Page 34 of Reckless
His stubbled chin tips down as his gloved hand pulls methodically at a rope. I have no idea what’s going on. He looks like he’s jerking that rope off, and it entrances me how he can come off so tranquil despite the chaos surrounding him.
“You trying to put a curse on him, Win?” Summer nudges me and I offer her a wan smile, trying to cover up how insane I must look staring at the man everyone thinks I hate.
Who Idohate.
“Nah, just interested. I haven’t seen bull riding live before.”
“You watch a lot on TV?” Willa cracks.
No, on my laptopis what I almost reply, but that would raise some eyebrows. The truth is, when I was trying to get a hold of Theo, I would sometimes watch his rides.
“That’ll be the day,” I reply, forcing myself to scan the ring. But my eyes always come back. The helmet over his head doesn’t hide the look of concentration on his face. The way his tongue darts out over his lips as he hunkers down on the bull.
With a swift nod, they tug the gate open and the bull bursts out into the ring, head down to the ground, back hooves up so high they almost kiss the setting sun. My heart thuds loudly enough to rattle my ribs while the crowd around us cheers.
For one brief moment, I hope he falls off. I hope he doesn’t hit the eight seconds. It’s petty and low, but there’s a bitterness in me over the fact he could so easily walk away from me. From her.
But I also don’t much like the idea of my child’s father being a loser. At least I’ll be able to tell her he can ride a bull exceptionally well one day. And that’s something, even if it doesn’t make up for him not being a part of her life.
Theo pushes his broad shoulders back, his hand held high in the air. He comes off perfectly in control, or as in control as you can be on a thousand-pound animal who wants nothing more than to drive you into the dirt, I suppose.
And drive Theo into the dirt he does.
One dropped shoulder, one hard turn, and Theo’s body launches toward the ground like a lawn dart.
I gasp. But so does everyone around us. And when the bull turns to leave, and steps on Theo’s shoulder in the process, there is a chorus of “Ooohs,” but I’m up and moving before I even have time to make a noise.
I hustle past the people seated on the bench, heading straight toward the fence of the arena. Guilt gurgles in my stomach, like I willed this to happen to him. What the fuck kind of doctor am I?
A bitter one.
I ignore the answer and duck through the fence. The rodeo clown draws the bull toward the exit, and it crosses my mind that Vivienne doesn’t need to be left an orphan if that bull decides to turn around.
But all my emergency training kicks in, and I forge ahead anyway. Cowboys surround Theo’s body, including Rhett, who looks distraught.
“Move.” I physically push a man aside and insert myself into the circle of people around Theo. I drop to my knees at his head, noting his still body. My hands cup the sides of his helmet, holding him in place until the paramedics can get here. I lean down over him and see his chest rising and falling, but I need to hear his breath—I need more proof.
The quiet whoosh of air hits my cheek right as his spicy citrus scent hits my nose.
People are too close. Hovering. Pushing in.
“Back up!” I bark sharply.
“It’s okay, she’s a doctor,” I hear Rhett say behind me. “Everybody back it up a bit.”
The press of bodies around us recedes. I hear soft feminine sobs and almost feel the vibration of anxiety around me. When I glance over my shoulder, a girl decked out in rodeo gear has makeup streaming down her face.
She’s weeping.
And all the possibilities of what that means race through my head. I have to remind myself that I was the one-night entertainment. That’s what I asked for, and he probably found someone who wanted more.
I stare down at Theo and am hit with a pang of longing. Not for myself, but for...everything we missed. After eighteen months apart, he’s just as beautiful as I remember. Moreso even.
And fuck, he looks so much like Vivienne. It’s almost alarming. How no one has put it together yet is beyond me. It doesn’t take a doctor to see she’s a dead ringer for him.
Without even noticing, the pad of my blissfully bare ring finger has started stroking along the bare skin of his neck. Tan and warm.
And once I notice that I’m doing it, I don’t stop.
