into a false sense of security.

“Dios Mio, Catori. You think I’m that shallow and heartless,” Raf bellows, slamming his fist on the counter, startling me, and causing me to practically jump out of my skin. Rafael was Mexican and French and slipped between both languages only when he allowed his anger to get the best of him. He was extremely pissed at this moment, his golden copper tone turning an angry red like a Chile pepper.

“Rafael, you don’t even come into town to visit your own mother and father. You ran away from your responsibilities at the first opportunity, leaving them for your younger brothers to figure out. Your track record is proof enough. You’re not dependable,” I respond, rubbing the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginning of a tension headache.

“I saw the piles of unpaid bills and late notices. I’ve received calls from the creditors. You haven’t told me, but it has to be really bad if you’re willing to get back on a bull and risk your life with your siblings depending on you. I can help you if you let me,” Rafael says, making my stomach burn with unease at his statement.

“What? You’ll help me out of debt in return for the divorce,” I ask skeptically as the knot in my stomach tightens.

A smirk crosses Raf’s beautiful face as he shrugs and says, “As a start. I may want more, but we can discuss the terms and conditions once you let me know your decision and if you want my help.”

That’s the thing about Rafael Chevalier, all of them, in fact. They were notorious for holding favors over people’s heads. That’s how they had such a powerful name in our town and were admired as astute and hostile businesspeople. You don’t make that much money by being fair in your business dealings.

But I was tired and desperate.

Raf was the predator, and I was his prey. I’m boxed in the corner. Destitute and in need of a Christmas miracle to save our home and family business and not allow this to be a depressing holiday because of our financial hardships. The kids had been through a lot already, but I didn’t know if I could trust Rafael. He’d always let me down in the past.

Hope was truly eternal because a piece of me wanted Raf to be the real deal. However, this was uncharted territory, a different Raf than the one I used to know, and I didn’t know if he’d become a better or worse man.

I saw each one of my siblings' faces in my head as I weighed my options.

Would his ability and means to help me out of this dire situation be enough for me to willingly get in bed with Rafael without fully understanding or knowing the fine print of this bargain with this handsome devil?

Every part of my body squeals in pain, begging me to soak it in a nice hot bubble bath. I was really off my game during today’s bull riding practice sessions. I wince from my muscles protesting as I rub my thighs together, thinking about Rafael fucking me hard on the kitchen counter this morning after the kids left for school. Even though, anytime Raf comes near me, my sex-fevered brain wants me to leap on his dick, the memories of the amazing way in which he fucks me isn’t what had me not bringing my A game to bull riding practice nor causing me to be clumsy during my chores around the Dreamcatcher Bed and Breakfast and the ranch. It was his words of offering to help me out of my financial troubles. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, my heart fluttered and blossomed from the idea of being able to deliver a Yellowtail-worthy Christmas to my younger siblings to keep our Christmas traditions alive and to be able to save my mother’s legacy and our home.

I walk slowly toward the house, thinking about all the difficult conversations and heartache Raf would be saving me from if I agreed to his proposal. I stood outside the front door of our home with my head against it, my mind in turmoil over this hard decision. If I allowed Raf to help me out of this mess, I wouldn’t have to lay off what little staff we had left, sending them into unemployment right after the holidays. I didn’t want to be that heartless asshole, especially with how much help they’d all been rallying around us after my mother died and Utah’s accident. If only it weren’t my estranged husband, Rafael Chevalier, offering to help me because the decision would be a no-brainer and a true Christmas miracle. Unfortunately, my stomach sank at the thought of signing over any part of my life to a man with the temperament of a wildcard who proudly wore the Chevalier's last name.

“I need you, mama. I miss you so much. As usual, I need you to clean up my messes. You’re the woman with all the answers,” I whisper sadly to myself, my heart lurching and the pit of my stomach doing backflips from the heavy cloud of grief I felt. I desperately needed my mother to help me make this decision. Sometimes, selfishly, I harbored anger toward her for getting cancer and dying, but I knew that was silly. She had no control of her prognosis, nor did she want to leave us so soon. I quickly brushed the hot tears from my cheeks, straightened my shoulders, and put on a brave face as I walked into our home.

As I unlock the front door, the weight of the day’s stress clings to my shoulders, burdening me like a scorned lover. However, our home's warmth and familiar scents feel like a well-worn blanket swallowing me up and offering me the comfort I could no longer seek out from my mother. The further I walked into our home, heading toward the kitchen, the smell of chicken and dumplings wafted through the air, causing my heart to swell with joy at the familiar and delicious aroma of my favorite comfort food that instantly captivated my senses.

He remembered.

He remembered and had made my favorite comfort food to come home to after a long, stressful day of juggling my bull riding career and the ranch. Moments like this make it hard for me to remember why I absolutely despised Rafael Chevalier. The promise of my favorite home-cooked meal has the tension in my body beginning to dissipate. Opening the door to the kitchen, the rich aroma—a harmonious blend of herbs, spices, and the unmistakable fragrance of dumplings has my stomach growling in savory anticipation. This scent held happy memories of better times and, most importantly, a promise of nourishment not just for my aching, starving body but for my tattered soul that needed comfort.

I walk over to the pot simmering on low heat on the stove and scoop myself a big bowl of it. As I turn to grab a spoon from the drawer, I stop in my tracks. Feelings of uncertainty, guilt, and warm fuzziness attack my heart. Rafael sits at the kitchen table with Shaniya and Kayah, helping and supervising them with their homework. Something I’d had failed to do over this past year because I’d been caught up in bull riding and our crippling debt that seemed to double by the second. I’d been a shitty surrogate mother, but it’s as if Raf were a natural at it. It had always frustrated me to no end that it seemed like the Great Rafael Chevalier was a natural at fucking everything. As grateful as I am for Raf’s help with the kids, his incredible culinary skills, and his thoughtfulness, I still wanted him out of my home and out of my life. He was my own personal menace, and his dick was my kryptonite. I didn’t need another reminder of our conversation this morning looming over my head. Had the man not gone home to see his parents? What the fuck was Rafael hiding out from, and why was he insistent on doing it here, taking up my personal space, and intruding on what little solace I could find in my childhood home?

Kayah gives Rafael a big gap-tooth smile, her long braided ponytail swinging over her shoulder as she shows him her homework. It made me feel even more unsettled how Kayah and Raf gravitated to each other, how attached, within these short few hours, my younger siblings were getting to Raf. It was almost like everyone got weak in the knees and suffered from the paralysis of his charisma, that damn Rafael Chevalier charm I could never keep myself from falling victim to. Feeling my lengthy gaze on him, Raf lifts his head, turning his beautiful smile and bright green eyes in my direction, making my panties melt right off my body. For a moment extended in time, we simply stare at one another, stirring up shared thoughts of what could’ve been. It’s like I’ve been transported to a different life, had we stumbled down the path we deviated from after our marriage in Vegas. The path had we made the decision to take the blue pill, a cozy life where Rafael helped our kids with their homework and cooked dinner, and I came home from a hard day of training. Something we sometimes discussed in the aftermath of our having sex, what I once stupidly allowed myself to believe were dreams we shared after we’d made love with each other.

We both open our mouths to speak, but the slamming of the front door and the loud, obnoxious giggles of a teen girl break us out of our surreal world, catapulting us back to a reality of the unsettling truths of the messy state of our current lives. Taz stumbles into the kitchen, her eyes bloodshot and looking high and drunk off her ass. My suspicions are confirmed when she comes toward me, eating right out of the pot on the stove, standing so close to me that the strong scents of weed and cheap vodka fill my nostrils.

“Someone has the munchies,” Shaniya snickers causing my temples to throb from stress because if it’s not one fucking thing, it’s another. I begrudgingly sit my bowl of chicken and dumplings down on the counter, and without even having to ask, Raf leads Shaniya and Kayah out of the kitchen to the living room. Tazanna, oblivious to the world around her, as if she’s the poster child for the self-absorbed teenager persona, continues to eat out of the pot as if no one around her exists.

“Fucking really Tazanna? You’re drinking, doing fucking drugs, skipping school. You’re about to be seventeen. I need you and Tocho’s help around here. I can’t have you being a fuck up,” I shout angrily.

“Ha! Takes one to know one. I’m sorry, weren’t you and Mom not on speaking terms before she got her cancer diagnosis? I remember her always mumbling and saying prayers under her breath for you because you were so destructive. So, you’re one to talk,” Tazanna fires back, her low blow knocking the wind out of me, feeling me with guilt and sorrow over the unsaid apologies and appreciation I never got to express to our mother.

“Taz, you’re right. I was and am a fuck up. A big disappointment. But, be better than me. And definitely be better than Utah. Addiction is a hereditary illness that runs deep in our family. It’ll be recreational to you until you’re dependent on it, and it’s ruling your life like Utah and opioids. I don’t want that for you. Utah wouldn’t. Our mother wanted more for all of you, all of us. She’d be disappointed if she saw you like this, a fucking mess. If you want out of Yellowstone, then getting drunk and partying isn’t the way to leave,” I shout at Tazanna’s back. The mention of Utah and our mother gets her attention, almost as if they have a sobering ability on her. Tazanna drops the ladle back into the soup with a loud splash before turning around to face me, towering over me by three inches.

“Utah is sick. He’s not a fuck up like you. He was the golden boy of the Yellowtail family before his accident. And the worst part of him being addicted to opioids is him leaving us with your sorry ass. I’d rather have a high Utah rambling around this house than a sober you doing a shitty job as our guardian. Don’t ever fucking speak for mom. You’re the last person to know what she wanted other than for you not to be a fuck up. You’re not mama. And thank god, you’re not any of ours. Trust me, I’m getting out of here if it means getting away from you, Catori,” Taz retorts, bumping past me hard and leaving the kitchen. Her words stab me painfully, like the death of a thousand cuts, leaving deep bleeding slashes that’ll never fully heal. I let out a slow, deep breath, my eyes blurring with unshed tears, her insults holding many unavoidable truths that echo through my mind like a haunting of my past poor decisions, a constant reminder of my perceived inadequacies.

I’m startled by the heavy, soothing weight of a strong palm on my back, dragging me into his body to comfort me, cocooning me in the unforgettable calming scents of citrus and bergamot. I hold onto Raf for dear life, pretending we're twelve again, and he’s making me my first bowl of chicken and dumplings, a recipe that he spent days mastering to impress his best friend. I close my eyes, thinking about the best friend I once fell in love with so many years ago.

“You’re better at looking after them in less than twenty-four hours than I have been these past few years. You’re a damn natural, Raf,” I wail into his chest, feeling a sharp slow stab to the chest.

“Taz is being an asshole teen. When she wakes up and sobers in the morning, I’m sure she’ll feel like shit for what she said to you. Also, don’t forget I’m a big brother and a shitty one at that. It just seems effortless because they’re star-struck, and I’m a fun celebrity guest, not a parental figure having to discipline and be the bad cop,” Raf says, gently kissing the top of my head.

That’s the thing about Rafael Chevalier. He had a way of worming his way into my psyche when I felt like I hit rock bottom, making me forget that he wasn’t the good guy, that he was a formidable foe. But being in his arms, being touched, being comforted, and being kissed by Raf was a privilege I wanted to relax into.

“I’m fucking miserable, Raf. I’m a terrible parent, and I’m failing terribly at saving the ranch. In the short period of time that my mother has passed on, I’ve practically lost the ranch, and I can’t even afford Christmas,” I softly blurt aloud, not even caring if Rafael were saving this information to his arsenal of manipulation tactics.

I was tired and at my wit's end. I needed help, and maybe Raf was that Christmas miracle that would keep us from being homeless in just a matter of months. I pull out of his arms, grab his hand, and lead him into my bedroom for some privacy. I think I had finally made my choice because, without Raf, I’d be letting down my siblings and giving them all the more reasons to hate my guts if I couldn’t deliver on Christmas and eventually lost the only home they ever knew, the one our mother worked herself to the bone to have to pass down to us.

“How can you help me, Rafael,” I begrudgingly ask, crossing my arms over my chest. In my dimly lit bedroom, I see a look of surprise and concern cross his stupidly handsome face.

“Sell me the Dreamcatcher Bed & Breakfast,” Rafael woodenly states. My head begins to spin as I erupt in hysterical laughter. I am such a fucking idiot. This was probably his plan all alone. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Rafael and his entire family were fucking snakes. His father had wanted my mother’s land for decades, and now Raf was coming in thinking that my stupid crush and false hopes of being loved by him would have me eager to please and hand over the keys to the Yellowtail family business.

“Wow, are you fucking serious? I have to give it to you. I underestimated you and how fucking low you would sink to get back into Daddy Chevalier’s good graces,” I seethe, biting out each word through clenched teeth.

Raf’s entire body goes still, his pupils becoming angry pinpricks, and it seems as if he’s not even breathing. His entire face turns red with rage before he responds, “Fuck my father. This isn’t about him and his business vendettas. I want to help you. I’ll buy the ranch from you, and we can be co-owners, and I’ll be a silent partner, the financier, until you can get on your feet and buy me out.”

I stare into his beautiful, furious, deep green eyes, but he’s stoic and gives nothing away. My heartbeat accelerated, every fiber of my being screaming at me that this offer was too good to leave on the table but also too good to be true. Yet, I couldn’t escape the crushing reality of our debt. There was no way I could get the payments caught up in the small window of time I had before we were kicked out of our home and the Dreamcatcher shut down for good. Then, his father would be able to get my mother’s land and business without having to worry about a big fight. Therefore, with time on his father’s side, there wasn’t a need for Rafael to play the middleman in his father’s business dealings. Maybe Rafael truly wanted to help me and my family.

I rub my temples before stating, “I have a few of my own conditions, which aren’t negotiable. One, if I sell the Dreamcatcher and ranch to you, then it has to be with money from your celebrity chef business. I want Chevalier Cattle Co. to have no power or ties to this business. Two, you’ll make sure my younger siblings have an amazing Christmas, and three, you’ll pay for Utah to go to one of those fancy rehab places we could never afford and find the best treatment center to get him clean.”

Without hesitation, Rafael looks at me dead in the eyes, eyes filled with many promises that make my heart threaten to beat out of my chest, and says, “Deal. The third one, I’ll fund. But the rest is up to Utah.”

I launch myself on top of Rafael’s body, knocking him onto the floor of my bedroom and peppering his face with kisses. Our lips met in a slow, deliberate dance, the weight of the day’s burdens began to lift from my shoulders, and for the first time since receiving the first termination notice, I felt like I was free of the shackles of financial hardship. His caress down my spine, his hand anchoring my body on top of his, felt like a lifeline, a reassurance that in my labyrinth of the uncertainties of our relationship, there existed in some part of him, at least a small piece of love for me. A small part that allowed me to seek a safe haven in him that would help eclipse all my worries.

The rhythm of our kisses spoke the secret uncrackable language that we once shared with each other. One of trust, caring, and infallible love for one another, even if we both refused to acknowledge it. In the soft glow of my dimly lit bedroom, tangled in the warmth of Rafael’s strong muscular arms, I felt resilient, untouchable even, the world around us fading away, leaving only the gentle cadence of our shared audible pants as we kissed each other breathless.

“Take what you need from me, Cat,” Rafael whispered between our kisses. I gave him a hard, passionate, bruising kiss, pulling away from him just long enough for us to discard our clothing. I kneeled on top of him, running his dick through my slick folds before slowly sinking down onto every delicious inch of his massive manhood.  I rocked my hips back and forward, eliciting a moan from both of our lips before setting the pace and riding him hard like a seasoned cowgirl, determined to claim her untamed cowboy.

I use his body as a much-needed stress reliever, choosing not to worry about the one complication that would stand between me and Rafael’s plan.

Utah never liked Rafael Chevalier, and even if he were flying high as a fucking kite and in the worst throes of his addiction, he would never agree to sell our property to a Chevalier. Utah and I were only two years apart, and for a while, it was just him and me against the world until the twins showed up. After fourteen years of it just being him, me, and our mother after our father died. We were as thick as thieves, especially during high school. Hence, he had a front-row seat to the tumultuous relationship between Raf and me. I can’t even blame him for hating Raf; he was my overprotective older brother, and he couldn’t even protect me from the chaos and catastrophic heartache Raf left me in after disappearing without a word to Los Angeles.

I had failed Utah just as much as he had failed me and our siblings. How could I have missed all the signs that he was becoming reliant and a victim of his painkillers? Utah had already been in a depressive state, having to leave his career as a hotshot New York attorney to move back to bumfuck nowhere to care for his five siblings, the death of our mother hit him the hardest. Then he broke his back, unable to walk, and left feeling like a burden on us when we were barely keeping everything together. His reality was enough to drive a saint to sin and find comfort in anything that eased the physical pain and mental anguish he suffered.

However, I was determined to make our family whole again, even if it would take embracing the sinister whispers of temptation, entering into an unholy alliance, and dancing with the devil himself in the hottest ring of hell. I fiddled with my diamond engagement ring in my hand. I hadn’t worn it in years, but I couldn’t bring myself to part with it. Even with the mountains of bills and the endless calls from debt collectors, it was as if it grounded me, making it hard for me to trade it in for fast cash at a pawn shop.

My heart aches thinking about how I used it as a bartering chip to get Utah to even agree to a meeting with me after tracking him down. He had come around less and less since the money had dried up, and we weren’t of use for him to get to his next fix; he valued more than life itself. My heart rate soared, beating so fiercely against my chest that I thought I’d go into cardiac arrest when Utah walked through the door to our kitchen.

I come face to face with a stranger. Utah is practically unrecognizable. His appearance bore the heavy weight of a tremendous loss of a hard-fought battle waged against the most broken parts of himself. When he walked into a room, he used to have an arrogant, proud, confident presence. Now, he held himself with shoulders slumped in shame, and a person so downtrodden they had lost their will to live. Utah’s once vibrant chocolate-brown eyes, now dull and lifeless, mirror a soul ensnared by the merciless grip of opioids. The hollow contours of his face and sunken eyes spoke volumes about the toll exacted by a relentless addiction. His smooth, flawless, tawny skin, once a canvas of vitality, now clung to bone, a pallid reminder of his body consumed by his drug dependency. Many envied Utah as a handsome man, but that was no longer his reality. Deep lines etched into his complexion told stories of sleepless nights haunted by the specters of cravings and withdrawals.

As Utah approached the kitchen table where I sit, his movements were slow, his breathing labored, and his skin pale and sweaty, each step a testament to his exhaustion from being in a loveless, abusive relationship with opioids. The disheveled state of his attire and the distant look in his eyes painted a heartbreaking portrait of a man entrapped in a vicious cycle, a prisoner of substances that had stolen not only his health but the very essence of his being.

Utah doesn’t sit or get too close, his body shaking like a leaf. He holds out an open palm toward me and asks, “Give me the ring like you promised. I have a guy waiting for it at the pawn shop. I’m desperate. Look, Catori, if I just get this one last fix, I’ll work toward staying clean next time.”

There was always just one last fix. I’ll get clean tomorrow because tomorrow is always a day away. I only do it sometimes, or I can quit when I want. Yet, the knowledge that these were constant needless lies didn’t stop my heart from cracking into two for him and wanting so desperately to believe his words. His fingers, once nimble, now trembled under the weight of a ceaseless craving, and his arms were littered with angry purplish-red bruised track marks.

“You’ll get it. I just need you to sign these documents. We’re in trouble, and we’re going to lose the ranch. Since Mama willed the house and business to the both of us, I can’t do anything without your blessing. It’s almost Christmas, and the kids don’t need any more bullshit to deal with. So, I’ll give you the ring once you sign the documents,” I explain, clutching my diamond engagement ring in one hand and shoving the sales agreement into his shaky, grimy hands with the other. Utah’s dull, soulless eyes slant at me in fury, his body shaking with more rage as he skims through the legal document before tossing it back on the table, shaking his head.

“You’re still so damn stupid, Catori. You’re going to sell our land to fucking Chevalier. Do you really think that family gives a damn about you, even as their son’s wife? Look, I’ll figure some shit out that doesn’t give those fucking snakes ownership over us. Give me the fucking ring, and I’ll see if I can hawk it for enough to catch us up in payments, and I won’t spend it all on drugs, I promise. I’m your big bro. I’ll get us out of this mess,” Utah yells, his frail frame invading my space, his spittle flying across my face. I close my eyes, wishing I could trust his words. But he was an addict. We fell behind because he was shooting our bill money into his veins. There’s no way in hell that we wouldn't be homeless after the New Year's countdown celebration if I handed over this ring without his signature on the purchase agreement. Trusting Utah, an addict would be like trusting a fragile bridge made of matchsticks – the crossing seems tempting, but the collapse is inevitable, leaving nothing but shattered expectations.

“Utah, I can’t wait for you to figure something out or try to fence the ring for the best price. We’re in deep shit. This is our best option. Sign the paperwork, and I’ll give you the ring,” I repeat, shocking myself with the strength of my voice and the confidence of my words—a façade I wore so bravely with him when really I was on the verge of tears.

Utah catches me off guard, lunging toward me, causing me to screech from shock and pain as he holds me tightly by the forearms, shaking me. Utah had never put his hands on me before, but this was no longer the Utah I knew. He had been body snatched by his opioid addiction, and in his place was a rabid man that didn’t give a fuck about the destruction he caused as long as nothing stood between him and his need for a fix.

“He’s not going to fucking love you. Stop whoring yourself out and looking like a dumbass for a man that doesn’t give a fuck about you or this family. Give me the fucking ring. Where is it, Catori? Where is it,” he shouts so close to my face that I smell the souring scent of his rotten breath.

“You’re hurting me,” I yell, trying to wrench myself free of his grasp. Utah tosses me to the ground, my head hitting the kitchen tile with a loud smack. I see black splotches and silvery floaters as my vision becomes blurry. My head throbs with pain, and I hear ringing in my ears. Tears stream down my face, and my heart beats hard against my chest as we struggle and tussle on the kitchen floor.

Utah lifts a fist in the air, and I turn my face, clenching my eyes tightly, but the pain of the brutal blow never comes. I wait a few seconds before I open my eyes and see Rafael slam his fist hard into Utah’s face. Raf pulls Utah off the ground from where he pushed him and forcefully marches him toward the kitchen door.

“Wait,” I rasp, finding my voice as I scramble to my feet. Both men stop scrapping near the door, and their heads swivel in my direction.  I hold up the diamond engagement ring, and both men’s eyes go wide with surprise, but for different reasons, I assume. Utah takes a step toward me, but Raf grabs him by the shoulder. I let out a shaky breath and said, “Utah, it’s yours. Just sign the damn papers.” 

Utah’s eyes narrow into furious slits. He shoves past Raf and snatches the pen from my hand, signing the paperwork, his need for opioid cash winning over his disdain for Rafael.

I swallow hard, my heart feeling heavy, as I drop the engagement ring into Utah’s shaky palm. Hurting from the loss of the memento that I kept close to my heart of the one time I truly felt wanted by Raf. My heart was bleeding from the never-ending growing chasm between Utah and me, and even once he got clean, I was filled with uncertainty that we’d be able to heal from the rift this moment was sure to cause in our relationship. Utah eyed me with so much disdain for forcing his hand to sell our childhood home and family legacy.

“Don’t let him file it yet. Just give me some time. I’ll figure this out,” Utah bites out.

“I have no choice. It’ll be too late otherwise,” I plead with Utah, his eyes awash with betrayal as he storms toward the door.

“If you sell our mother’s land, especially to Chevalier, you’ll be fucking dead to me, Catori,” Utah threatens before walking out the door; his footsteps and loud slam of the front door sounded like a finality I didn’t want to examine.

I drop into the kitchen chair, heaving and bawling my heart out. I feel Raf’s hand brushing my hair, trying to soothe me as I ugly cry.

“You kept the ring all these years,” Raf whispers in awe, more to himself than to me.

That ring meant a lot of things to me.

But more than anything, it had been a reminder that Rafael Chevalier was nothing but a beautiful mirage in a desert, a fleeting oasis promising relief, only to evaporate into the harsh reality of unfulfilled promises.

I had to figure out a way through this mess for me and my siblings that didn’t involve the two men in my life I loved with all of my heart because both had a way of inevitably letting me down when I needed them the most.

Some things never change in life, no matter how many times you wish things were different.

I stand against the wall of the Yellowstone Community Center that’s decked out for the annual Yellowstone River Valley holiday celebration; even in my nicest cowboy boots and prettiest red sweater dress, I feel like a fraud pretending to be full of merriment and cheer. Instead, my mind is lightyears away, my heart still breaking from reminders of my last unpleasant meeting with Utah and the growing tension between me and Taz. The only bright side of the past few days leading up to Christmas is how much of a fun time the kids have had sharing our Yellowtail family holiday traditions with Rafael.

Naturally, it was his idea to attend this community Christmas shindig in an attempt to keep me from losing my fucking mind this holiday season. However, I think I would’ve preferred a night at home lounging in my bathtub, getting drunk off spiced mulled wine and eggnog while singing off-key to Wham’s Last Christmas, a song that’s been stuck in my head on repeat since Raf’s arrival back in town.

From my quiet corner on the periphery of the Yellowstone holiday party, I give small smiles and pleasant greetings to the seas of familiar faces swirling around me. At moments like this, in large social gatherings, even amongst a crowd of people I’ve known my entire life, I can’t help but feel as out of place as if Mike Myers had been the one holding up the “to me, you are perfect” sign in Love Actually. It’s as if I’m an actor in a movie, trying to play a role everyone else seems to have mastered so effortlessly. My body is so attuned to Rafael’s that my gaze involuntarily tracks his every movement. Raf has always been a people person. Even as the chubby kid in middle school who could only talk about baked goods and Gordon Ramsay’s Hell’s Kitchen, he found a way to get people to become enamored with him. Becoming hotter with every year he ages, a celebrity and the heir to Yellowstone royalty had him navigating the holiday party like a red carpet event, his entrance and every subsequent move marked by lonely women and desperately sex-starved housewives fangirling over him. 

The echoes of laughter and clinking of glasses had become the soundtrack to my miserable solitude as Raf effortlessly charms everyone in his proximity. Watching Raf awakened memories I’d buried in my subconscious. Memories of being the girl in high school he could only love in secret because I couldn’t embody a fraction of his natural charisma and charm. Every passing minute of being at this holiday party was like a cruel déjà vu, a replay of the days when he was the popular Chevalier, coveted like some kind of God. I was just some invisible nobody on the sidelines. Watching him give autograph after autograph and take selfie after selfie, I couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy that I had yet to overcome, even though I had accumulated some fame of my own, being one of the only female bull riders nationwide.

I felt like I was watching a movie I’d seen a thousand times. The movie echoes our high school dances, where he was the hot commodity everyone wanted to dance with and to be around. I was just the girl longing to be claimed by him in public, the one he ignored in our school hallways but couldn’t get enough of fucking in any secret secluded place he could find. I felt the weight of the years that had transformed me but left the dynamics of our shared history intact. The crushing weight bearing on my soul because letting Rafael back into my life didn’t leave me feeling good about myself.

Rafael Chevalier fucked me better than any man I’d ever met, but being in his presence outside of our fuck and suck sessions, he only damaged my self-esteem. At that moment, the holiday lights glittered, but the shadows of the past cast a poignant gloom on the festivities, leaving me a prisoner to the negative voices in my head.

When Kayah leaped into his arms, and they began dancing, she treated him like he was God’s gift to humanity, watching my siblings love and enjoy his company more than mine, even though I’d had made countless sacrifices for them this holiday season, was too much for me to stand.

Enough was enough.

I had to find a place to lick my wounds in peace.

I wandered out of the building, loving the feeling of the bitter cold nipping at my face. I walked along the trail behind the community center, trying to clear my head. Annoyed with always feeling like an understudy or a supporting character in the lifework of Rafael Chevalier, I stop in front of the big rustic red barn we used to use for FFA meetings. I laugh to myself, thinking about the irony of the situation because this barn held so many memories for me and Raf. Hell, if I thought about it, the entire town of Yellowstone was a constant painful reminder of shared unforgettable moments with him.

The barn door creaked as I yanked it open; I switched on the lights that slowly illuminated the building, which had completely transformed from what I remembered in high school as a classic storage unit for farm products and equipment to one that now harbored all the events supplies for the multitude of our town’s celebrations. A couple of bales of hay and blankets lay around the barn as I walked through the maze of party supplies and decorations. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I slipped my metal flask wrapped in worn, genuine leather out of the pocket of my sweater dress. Sometimes, I wondered if it was bad that I enjoyed my own company better than time spent surrounded by others. I take a long swig from my flask, enjoying the nutty oak flavor of the bourbon that burned on the way down.

“You still have the flask I gave you. First, the ring, now the flask. I guess I’ve given you some great things over the years,” Rafael’s baritone voice says, causing butterflies to erratically flutter in my stomach at the mention of a few of my favorite secret reminders of him. I didn’t have the heart to toss these things to the side, at least not like how easily he did me and our relationship.

“Once upon a time, I fell in love with a sweet, fat boy. I’ve held onto some things in memory of him,” I tease, holding the flask out to Rafael. He uncomfortably chuckles at my comment before taking the flask from my hand. My skin prickles as lust courses through my veins at the sexy movement of his throat as he takes long sips from my flask. 

Raf's hand brushes mine as he hands back the flask, his bright green eyes deepening to the darkest green, filled with desire, setting my skin aflame and causing my pussy to throb. Our minds share the same memories of all the hot, sweaty sex we had in this barn, leaving us spent and breathless like we’d participated in a tri-Athalon. The feel of his warm big thumb brushing across my lip before grabbing me by the nape of my neck to seize me for a kiss is my fucking undoing. Every bad thought that warned me away from him evaporates, and it’s just me and him and the promises of a good fucking time, a stark contrast to what began as a lonely, depressing night.

Rafael kisses me hard and possessively, entangling our bodies on the blanket atop the bale of hay, the air thick with sexual want and anticipation. Our lips tangle in a fiery dance, causing my nipples to grow oh so hard and oh so erect as my clitoris pulsates between my thighs. I mold myself to his body, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips, pulling him closer to me as our tongues dart and tango in each other’s mouths. Rafael pulls away first, breathing heavily, untangling himself from my grasp, and standing to his full height.

“Strip for me, Cat. I want to see that sexy fucking body of yours in this barn for old-time sake,” Raf commands, crossing his arms and quirking his eyebrow in a challenge. I smirk to myself as I stand, feeling jittery, enjoying when Rafael orders me around in sex-charged instances, and I close my eyes, listening to the loud sound of the muffled Christmas music carrying through the air from the community center’s Christmas party. I don’t have many layers to take off, but I was going to prolong my striptease because it brought me sheer joy to watch Rafael sweat a little bit.

I slowly sway my hips from side to side, my hands caressing my breasts as I skim my hands down the indent of my waist until I’m gripping the flared hem of my red sweater dress. I spin around in a circle until my ass is facing Rafael as I slowly tug the skirt around my waist. I hear Raf suck in a deep breath, letting out a low whistle as I bend my body in half and bounce my ass from side to side, feeling the liquid courage takeover. I stand up, slowly lifting the dress over my head, spinning around to toss it at his feet. The look of hunger and desperation, and watching his restraint slowly splinter to pieces, egged me on as I put on my floorshow for Rafael. I stand in front of him, my skin flush with arousal, my chest heaving from excitement, and his hot gaze burning as his dark green eyes peruse my curves that are covered in small scraps of black floral lace, my lacy G-string and balconette bra, barely containing my full C-cup breasts and accentuating my tone ass. I wiggle out of my thong, tossing it to him, which he catches, and holds the damp seat of my panties to his nose, his eyes rolling to the back of his head like he’s inhaling the finest scent and getting high off the scent of my aroused pussy.

I strut toward him as he tucks my panties into the pockets of his dark-washed jeans. I unclasp my bra, letting the swollen mounds of my breasts hang free, my nipples elongating under his gaze, my nipples growing harder and more erect than I’d ever imagine as my pussy grows slicker, my juices dripping down onto my inner thighs. I wrap my bra around Raf’s neck, pulling his face down between my breasts. He pinches and kneads my nipples, eliciting a low throaty groan from my parted lips as he licks and sucks the tops of my titties. I pull away from him, but as I move to discard my cowboy boots, Rafael stops me with a hand on the back of my shoulder.

“Leave them on. I want to fuck you just like that. Now, show me how you like to fuck yourself,” Raf demands, his voice deeper, harsher, and his words drip with lust. My pussy quivers, longing for the feel of Raf lodged deep inside of me, fucking me hard, long, and deep.  I walk back to the bale of hay, taking a seat on the blanket, my right hand toying with my nipples as my left-hand scissors between my slick folds, lubing them up before plunging two fingers deep inside my hot wet pussy. I close my eyes, imagining Rafael’s hand between my thighs and his tongue and mouth sucking and licking my nipples as I play with my pussy until I moan and my entire body shakes from pleasure.

“What do you think about when you fuck yourself at night,” Raf groans out.

“I think about your dick inside of me, fucking me hard, your mouth on my nipples, sucking on them until they’re painfully sensitive, and you slapping my ass until I cum,” I moan,  stroking that delicious spot deep inside of me. I’m a writhing mess, deliriously sex-crazed, and my needy pussy is sopping wet, desperate, and starving for Raf to be balls deep inside me. I’m about to beg for his dick when I feel a sharp slap of leather against my swollen clitoris. The stinging pain spreads a fire through my pussy before it tingles with pleasure. I open my eyes, letting out a shocked whimper as I see Rafael’s gorgeous muscular naked frame looms over me, he holds a black riding crop he’s found somewhere, and his tattoos look so damn tasty.

 “Hold your ankles tight for me, baby,” Rafael grinds out, lifting my legs until I’m folded in half. I hold my ankles that, are sitting next to my ears. My clitoris throbs as he runs the riding crop up and down my pussy that’s drenching wet. Once he gets it nice and lubricated with my arousal, he rubs it against my lips, forcing it into my mouth, making me taste the salty sweetness of myself.

“If you let go of your ankles, I won’t let you cum,” Raf threatens as he taps my clitoris hard with the crop causing my body to flinch as the nub between my thighs throbs, making me groan from ecstasy. Raf slaps my ass and my clit with my crop, causing me pleasurable pain, making me scream from how it hurts so good. With every slap of the leather to my ass, every stroke of the crop on my clitoris, the sliding of it through my slick folds, and the tweaking of my nipples, I grew more and more sexually frustrated.

“Please, Raf,” I pant, about ready to crawl out of my skin, my hot, wet core spasming around its emptiness, my clitoris growing a second heartbeat. I couldn’t take any more of his teasing as the crop slapped down on my clitoris, causing me to bite my lip, enraged by his edging.

“Please, what, baby? Come on, use your words like a good girl, and I just may fulfill your request,” Raf taunts, running the crop over my painfully hard nipples.

“Fuck me, Raf! Fuck me right fucking now,” I shout, watching as he drops the riding crop to the ground after whacking my sore ass cheeks one more time. He rips open a condom, rolls it over his dick, and he slams into me hard and fast. My pussy is so wet and aching that I clench down on him, my orgasm ripping through my body at the feeling of his dick filling me to the hilt. He bucks into me hard and fast, fucking me through my orgasm. His breath is harsh against my ear as he dives into my pussy deeper, his body weighing me down, trapping me so I can’t move, allowing him to control the punishing rhythm he sets with each thrust of his hips. I’m his fuck toy to use my pussy how he sees fit, and I fucking love it.

Raf slides his dick out of me, teasing me with shallow circles at the entrance of my pussy, dragging the head of his thick big dick across the sensitive nerve endings at my pussy’s opening as he takes my ankles from my hands, positioning my hips raised slightly off the hay bale, and wrapping my legs securely around his waist. He plunges back into me hard and fast, and from this angle, with me balancing on my shoulders, my back in an arch, his dick feels bigger, deeper, and I feel so fucking full. He fucks me until I feel my entire body begin to shake, my moans growing into groans and turning into screams of ecstasy as I feel my second orgasm begin to build. He picks up his pace, his dick hitting my g-spot over and over until I’m launched into another galaxy, into the sweetest oblivion, as I see fucking stars. I scream out his name, feeling his dick twitch inside of me as he cums hard and loud before his big body collapses on top of me.

He lifts his head with herculean strength after fucking me so hard, kissing the dampness of my temple, and pushing my hair out of my face. He looks down at me, his eyes filled with so much emotion that I don’t want to examine it too much. He rises from me, the cold air hitting my naked body and causing me to shiver. He takes off the condom, his dick growing hard again as he slips on another one. Before I can blink, think, or say anything, he’s picking up my limp body, anchoring my legs around his waist, and sliding home back into my sore pussy. He sits down on the bale of hay and begins thrusting his hips inside of me, and I’m so fucking horny and always craving his dick that I wrap my arms around his neck and grind my hips down to meet him, thrust for thrust. I ride his dick, rolling my hips, loving the feel of my clitoris grazing against his pelvis. He sucks that pulsing spot on my neck until I’m panting and breathless.

I want to fuck him forever. His little kisses, his whispers of praise, as he pounds into my pussy is heaven on earth. I can’t get enough of Rafael and his massive dick that weaves a spell around me. I bounce on his cock, my heart threatening to beat out my chest like I’ve run a marathon; my body begins to shake as his thrust becomes more erratic and fast; I clench down on his dick as we ring the climax out of each other. He holds his sweaty forehead to mind. Time seems to stand still, and I allow myself to sink into this moment because Christmas is coming in two days, and I didn’t know how I’d feel once Raf walked out of my life again.

Even if I didn’t miss him, I knew I’d miss his amazing cock.

Rafael licks the sweat from my neck, inhaling my scent, before kissing me long and hard. He places his sweaty forehead against mine, hugging me closer to his body, ensuring I’m unable to move out of his embrace. The air in the born is heavy with the scent of hay and the faint musk of our recent fuck session. He kissed me again, but this time sweetly, his soft lips lingering against mine. He had a strange hesitancy about him as he stroked my spine, sending shivers through my body. Rafael slightly loosens his grip around me, tugging my chin up to make me meet his gaze; he looks as if he wants to speak but is gathering his thoughts like the words he’s about to utter are foreign to his tongue.

“I love you, Catori Chevalier. I’ve always loved you. And I can’t end our marriage. I won’t. I feel like my heart is ripping out my chest at the thought of undoing that night we shared in Vegas. You’re mine, girl. No matter the distance, no matter what,” Rafael declares, his beautiful green eyes staring down into my unguarded face.

His words are a shock to my system, hanging in the air, suspended between us like a delicate snowflake caught in a gust of wind, beautiful yet fleeting, leaving me to wonder if it’s reality or just a momentary illusion from the intimacy of him holding me in his arms after fucking me senseless. I feel a deadly storm of emotions brewing within me. His words are coming over a decade too late. I fight the warmth that tries to kindle in my heart from hearing these three little words I’ve so desperately wanted to hear from him for years. But now, his profession is tempered by a cold, hard skepticism that consumes me.

Did Rafael Chevalier even know the meaning of the word love?

His actions over the years had always felt like he was too afraid to get close to me, having to hold me at arm’s length, making me feel like I was a contestant on The Bachelor, constantly having to audition for his love.  After all the humiliation, pain, silence, and distance that had grown between us over the years, I didn’t know if I could ever trust this stupidly handsome man with my heart again.

I’m sure he didn’t know what he was saying. He probably blurted it out, overcome with the nostalgia of the barn's rustic charm and the memories of simpler times, having briefly bridged the emotional chasm between us. I searched the depths of his beautiful green eyes, seeking his truths, looking for answers, and feeling so close to him but worlds apart because so much had changed between us and for us. We were no longer the same people. No longer the blissfully ignorant nineteen-year-olds that carelessly tied each other together. We were two star-crossed souls, weathered by times and tribulations, standing on the precipice of a decision that could mend or irreparably break what was left of us.

I felt so fucking torn. Those three little words stirred something within me—a flicker of hopes or the dying embers of a love that had once consumed me to a point I didn’t think I could go on without him.

“Say something, Cat. Anything, please,” Rafael whispered, his eyes pleading with mine. I close my eyes, taking in the whirlwind of this week since he showed up unannounced, guns blazing and consuming my world.

“We need to get back before the kids start looking for us,” I murmur, his brow scrunching in confusion and his eyes shrouded in hurt. His arms loosened around me as I removed myself from his cock. We dressed in silence. My mind was confused. Confusion clouded my heart with a devastating mixture of longing, fear, and still that faint flicker of hope. But I had so much riding on Rafael and my partnership with the Dreamcatcher that I didn’t know if I could risk allowing my heart to get involved.

Thank God for online shopping, next-day delivery, and Rafael Chevalier.

I hold the mug of spiked hot cocoa to my lips, loving the sound of my younger siblings' excitement this Christmas morning. None of this would’ve been possible without the stupidly handsome man making family Christmas pajamas look damn sexy as he sat beside an eager Kayah explaining her robotics kit to him. Rafael’s gaze caught mine, and he gave me a wink and a huge smile, causing my heart rate to accelerate as my body flushed, and I felt a tingle at the base of my spine that caused my clitoris to throb in sexual anticipation.

It had taken us more hours than necessary to get all the gifts wrapped and under the Christmas tree because Raf fucked me from the side, in missionary, and in doggy under the Christmas tree, with me biting down on the Christmas tree skirt in fear of waking up the kids as he pounded my pussy until I couldn’t think straight. The memory of our Christmas Eve spent wrapped in each other’s arms, sweaty, sexually satiated, and exhausted from fucking until we could barely keep our eyes open, and me waking to him thrusting inside of me this morning had me rubbing my legs together, desperately aching to feel his cock deep inside of me once again.

“When are we going to talk about what happened at the community Christmas party,” Raf questions, his hot breath causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand. I close my eyes, his words drying up my pussy, and killing my hopes of us sneaking off to my bedroom for a quickie while the kids were distracted by all their shiny new belongings. I gesture with my head to the hallway so as not to cause a big commotion in front of the kids.

“What’s there to say,” I ask, shrugging and taking a long sip of my hot cocoa. The warmth from the sweet, chocolatey notes and the cinnamon taste of the whiskey calmed my nerves.

Rafael laughs aloud, asking, “You cannot be serious. I love you. I told you I’ve always loved you, and I don’t want this to end between us, and you haven’t said anything back. Am I alone in my feelings?”

I stare into his bright green eyes that he’s left unguarded for me. They’re filled with fear and clouded with hurt as the silence stretches between us like a video game glitch, the characters frozen in a moment of suspended animation, the narrative stuck in an unresolved loop. I didn’t know how to respond to his question. Of course, I loved Rafael Chevalier. He isn’t alone in his feelings, but, unlike him, I couldn’t selfishly just think about my feelings and what I desired. I had four kids relying on me, and Rafael lived miles away from Montana; with a life and celebrity image, he had to think that his declaration of love was irrational to our current life circumstances.

“Raf, those are words I’ve wanted to hear since I was thirteen, but they’re too late. I love you, but-“ I start to explain before he invades my space, his hand tilting my chin up, making my sorrowful eyes clash with the white-hot anger of his gaze.

“But nothing. You love me. I love you. There’s nothing to consider. We will make it work,” Raf states, placing his forehead against mine and pulling my body closer to his.

“Wow, you haven’t learned anything, have you,” Utah’s gravelly voice states. His presence was a thankful intrusion on this awkward argument, even if his comment was unwelcome. I used the moment of shared shock between Rafael and me to pull out of his embrace.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” Rafael grounds out between clenched teeth, pushing me behind him and getting into a protective stand.

“Last time I checked, this was my house,” Utah responds, both men like two bulls in a heated standoff, the tension thickening with each passing second. Utah looked frail, sickly, and bad, but his clothing was clean and presentable, unlike the last time I saw him, and his eyes weren’t blitzed out and wild like a man who’s just had his last hit.

“Actually, not for much longer. The paperwork has been filed, and after the holidays, it’ll be processed. Your little sister and I will own this property. So go back to whatever crack house you crawled out of Utah,” Rafael insults Utah as he wraps his arm protectively around my shoulder. Guilt settles like a boulder in my stomach, burning it like I’ve consumed an entire bottle of Pure Evil 13 Million hot sauce, the uncomfortable heat spreading through my insides like a relentless wildfire of regrets.

“Wow, you’re such an idiot, Catori. To think, you could trust a Chevalier over your own flesh and blood. What did he do or say this time? Continue his promises of forever, finally tell you he loves you? Are you that dense? He’s using you, like always. Only this time, the stakes were higher, and now a Chevalier owns the land our mother never wanted to part with,” Utah screams, walking toward us, his reprimand making me feel about two feet tall and worse than horseshit.

“I do love my wife. I always have. She did what she needed to do, unlike you, who were too busy shooting toxins into your fucking veins to give a shit about your family. If you’re going to be angry at anyone, be angry at yourself and your piss poor choices,” Raf bellows. My eyes blur with tears, and I open my mouth, but nothing comes out because the words are stuck behind the big lump currently lodged in my throat. Utah looks between us and snorts. He laughs loudly until his entire body shakes as he looks between us.

“Did you both lay all your cards on the table? Do you know everything about Catori,” Utah asks, and bile begins to rise in my throat as I try to take a step forward. But I’m too late, as Utah speaks, “If so, I should congratulate you on your fatherhood, but I guess I’m a decade too late, huh? But, congratulations, Catori, at least after our mother’s death, one of all of our hopes and dreams came true. You, Kayah, and Rafael can finally be a happy family.”

I feel Raf tense beside me, his face turning an ashen white. I see the enjoyment cross Utah’s face, and his shoulders straighten as if his choice to unearth a family skeleton helped him find the confidence that his addiction had stolen from him. I see four shocked eyes peer around the corner, knowing they’d been eavesdropping this entire time. My eyes clash with bright green eyes filling with tears, her entire body shaking with sobs, as Utah bumps past us, not even acknowledging the destruction he left by dropping his truth bomb. Tazanna gives me a hate-filled glare, her arms wrapping around Kayah, trying to comfort her.

“You’re married to Rafael Chevalier,” Shaniya questions, confused.

“More importantly, Kayah is a Chevalier, and she’s not our sister but our niece. What other lies have you been telling,” Tocho asks vehemently.

Before I can respond, Rafael's entire face turns a deep crimson, his big muscular frame shaking, and he hisses, “HOW FUCKING COULD YOU, MALDITA PERRA TONTA.”  I begin to shake, cowering as his insulting words hit me like each one a bullet to my heart.

“I-I-I was going to tell you. All of you. Some day. I was nineteen, alone, pregnant, and scared; I didn’t –“ I begin, stepping toward a crying Kayah, who recoils as I approach her. Hurting worse than Rafael calling me a fucking dumb ass bitch, in one of his native tongues. I couldn’t bear the thought of Kayah, my little one, angry at me or, even worse, resentful and hating me. She was the reason for my existence, and I loved her with every part of me. Every time I looked at her, it was as if my heart whispered, "This is what true love feels like.” The best parts of me and Raf were reflected in Kayah. She was a living embodiment of my deepest affections.

“You should have called me. You should have let me know. Instead, you what, let your mother raise our child while you went off and led a bull riding career? You’re fucking selfish, Catori,” Rafael screams, causing me to practically jump out of my skin, having forgotten his existence.

“I’m sorry to both of you. To everyone. No one was supposed to find out like this. I-“ I cry as Rafael holds up his hand, and the only sound in the room I can focus on is the heartbreaking sobs of our daughter.

“You're sorry, won’t give me the ten years back I missed with my daughter. Forget what I said earlier. Not even love can repair the ten years of deceit. You know, even if you had said something when I came back to town, I may have been able to forgive you. But, you let me in your home. You let me spend time with Kayah, and never once did you think to tell me she w-w-were mine. I want a divorce and custody of Kayah,” Raf states, his voice cracking yet calm.

My entire body goes cold, my feet planted on the ground; I struggle to find the words as Rafael whispers something into Kayah’s ear before touching all of my siblings' shoulders and walking out the door. The loud slam woke me from my trance. My siblings and Kayah look at me with disgust before abandoning me in the hallway.

I felt distraught and heartbroken.

This Christmas was almost perfect. I was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but now, my life had become more of a fucking mess than it was before Raf had walked back into my life.

If only I had signed the divorce papers at the Sagebrush Sip and Saddle Bar a week ago.

I wouldn’t be in this mess.

Now, how was I going to make everything right? Would that even be possible now?

I just desperately needed my Christmas miracle.

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