Page 144 of Reckless
“Because I’m supposed to be mad at you, but watching you roll around with a toddler and a chihuahua makes me want to...” She wobbled her head and rolled her hand around as a way of explanation.
“Drop to your knees and put that snarky mouth to good use?”
She glared, but her lips twitched. The tiniest twitch. “Never mind. I’m still mad at you.”
But now she’s in the stands, holding our daughter. And wearing a pair of cowboy boots with an ornate steel toe, tight fucking jeans, and a tank top that does nothing but show off her breasts. I swear there’s oil on them, judging by the way the lights reflect off the round tops.
“Dude, wake the fuck up. Get your head in the game.” Rhett pokes me in the ribs and I recoil.
“Ow. That hurt.”
“Thank me later when Winter wants to give you a congratulatory blow job for winning.”
I rub at the spot where he jammed his fingers. “Rude.”
“Fast Fire doesn’t care about who’s in the stands. He just wants you dead. You drew a good bull. Unless you fall off, then you drew a mean fucker. Don’t let him win.”
That comment snaps me out of my horny stupor.
“You’re the last rider to go. That worm Emmett came back with a good score today. Better than you scored last night. He won’t give up the championship easily, so buckle up, Buttercup. You’re gonna need to hit the spurs hard tonight.”
I nod. He’s right. I’m going to have to make this bull madder than he already will be. And he’s already known to be wrathful. That’s why he’s got a spot on the circuit.
“Shoulders back. Chin down. And get ready for the direction change so you don’t go straight down the well. I’m only going to be your hero once in this lifetime. Got it?”
“Got it.” I feel it then. The focus. The calm. The sense I’m sitting exactly where my dad once was. Doing what he did.
Every time I step up here, every time I sit on a bull, I feel closer to my dad than I do anywhere else.
We watch Jude. He lasts the eight seconds, but it was a simple ride. Nothing the judges will love.
“Heads up! Fast Fire!” someone calls.
The black bull trots down the chute straight into the pen, eyes wild, a string of saliva already dripping from his mouth.
Some people might think now is when the nerves kick in, but for me, it’s the opposite.
Now is when everything other than a stupid level of confidence in myself melts away. My heart rate evens out. Every rational thought in my head grows wings and takes flight.
I’m the fucking best at this. And I’m about to prove it.
I drop onto Fast Fire’s back and he jostles me around, pitching a fit. I ignore him, tug the bull rope, and stroke it to warm the rosin.
It’s second nature, steps I could do with my eyes closed. I thrive with the dependability of the process.
As my hand works over the rope, I peek up to where Winter and Vivi are seated.
Correction: where they’re standing.
Winter is on her feet, body swaying back and forth. She has Vivi propped on her arm like it’s a seat, facing out over the ring.
I think someone behind her tells her to sit down because her lips clearly sayfuck off.
A grin twists my lips, and I turn my focus back to my hand. Wrapping the rope. Testing the tightness. Shifting my seat on the bull’s back. Giving him one roll of the spur to piss him off more.
Rhett says something to me, but I block him out.
And I nod.
