Jules and Bulls

by Chandler Ardnas

  I began picking at my potato when Tennyson addressed me again. “Are you coming to the dance tonight?”

  “What dance?” I asked in confusion.

  “Each night they have a dance, I’m sure you won’t know the band, but it is usually a lot of fun.”

  “I don’t know how to western dance,” I told him.

  "I'm certain you have enough coordination to catch on," he smiled, and it made me feel stupid. I worked on difficult choreographed routines, so a pure country dance would be a cinch.

  “I don’t know what Martin has on my schedule,” I lied, and noticed how Tennyson seemed a bit disappointed. I wondered if he wanted me to come and I got a little nervous at the thought. I felt like he was the type of guy who would be rude or feel entitled to grope me.

  A man walked up to our table and spoke softly, “Tarwater won in San Antonio.” I noticed how he moved so smoothly that he made almost no noise. His eyes would dart around, taking everything in, but his body moved lithely.

  “Of course, he did, all the competition is here,” Tennyson said angrily.

  I listened quietly as they talked about points and dollar amounts and different locations. They might as well have been speaking in French since none of it made sense to me. The gorgeous woman asked the new guy about Amylia, and I recognized the name as Tennyson’s sister.

  "She's rubbing down Georgia," he said. "I just gave him a shot, and she doesn't want his leg getting stiff."

  “What’s wrong with him?” Tennyson asked.

  "Nothing, his fever is slightly elevated. I think he'll be fine with more fluids. She doesn't want to use Sarsaparilla; she thinks the dirt isn't deep enough."

  “They’ll bring in more before tomorrow,” Royal said, and the quiet guy just shrugged.

  “What do you know about Sweet Feet, Morgan?” Tennyson asked seriously, and I realized the quiet guy was named Morgan.

  He took a long breath and thought for a few moments before answering. “He’ll go away hand, but keep your feet evenly planted in case he belly-rolls. He’ll be an easy ride, so don’t suicide wrap.”

  “I never do,” Tennyson said, and Royal kicked him under the table. Morgan walked away, and Tennyson turned his attention back to me when he caught me listening. “Do you feel like you entered a foreign country, instead of just America Light?”

  I glanced around to see if any reporters were in earshot. “I’m sorry, but I know the meanings of the words you use individually, but the way you put them together has me so confused.”

  He laughed loudly and put his arm on the back of my chair and turned to face me fully. “Have you ever ridden… a horse that is?” he asked with a wink, and I felt my heart speed up.

  “Is that supposed to be a sexual insinuation?” I asked, trying to show him he would not influence me.

  “Strictly recreational,” he said with a slight smile, and I wondered why he didn't have a woman sitting next to him as his brother did.

  “No, never had any interest,” I admitted.

  “Are you dating anyone?” he asked, and I felt shocked by his boldness.

  “Why?” I questioned, trying to sound cavalier.

  “I want you to come tonight. You don’t have to dance, just come hang out with me.”

  I laughed and let my head condescendingly fall to the side, "Come on, Tennyson, the rodeo queens are a mile deep; each one panting over you.”

  “Never had any interest,” he said, as he stared into my eyes. I was mesmerized by the soft color of his eyes juxtaposed to his sharp features. When I looked directly into them, he looked soft and gentle, but his rock-hard body and strong features made him look fierce.

  “I find that hard to believe,” I laughed. He shrugged and began to run his thumb up and down my back lightly as he continued to stare into my eyes. I felt a shiver run through me, and I chuckled nervously as I sat forward to get out of the reach of his thumb. "You're good; I'll give you that much," I admitted.

  He leaned in and spoke directly into my ear, “You have no idea.”

  His arrogance bothered me, so I turned to look directly at him. "But, you don't realize something about me," I warned him. "I live in L.A., and I have seen every game in the book."

  “You don’t realize something about me,” he said and licked his lips. "I never quit, and I never lose."

  “Eight seconds, not a big selling point,” I challenged.

  He grabbed his chest and acted like he was wounded, making me laugh. "I'll be honest with you," he said seriously, "Today was nothing; it's easy to ride a bronc. Tomorrow will be intense, and I make it a practice of living the night fully before, just in case."

  “Define, living fully,” I challenged him.

  “It differs, tonight it means getting to know Jules Smith.”

  I knew I was being played, but there was something so appealing about him. I hoped his own ‘celebrity' would make him leery of talking about me with any reporters or paparazzi. I looked over at Martin, and he was still gushing over the girl with big hair.

  “Why not?” I said, and Tennyson frowned.

  “You don’t seem sure, is there something holding you back?”

  “I’m not easily played, Tennyson. I will be aware, and if you are looking for someone to ‘ride’ you better look elsewhere."

  “It's not my first rodeo, which means I know what we're doing, and I don't play games. You are different, and it fascinates me. If I was only looking for someone to relieve the tension, I wouldn't have to look far."

  “Fine, we’ll hang out,” I relented. I tried to sound casual and act as if there was a real possibility I wouldn’t even show. The last thing I wanted was a smooth guy thinking he had me in his pocket.

  He smiled, and my heart pounded in my chest warning me I was making a terrible mistake.

  Chapter 2

  I walked through the doors of the large conference center across the street from the arena. Martin came with me, anxious to meet another queen, no doubt. I felt out of place in my skinny jeans and low-cut, V-neck t-shirt. I didn’t have boots and wasn’t about to purchase any, so I wore my converse high tops.

  The music was loud, and the liquor was plentiful. I told a young man at the ticket table I was a guest of Tennyson Weller’s and he immediately rose to show me the way. A woman next to him grabbed my hand and stamped it with some ink.

  Martin wandered off as soon as we entered the hall and I was taken to table at the far end of the room. It was full of people, and I was so relieved when Tennyson saw me. He smiled as he headed my way. “You came,” he said and took hold of my hand.

  His hand was warm, and I liked how tightly he held mine. "You were right; I don't know the band."

  He was holding a long neck bottle and put it in the front of his jeans as he pulled me forward to make introductions. I tried to concentrate on the names, but the bottle sticking out of his pants kept breaking my concentration. “Jules, these are my parents, Merritt and Miriam.”

  I extended my hand and smiled in earnest. “Hello,” I said, as they both shook my hand. I noticed his father gave Tennyson a sideways glance, but his mother was more than welcoming. It impressed me they came to his events. My parents wouldn’t be caught dead at one of my concerts.

  “You remember Royal and Bethany,” he said, as we passed his brother and his wife. I didn’t have the nerve to tell him I wasn’t introduced, but Bethany's demeanor was icy, so I remained quiet.

  “This is my sister, Amylia, and her fiancé, Morgan. Morgan is our veterinarian, too.”

  Amylia jumped up, and I was shocked at her tiny size. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail that went to her waist, and her smile encompassed her entire face. She had shockingly blue eyes that made her extremely beautiful. Her brothers were not necessarily tall, but they dwarfed her. She noticed my eyes and laughed. "Yeah, I'm the runt of the litter."

  “Oh, I didn’t mean…”

  "It's okay. I have the biggest personality, so it evens out," she laughed. "I kno
w who you are, Jules. The rest of these cowpokes don’t have a clue. I like your music.”

  “Thank you, I’m enjoying just being part of the crowd,” I confessed.

  “Then you will want to stay far from Tennyson, he relishes the limelight,” she said, as she punched her brother in the gut.

  “Hey, it follows me, what can I say,” he teased.

  “You want some cowboy Kool-Aid?” she asked, as she handed me a beer.

  “I think I’m going to need a lot of these tonight,” I said softly, and felt Tennyson tighten his grip on my hand. He pulled me to an empty spot at the table, and we sat down. I watched the dance floor and got nervous. I had no idea how to do the steps everyone seemed to know.

  “Hey,” Tennyson called to get my attention, “feeling like a fish out of water?”

  “That’s putting it mildly; I feel more like a whore at a virgin’s convention.”

  He laughed and took a swig of his drink before saying, "Nobody here's a virgin, relax."

  “Well, I wasn’t admitting I’m a whore,” I clarified.

  He looked at me for a moment and then went back to his beer. His eyes made me nervous, and I didn't like being the star-struck one. It felt like the balance of power had shifted, and I felt weak.

  “So, whose place am I taking tonight?” I asked him.

  “What do you mean?”

  I rolled my eyes at his pretense. “I know how celebrity works, Tennyson.”

  “Really, so how many groupies do you bring around your family?” he asked in irritation.

  I saw his point. I had guys come to my trailer before, but I never had them around my family. It made me feel special he had invited me here, but also scared me senseless. I was not looking for a relationship and especially with a cowboy. I still found his sport barbaric.

  The band began playing another song, and the crowd went wild. Tennyson jumped up and yelled for Amylia. She walked across the table and jumped onto the floor in front of him. A spotlight landed on them, and he grabbed her around the waist as they began a very complicated dance.

  The song was about rodeos, and everyone was singing along loudly. I didn't understand why nobody else came to the dance floor. It was as if the song was only for Tennyson and Amylia. I looked at his family to see if they would give me an explanation.

  Bethany finally walked over to me. “Only the All-Around Cowboy dances to this song," she said, and I nodded. I stuck the information away for later, so I could listen to the song again. It had an infectious hook, and everyone seemed to enjoy the tempo of the song. When it ended, Tennyson removed his hat and tossed it high into the air as the crowd cheered for him.

  I couldn’t help but smile as he picked up his hat and walked toward me. “Nice,” I said to him. He nodded toward the dance floor, and I instantly tensed. "I can't do that," I assured him.

  “You won’t have to do anything,” he said.

  He took my hand and dragged me into the middle of the crowded dance floor before pulling me into his arms. I naturally raised my hands to rest on his biceps. His entire body folded around me as he bent his knees slightly and pulled my body snuggly against his. It felt so intimate until I realized all the men were dancing that way. I slowly let my hands ride up his arms and around his neck as he buried his face in mine. His hat kept us securely hidden from the prying eyes, and I couldn't believe it when I sighed.

  His arms tightened even more, and I could swear I felt him kiss my exposed skin, where my neck met my shoulder. He finally said with a thick voice, "I can feel your heart racing."

  “The whole fish out of water thing,” I said, with a shaky voice.

  “Are you sure?” he asked in a whisper.

  I couldn't answer. This man was affecting me, and I wasn't about to admit it to him. I knew with certainty someone else would be in his arms tonight if I wasn't here. I couldn't let myself fall for a guy who I had absolutely nothing in common.

  When the song ended, everyone broke apart. Tennyson raised his head but still held me tightly. “You okay?” he asked with concern.

  "Great, I feel…. I mean I have on tennis shoes…. I think people…" I finally stopped talking since I had no idea what I was trying to say.

  “Do you want to leave?” he asked, and I wanted to scream the word, yes, but I was afraid he didn't mean he would come with me.

  “I have a hand stamp; it would be sacrilege to leave.”

  He laughed and took my hand in his again and led me back to our table. Royal was pouring shots, and everyone would drink it down fast and then guzzle their beer. I gave it a try and felt like my throat set on fire.

  Everyone laughed, and Tennyson wrapped his arms around me, “Sorry, that’s a rider’s drink. It shows you something more painful than being dumped by a bull.”

  “What was it, moonshine?” I said with a raw throat.

  “Moonshine?” Tennyson asked incredulously. “We’re not hillbillies.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, and wanted to smack my big mouth again.

  “Try it again,” Royal begged, as he handed me another shot glass. “It’s an acquired taste for a gunsel.”

  “Leave her alone,” Tennyson said sternly, but I had no idea what he called me and noticed everyone staring. I wanted to feel like part of the group, so I took the glass and downed it quickly. This time I had to hold my hand over my mouth to keep it from coming back up.

  “Come on, I’ll get you a sweet drink,” Tennyson said, as he pulled me away from his laughing family.

  We headed to the bar, and he ordered a sloe-gin fizz and handed me the pink drink. I took it but was becoming worried about staying upright. Tennyson ordered another beer. He took a long sip as he stared into my eyes, I instantly took a big gulp of the sweet drink. The shots were starting to hit me, and I could hear myself beginning to giggle, and I couldn't force my brain to connect enough to stop.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, with a slight smile.

  “This whole thing is surreal,” I laughed. “I mean guys like you don’t exist in my world.”

  “Guys like me?” he pressed as if I had offended him.

  “Yeah, I mean look at the size of your buckle.” He looked down at his pants. “I would think it was due to some incompetency you were trying to hide, but then you climb on wild animals for kicks.”

  "For the money," he clarified, and I only laughed harder.

  He smiled and said, “You are going to pass out from laughter when you see my truck.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll show you,” he said and took hold of my hand again.

  We tried to make it out of the room, but he was being descended upon by adoring fans, mostly female. Everyone wanted his attention, and he soon began leading us back to his table. Nobody approached him there, and I understood there must be some code of etiquette concerning the family table.

  I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or not, I wanted to see what he was going to show me, but I was also afraid to be alone with him while feeling tipsy. The last thing my career needed was a front-page picture of me wearing nothing but chaps as some rodeo hero got his kicks.

  The thought made me laugh out loud, and Tennyson leaned into me and asked, “What’s so funny, now.”

  "I had a disconcerting image run through my head," I admitted, without any control over my mouth at all. “I saw myself wearing chaps.”

  “And nothing else, I hope,” he added, and I nodded stupidly. "I've had the same image," he admitted.

  “Then why aren’t you laughing?” I asked with a slight slur.

  “I don’t find it funny, only sexy as hell.”

  “You, Tennyson Weller,” I said as I pointed at him, “are much more dangerous than any bull. How many cowgirls have you thrown?”

  He surprised me by taking hold of both of my hands and kissing them gently. “I know the difference between riding a bull and loving a woman,” he said softly, and I felt my heart racing again. "I do both quite well, and there is nothing remotely similar be
tween the two."

  I stared at our joined hands and finally looked back at his eyes and asked, “Why am I here?”

  “You tell me,” he said without a smile.

  “You asked me to come,” I pointed out.

  “And you came, why?”

  I looked around the room, and nothing felt familiar, except Tennyson. He felt…warm and safe. “I don’t let people get close because they always want something from me. I guess you didn’t give me the impression you wanted anything.”

  “You’re wrong, Sweetheart. I want something.”

  I felt tears sting my eyes and I bit my lip as I nodded in understanding. He wanted someone in his bed and thought I would be an easy target. I was so stupid and fell for it. He reached up to wipe my tears away, but I pulled back out of his reach. "Don't touch me," I warned him.

  “Just let me explain,” he begged.

  “No need, I have to go,” I said as I stood, and the room began to spin. “Shit,” I yelled loudly and sat back down, “You got me drunk.”

  “If you want to go, I’ll take you. I’m not the kind of guy who lets a girl leave alone.”

  “And I’m sure you’re not the kind of guy who lets a girl sleep all alone in her big, scary bed either,” I said harshly.

  His jaw tightened, and I could tell I was making him angry. "I have a big day tomorrow, so I doubt date rape will be on my agenda tonight."

  “Live to the fullest, remember?”

  "Look around, Pumpkin; if I wanted an easy lay I could have my pick. I want to get to know you. That is what I want from you. Why are you so sure I only want to screw you?"

  I opened my mouth to answer, but I had to admit I didn’t have one. He hadn’t been disrespectful to me; he had been sweet and tender. “I have to be careful, the press can be brutal,” I finally said.

  The band began playing another slow song, and Tennyson led me to the dance floor again. This time I melted right into him. I was dizzy, but I wasn’t so sure it was from the alcohol. I recognized the song playing, only without the western edge, and when the band sang, you want a man with a slow hand, you want a lover with an easy touch, I thought my entire body was going to explode. When he kissed my neck, I sighed, and he began making his way with kisses to my ear.