Page 51 of Crashing the Altar
His hand went to his pocket, and he produced a cell phone, but raucous cheers sounded loudly from outside before he got a chance to dial.
All three of us in the trailer turned to the window, and my heart dropped to my stomach. We’d wasted too much time arguing, and now Tate wason the back of Thunder, being tossed around so violently he looked like a boneless rag doll. That damn horse went vertical with how high his hind legs kicked out, desperate to shake his rider.
To most, eight seconds went by in the blink of an eye, but right now, it dragged on for an eternity as I watched my friend risk his life for a shiny buckle and a pittance of a payout. All in the name of glory.
My eyes drifted to the timer. When it stopped and a buzzer sounded, I gripped the edge of the desk to keep from collapsing as relief rushed over me.
Fuck, that ride took ten years off my life, but it was finally over.
Tate landed on his feet in the dirt and took off running, climbing the fence. Safely on the other side, he kept his eyes trained on the board, awaiting the judges’ scores. It was out of my line of sight, but when Tate tossed his hat in the air, head thrown back and throat working to indicate a shout, I knew he’d blown away the competition.
Stumbling out of the trailer, I let out a wry laugh with a shake of my head. I sure hoped Thunder had enjoyed that ride—though I highly doubted it—because it would be his last. Fucker scored a forty-eight out of fifty. When you added that to Tate’s forty-four, they pulled a combined ninety-two. The next closest was in the mid-eighties.
When I made it back to Penny, her wide eyes searched mine in question.
“Was still arguing my case when they let him out of the gate.”
Her palm came to rest over my heart. “You okay?”
Swallowing, I nodded, replying roughly, “Yeah.”
“Good.” She bounced on her feet. “Because I need to talk about that ride. I’ve never seen anything like it!”
God willing, she never would again.
I grunted my agreement, not nearly as enthusiastic as my wife about Tate’s buckle-winning performance.
“Sully!”
Speak of the devil.
Penny bit back a smile as I tried to tamp down my annoyance at everyone else’s glee over a ride that should’ve never happened.
When I turned around, Tate’s smile stretched so wide I could have easily counted every one of his teeth. His body literally vibrated with adrenaline as he approached, shouting, “Hell of a horse you have there, man. Swear my life flashed before my eyes, but damn, what a thrill! Gonna take weeks to come down from that high, and I’m not mad about it.”
Penny looped her arm around my waist, tucking herself into my side. “Congrats, Tate. That was an insane ride.”
He tipped his hat at my wife. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Face pressed into my shoulder, she snickered. “He called me ma’am.”
After a stressful day, her laughter loosened the vise threatening to crush my chest. Bringing my mouth to her ear, I teased, “You like that?”
She hummed, eyes bright as she peeked up at me. “Yeah, but if you use it in bed, I’ll only be able to picture Tate’s face.”
I swatted her ass, and she jolted against me.
“Um,” Tate said awkwardly, and it forced me to drag my attention away from Penny. “I wanted to see if you and the missus wanted to come out for celebratory drinks tonight, but if you’ve got other plans . . .” For a guy who had no problem getting laid, a flush crept up his neck at the insinuation that I’d rather fuck the brat out of my wife than toast that he’d not only walked away from that ride alive but a champion.
Sliding my hand into her back pocket, I deferred to the woman who was my living dream. “Whaddya think, darlin’? Wanna try and hang with these young guns who are bound to be swarmed by buckle bunnies the minute we walk into a bar?”
Penny guffawed, rearing back. “Young guns? You act like we’re senior citizens.”
I bit back a smirk. We were still in those three months of the year when I got to taunt her about being older. Placing a hand to my chest, I replied, “Well, I’m not, but you’re getting a bit long in the tooth, sweetheart.” I pretended to check a non-existent watch on my wrist, sucking in air through my teeth. “You know what? It’s already past your bedtime. Maybe we’d better pass, after all.”
Eyes narrowed, she hip-checked me as she walked toward Tate, giving an extra shimmy of her hips because she knew I was watching. Fingering the brim of his hat, she tossed a look over her shoulder that was pure mischief. “Mighty fine hat you’ve got there, Tate. Mind if I borrow it?”
The poor kid’s mouth dropped open as he was rendered speechless by her bold request—so much so that he remained frozen when she lifted the hat from his head.
