Page 6 of Reckless
2
Theo
The blonde woman stared at me like I was some sort of alien. I had to stop and stare back because she was so fucking blatant.
I was ready to crack a joke about how objectified I felt by the way she was ogling me. But then she licked her lips once, blinked, and shot off. Which is a shame, because I liked the way she gawked at me. I wasn’t feeling objectified at all. If she’d looked me in the eye, all bets would have been off. I could have given her something to really stare at.
I didn’t become a bull rider because I can’t stand an audience. The show, the crowd, the recognition—I thrive on it. I was born into it. Gabriel Silva is arguably one of the most famous World Bull Riding Federation riders of all time.
And he isn’t just my idol. He’s my dad.
Was?I never know how to refer to him. He still feels very present to me even though he died so long ago.
As I swing up into my truck, I chuckle to myself. I know the stunning blonde in the fancy Audi will cross my mind from time to time. Because there was something unusually wholesome about that interaction, like she was a teenager caught gawking and got embarrassed about it. I’d feel bad for her if I didn’t feel so bad for myself that she ran off before I could get her number.
I hit the darkened road heading out to Wishing Well Ranch. I’ve come out here enough times over the years that I know where I’m going, whether it’s dark or not. My mentor, Rhett Eaton, lives out here, and with my mom and sister living a province away, his family has become a little like my own over the holidays.
I’d usually head to Mom’s place for Christmas, but she took a singles cruise with my little sister so they could both meetMister Right, I think they called it.
And though I might be very, very single, I have zero desire to partake in that shit with my family.
Hard pass.
There are plenty of single buckle bunnies out on the WBRF circuit for me to pass the time with—boring as the endless series of mindless fucks have become—that don’t require involving my mom.
Not to mention the whole boat thing freaks me out.
Put me on an angry bull? I’m fine.
Put me on a big boat with no land anywhere in sight? Hard pass. I saw anOprahepisode about people who go missing on those, and I’m too young and pretty to die.
Within a few minutes, there are red taillights ahead of me and I’m gaining on them quickly. Really quickly.
“Come onnnn,” I groan into the quiet cab of my truck as I tip my head back.
Yeah, it’s snowing, but the roads are hard-packed and not icy. I finally catch up to the car and realize just how slow they’re going. Thirty kilometers an hour. In a fifty. And this isn’t even a school zone.
It’s when I get close enough that I realize it’s the smokeshow in the Audi. I should have guessed. The heeled boots and the long coat didn’t scream country girl.
And neither does the way she drives a back road.
The signal light flicks left. The vehicle slows and then speeds up.
The signal light flashes right, and the car swerves a little.
Maybe she’s lost? Or drunk? I sometimes zone out like she did staring at me when I’ve had a few too many.
Then I get close enough to see the light of her cell phone through the back window.
Perfect. Texting and driving. This chick is gonna kill herself. Or me.
Maybe if we shared a hospital room, I could get her number after all. Might be worth it.
When she slams the brakes, I startle and honk.
“Seriously!” I shout, my heart rate ratcheting up. I don’t care how hot she is. She’s a fucking terrible driver.
She shoots forward but slows again. I back off, not wanting to be too close to someone this erratic.
