Wyatt nudged his horse into a trot, grimacing when the gentle movement of his mount made Noelle rock against him, in a rhythm that was all too tempting. He shifted, trying to pull his hips back, but there was nowhere to go.

He swore, trying not to think about the fact that his arm was just beneath her breasts. Yeah, his forearm might be only millimeters from contact with them, but it was a chasm he wasn't going to cross. What the hell was he doing even thinking about them? He'd seen her tears. He'd seen the loss in her eyes when she'd marveled over the fact he was alive. So what if his entire body had gone into overdrive when she'd touched him? That was no excuse.

She needed someone to rescue her, to help her, not to grope her.

And hell, he had sworn off women the day he'd found out the truth about his ex-fiancée.

And yet, despite both facts, he couldn't stop thinking about how Noelle felt against his chest. He couldn't help but notice the faint scent of flowers that seemed to cling to her. He couldn't help but wrap his jacket more snugly around her, and pull her more tightly against him, so that he could use his body and his jacket to ease the shivers wracking her body.

He had to hold her close, but damn, he didn't have to notice it. He cleared his throat. "So, um, Noelle, what do you do for work?" The moment he asked the question, he grimaced. Work? He'd asked about work? A woman so appealing that she'd taken his breath away with one look of her eyes was in his arms, and he'd asked her about work?

But even as he thought it, he felt her relax slightly, as if she, too, was in need of something to take her mind off the intimacy of their position. "I'm a writer. A mystery novelist."

His eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? That's cool as shit."

She laughed softly, relaxing even more against him. "Yes, except I can't think of an idea for my next book. It's been almost a year since it was due, but my brain stopped working."

He didn't need to ask why she'd had writer's block. He could figure it out. "Kind of like how I lost the ability to ride bulls. It's something you've done your whole life, and suddenly, your ability to do it just vanishes."

She looked over her shoulder at him, surprise on her face. "You forgot how to ride bulls?"

Shit. He didn't want to be thinking about the shitstorm of his professional life right now. Grimacing, he shrugged. "Reentry issues. No biggie."

She kept looking at him, and he knew suddenly that she saw so much more than he wanted her to see. So much more than he wanted to see himself. "What happened?" she asked.

He swore again, "Nothing–" But he cut himself off as he spoke, stopped by the expression on her face. She wanted to know. She was struggling, and she needed to connect, to know she wasn't the only one. Swearing, he ground his jaw. "I took a bad crash a couple months ago. The bull was..." He thought of Jesse's visit earlier in the day and swore. "You'd like this, mystery girl. Turns out my bull was drugged, apparently to try to kill me. They suspended me because they thought I'd juiced my ride. Earlier today, they decided that since it was attempted murder, I'm not such a bad guy, and they lifted my suspension. So, I get to ride this weekend, if I can get my damn seat back–"

He stopped as she twisted all the way around, almost sideways on his horse so she could look at him. "Someone tried to murder you?"

"Apparently."

Interest gleamed in her eyes, a spark of light that made something tighten in his gut. "That's so cool. Who do you think it was?"

"Cool?" He stared at her. "You think it's cool?"

Heat flushed her cheeks. "Well, I mean, I don't think it's cool on a personal level, but I write mysteries. I've never met anyone in real life who has been almost murdered. What was it like? Were you scared? Is it creepy? Are you always looking over your shoulder now? What if they try again this weekend?"

There was so much excitement in her voice that Wyatt couldn't help but laugh. Suddenly, his stress about the bull riding and Jesse's visit dissipated, chased away by her excitement. "This is my potential murder that you find so entertaining. You realize that, don't you?" Somehow, saying it to her took away some of the weight that had been crushing him.

She nodded. "Totally. Do you know who it is? Any ideas?"

He raised his brows. "My friend Brody thinks it's my ex-fiancée, but I don't see her turning to murder."

"Oh...I bet that's weird to have to think about who might want to murder you." She eyed him. "Do you want help? I am an expert on murder, in that 'totally imaginary, far-removed-from-reality' kind of way."

A part of him was tempted to say yes, but he quickly dismissed that thought when he considered the fact that it was actual murder they were talking about. "Thanks, but I don't think getting involved with the potential murderer is exactly what Bunny had in mind when she did the house swap with you. Jesse Knight is an investigator who works for the tour, and he's working on it. If anyone can figure out who it is, it's him."

Even as he spoke, he saw the excitement in Noelle's eyes fade, and he felt her energy sag. Before he could even think about it, he added, "but I'm happy to fill you in, in case you think of something that we don't."

When her face lit up again, he knew why he'd said it. The look on her face was the only reward he needed. He had no idea why he felt so compelled to reach out and try to help this woman, but he did. He had learned long ago not to question his instincts. With Octavia, he had ignored his reservations, and he'd paid the price. With Noelle, there were no reservations. Every instinct was honed in on his need to protect her, to help her, and to wipe away the shadows still clinging to her, so that's what he was doing. At this point, he was too damn bitter and cynical to do anything except follow his gut, and his gut was telling him to take care of Noelle, end of story.

If letting her brainstorm who might've drugged that bull ignited that spirit that she had come here to find, then he was okay with that. He was going to make damn sure she stayed out of danger, but what harm could a little brainstorming cause?

She grinned at him, and he could almost feel her mind cranking into gear, as if years of dust and rust were being shed. "Tell me why you think your ex-fiancée might have tried to kill you. I mean, there are bad breakups and all, but murder seems a little extreme."

Wyatt glanced past her, checking how far they still had to ride. They were nearing the ranch, but they still had a few minutes. He was going to take them straight to the barn, because taking care of his horse was his number one priority, as it would be with any half-decent cowboy. He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he thought back to that moment a year ago, when his life had changed, when he had finally stopped believing in anything good.

He shifted his position in the saddle, and Noelle nestled more securely against him. Her body was relaxed, and moving in sync with him, and he liked it. It felt right. He sighed, focusing on the feel of her body against his as he began to speak. "I met Octavia a few years ago. She was working for the tour in the public relations department, so she was at all the events. She seemed cool, not obsessed with the bull riders, like a lot of the women are."

He heard Noelle chuckle. "You guys are considered hotties out there, huh?"

He laughed softly. "Yeah, I guess." There'd been a time when that had felt good, to be treated like he mattered. "My dad was a piece of shit, and he got kicked off the tour for cheating. It took a while to get anyone to see me as anyone but the son of a cheater. Octavia was on my side, and she did a piece on me that changed everything for me. She made me look good, and stood by me, saying I wasn't my old man."

He remembered the day that article had come out. It had blown his mind to see those kinds of words written about him, after all the shit he'd lived with his whole life. "My dad thought I was shit, and I spent my life trying to become good enough to impress him. Bull riding was all he knew, so that was how I planned to do it. I was young and stupid then, thinking that my dad's approval actually mattered, so when Octavia published that article, it paved the way for people on the tour to give me a chance. It felt damn good, really damn good...too good. It made me feel indebted to her, in a way that I should have been too smart to succumb to."

Noelle relaxed against Wyatt as she listened to him. She could hear the edge to his voice, showing her the complexity of his relationship with his father. She felt a slight tinge of jealousy as he spoke about Octavia being the first to believe in him, a surprising emotion, given that she'd just met him.

"No one had ever seen me the way Octavia presented me in her article. Because of her, I became the rising star of the tour, a rookie who had the potential to be the best. I became pretty arrogant, convinced that I ruled the world." He ground his jaw, thinking back to that period of his life, when he was so caught up in the glam and the glory. "I became a complete ass, I got sucked up into all the glamour and glitz, just the way my dad had, so long ago. At the start of my second season, I proposed to Octavia, and she said yes. I thought I had it all. I thought that I'd figured out what mattered."

Noelle glanced over her shoulder, surprised by his comment that he'd become like his dad. "Did you cheat like he did?" Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. There was no way the man with his arms around her had a dishonest bone in his body. Her soul knew it, without question.

"No, but it was close." His body tensed, and Noelle knew that he was about to get to the nitty-gritty, to the ugly part. "I made the finals of the tour that year. I was the front-runner to win the championship. On the night before the last day of the finals, I was tied for first with two rounds to ride the next night. I was feeling good, and I knew I had a chance to win. Octavia…" He paused, and she felt his arms tighten around her waist. "Octavia came to my hotel room that night. She said she had a chance for us to earn a shit ton of money. She said the odds were in my favor to win, but if I got bucked off the bull, we could both earn two hundred grand."

Noelle stiffened, startled. "She wanted you to throw the finals? After all you had worked to accomplish?"

Wyatt felt the hardness settle in his gut, just like it had that moment when he stared at Octavia, realization dawning. "Yeah, she did. Turns out, she was also shacking up with the bull rider who was tied for first. He wanted to win, and he agreed to split his winnings if I pulled my ride. He got a couple bookies to chip in, and it was set up to be a big payout. Apparently..." The bile churned in his throat, that same sick feeling of betrayal. "Apparently, she made the same offer to the rider in second, who she was also sleeping with. Both of us get bucked off, and her number one wins. She was planning to take out half a million between all the deals. Half a damned million."

Noelle felt sick to her stomach at his words. How could anyone betray someone like that, someone they loved, someone who loved them? "I'm so sorry, Wyatt. What did you do?"

"I turned her in. She lost her job. The other two bull riders denied knowing anything about her plan, so they were cleared. People accused me of making up shit to try to get them kicked off. It got ugly, and we all got bucked off in the final round, and someone else won. Octavia got another job on the tour, but she hates me now, as do the other two bull riders involved, both of whom said I initiated it. Nothing was proven, so we were all cleared, but it got us labeled."

Noelle bit her lip, feeling the tension in Wyatt's body as he spoke. "She betrayed you," she said softly. "She said she loved you, and then betrayed you. That's the worst kind of betrayal."

"Yeah." Wyatt took a deep breath, feeling the way Noelle settled more deeply against him. She didn't pull away, she didn't judge him for being so stupid. She just wrapped her hand around his wrist, an unspoken gesture of support. Something inside him tightened, something deeper than he'd felt in a long time. "Octavia turned on me, not the others. She told everyone it was my idea, and that I'd turned her in after I chickened out. She had no proof, but the seed was planted, especially given my dad. So, yeah, since then, there's an invisible asterisk next to every single ride I take."

And now, thanks to that cursed ride two months ago, there would never be any doubt in anyone's mind that he was a cheater. "Even though I was cleared of that bull ride a couple months ago, the damage is done. Everything I do will be dirty." And he hated that, hated that more than anything. "That's why I'm riding this weekend. I'm not going to walk away and let those bastards take riding away from me." He heard the anger in his voice, and he hated it. He hated that he was pissed, that he let them get to him, but he couldn't stop it.

Noelle was silent for a moment, and the only sound was the hammering of the rain, and the sound of his horse's feet sloshing through the muddy puddles. Then she spoke. "Did your dad really cheat?"

"Yeah. I asked him just before he died. He did." He'd finally posed that question a year ago, when he'd been set up by Octavia. He'd finally realized that maybe his dad's claims of innocence all those years had been true. He'd realized that maybe he'd judged his dad too harshly. He'd had hope for a split second that his dad was worth all the effort he'd put into winning his approval. "He cheated for years before they caught him." He waited for the question again, for her to ask again whether he'd cheated.

But she didn't. She was quiet, and his tension began to rise, wondering what she was thinking. He'd learned long ago not to be held back by what anyone thought of him, to tell people to fuck off if they judged him, but as he sat there with Noelle in his arms, he became increasingly tense, waiting for her response. He realized that he needed her to believe his innocence. No one except Bunny and Brody fully believed his innocence, and suddenly, he needed Noelle to. He didn't know why, but he did.

With every bit of his broken, trampled soul.