Page 52 of Austin
The earth met him in a teeth-jarring crash. Dirt stung his face, and then his entire upper body lifted as the bull stepped on his calf, his hoof sliding off his boot. His face hit the dirt again as pain seared through his lower leg.
Son of a bitch.
He squeezed his eyes shut, the dirt in his lashes stinging his eyes. There was a thud next to him, not loud enough to be the bull, and he raised his head to see the bull fighter peering down at him. Immediately he started pushing up to his feet. A hand slid under his arm and he made it all the way up to vertical.
One limping step and the crowd roared. The score came over the loudspeaker, but he didn’t catch it. Eighty something. Enough for the finals?
Another step and his leg felt as if it was going to explode right then and there.
He wouldn’t give in to the pain. Another step. Another.
Out the gate and on past the guys who clapped him on the shoulder, toward the medical room at the other end of the long concrete hallway. A medic who’d been at the chutes caught up with him, put a hand under his elbow, helping ease the burden on his sore leg.
“How bad?”
“You tell me. I just hope you don’t have to cut the boot off. It’s new.”
*
So this waswhat it felt like to have one’s stomach turned inside out—and have it stay that way.
Austin had walked out of the arena after the bull had trod on his leg, but it had been all Kristen had been able to do to stay in her seat during the remainder of the event. She’d tried to bluff her way to the contestants’ area, only to be stopped by security, who were taxed with the job of keeping the groupies at bay until the bull riders appeared to sign autographs. She went back to her seat not knowing whether Austin was behind the chutes supporting his friends, or if he was in an ambulance, heading for the nearest medical center.
This is what he does. This is what all these guys do.
And, judging by Braden Crawford, it was devastating to them when they could no longer ride bulls competitively. A different breed, these bull riders. She couldn’t imagine embracing the unknown on a weekly basis, taking a chance at ending her career each and every time she went to work.
Kind of made getting laid off look boring.
After the performance ended and Kelly Kincaid, a bull rider who had just made his way up from the minors into the American Extreme Bull Riders Tour, was named the winner, Kristen headed for the exit where she was supposed to meet Austin. This time the security pass worked and she made her way along a concrete corridor. Austin came out of a set of metal double doors as she approached, dressed in gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, his leg strapped into a protective boot.
“Precautionary,” he told her. “To stabilize it until I get to the hotel.”
“Then you can take it off?”
“I’m going to.” He gave her a smile that didn’t quite hit his eyes. “How’re you doing?”
“Me?” He was asking about her after he’d been stomped on by a bull?
“Yeah.”
Her first instinct was to put on her cool unperturbed face and pretend she was doing just fine with his near-death experience. Her second was to tell him that it had scared the crap out of her. She chose the middle ground. “Working my way through it.”
“I can’t drive. They gave me a painkiller. It’s starting to take hold.”
Kristen took the keys from him, and then reached for the bag he was carrying.
“I’m not helpless.”
“Do you have to do the autograph thing?” Kristen asked as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Not while I’m under the influence.”
“Let’s go home.” A bittersweet feeling settled over her as they walked to the parking lot. After tonight, there was no more ‘home’ for the two of them. Home was a pretend place. A hotel room where they could hide from the world and real life.
She was going to miss it. Miss him.
How had she come to feel a deep connection to this guy with whom she had so little in common?
