Page 44 of Austin
Chapter Nine
“New sponsor! That’sgreat! Now you need to land a documentary film, like your brother.”
Austin gripped the phone a little tighter. His dad had called early and Austin decided it was time to answer. “I don’t want to be the subject of a documentary, Dad.”
His brother, Ty, hadn’t been that wild about it in the beginning, but it had worked out for him.
“You’ve got to strike while the iron’s hot.”
“Yeah.” Austin pressed a hand against his forehead, wondering for the umpteenth time what his stage-mom father was going to do when both of his kids were out of the business and he could no longer be a vicarious champion.
“I know some people—”
“Dad…”
“Okay. I’ll keep my mouth shut. For now. But if you change your mind…”
“I’ll let you know. I’ve got to start working out now. Could you put Mom on?”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate the support.”
After talking to his mom, he ended the call and stuffed his workout clothing into a small grip bag. He’d do his physical therapy in the gym today. Kristen had been politely friendly, yet somehow distant, this morning before going to breakfast without him when his dad called, thus setting the tone for the remainder of their time together.
He liked her.
More than he should, but their time together was limited. She was working to break free, as she’d called it, and to be more flexible—hell, she’d practically propositioned him—but she was still Kristen Alexander. Overachiever with a mission in life, and she’d be back at that mission after making peace with her family. She’d probably end up being vice president of a bank or something, and he would… He didn’t know. He had money in the bank and no idea what he was going to do for a career once he was done riding bulls.
Something would shake out, and until then, he’d focus on winning this tour.
The other bull riders would be drifting into town today and tomorrow. There were sponsor parties and pre-functions to attend, and he and a couple other riders had a signing at a big western store on Friday before the prelims. If all went well in the prelims, he’d ride again on Saturday and on the following day he’d drive Kristen to Marietta.
Two weeks later he’d be in Portland, once again traveling alone. He really should hook up with someone and share a ride, since it didn’t look like his usual travel partner, who, along with Braden, had been demoted to the minors, was going to be back on the main tour any time soon.
Or maybe he’d continue his solo act. It felt comfortable.
Although he was beginning to think that comfort was overrated. He couldn’t say it was easy having Kristen sharing a room with him—but it was interesting. And he was having a hard time shoving her out of his brain when he needed to focus on other things.
He was going to have to work harder at that—for both their sakes.
*
Kristen was beginningto think that Austin was avoiding her. She’d left the room that morning when he’d taken the call from his father, and found it empty when she came back forty minutes later. It was still empty when she stopped by after spending a couple hours taking in the sights, and when she returned later that afternoon, she found a note propped against the television saying that he was out with some bull riders who’d just got into town. Possibly the same crew he’d been with at the Silver Bow.
“Be back late,” the note read. “Charge your dinner to the room.”
The last bit sounded like an order. Austin might be a take-charge kind of guy, but that didn’t mean he needed to take charge of her, or direct her activities when he wasn’t there. She’d pay for dinner herself, thank you very much.
Kristen took the elevator down to the lobby and spent some time perusing the magazines and books in the lobby gift shop before buying a box of microwave popcorn and a Diet Coke. She’d just put her charge card back in her purse when someone behind her said, “Excuse me.”
She turned to see the young bull rider who had called Austin an asshole the previous evening standing behind her. He pulled his hat off, his face going red as he said, “I was, uh, hoping to see you before I left. I want to apologize for the scene I caused.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say, other than maybe he shouldn’t drink so much.
He gave her a jerky nod, then abruptly turned and walked away, clamping his hat back on his head as he left the gift shop.
What would it be like to be nineteen and have your dream on the skids? Bull riders did not have long careers for obvious reasons. Some guys lasted longer than others, competing into their thirties, but for the most part, that didn’t happen.
