Page 69 of Rough Ride with the Grumpy Cowboy
“Then you are not doing this for me—you’re doing it because you are a self-centered asshole who only thinks about himself,” she scolds, back to attacking me.
I get where she’s coming from. Just like Ava, I know that she blames herself for the accident as well since she was the one to beg me to drive her to the concert. But it was just a freak accident, and I need everyone around me, including myself, to stop carrying blame for something that could not have been avoided.
“El...”
“Save it. I know I can’t talk you out of it, so you better come out of there the same way you walked in—alive and with no broken bones,” she demands.
“I will. I promise.”
“Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
A loud announcement lets me know that my moment is finally here. I turn to Ava and pull her back into my arms.
“You’re gonna do great out there,” she encourages.
“I know I will, but what do I get if I win?”
Her brow lifts at the mischief in my voice. “What do you want?”
“You.”
“You already have me.”
Marry me?
I think it, but I don’t say it. It’s the wrong time and place to be proposing. Ava deserves better than a rushed-out proposal just because I’m scared I might not walk out of that arena. As a matter of fact, if I do, my next stop is the jewelry store to buy a ring worthy of Miss Diva and propose right.
“A promise. I’ll let you know what it is after.”
“Whatever it is, it’s yours.”
She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses me.
I’ve reassured Ava, gotten a scolding from Ella, a good luck kiss from Daisy. Jace is a man of few words like me, so an encouraging nod is all I get from him. The only one left is my father, but he doesn’t say anything because I know he’ll be with me at the bucking chute.
I let our kiss last a few seconds longer before I detach myself from Ava and walk away.
After selecting my bull by pulling his name out of a hat, we all head back inside for the competition to start. I end up getting a beast named Titan, who has thirty-four consecutive buck-offs, and I do not intend to be the thirty-fifth.
The wait for my turn is torturous, but I’ve been anticipating this moment for five years—it’s now or never. Finally, my name is called upon and I climb onto the bucking chute just as Titan is urged into it. My father is right there, a proud look on his face.
“It’s just eight seconds, son—eight seconds. You’ve prepared hard enough, now go out there and prove yourself,” he asserts.
Growing up, I always knew that I wanted to be a bull rider and follow in my father’s footsteps. He is one of PBR’s greatest legends. He retired when Ella was born to focus more on our family.
When he noticed my interest in taking after him, he trained me personally and made me a great bull rider like him. My other siblings have all participated in different rodeo events at one time or another, but bull riding was always my thing with our father.
When the doctor announced that I would never be able to ride again, I saw the light fade in his eyes. I had failed him, taken away our dream. Today, however, I get the chance to prove to myself and my family once again that I can do this—for me, for them.
“Eight seconds,” I affirm.
With a nod from him, I mount Titan and he begins bucking immediately. I remain calm as I secure a good grip on the rope.
Eight seconds—I just have to remain mounted on him for eight seconds. Of course, there’s more to it than remaining seated onan animal that almost weighs a ton. I need to remain forward at all times without touching the animal, myself, or my equipment with my free hand.
I will be judged for good body positioning, including free arm and spurring action. Half the score will be determined by my performance, and the other half is based on the bull’s efforts.
