by Cat Johnson
As a couple of other riders walked past, Slade lowered his voice so much, Mustang had to lean closer to hear him. “Did you have to take her like that? You know. There. And so rough? Maybe she didn’t want to do that.”
What? Mustang didn’t get to do what he’d done with Jenna last night as often as he’d like, but he still had done it before, and with Slade right there along for the ride, so what was his problem now?
Mustang suspected this had nothing to do with what Mustang had done with Jenna, and everything to do with how Slade felt about it.
This was all bullshit and Mustang knew it. Slade had never cared in the past when Mustang slid in anywhere, whether it was right after him, or before him, or at the same time for that matter.
Mustang could see Slade’s real problem was that he was falling for Jenna, but he had a feeling not even a charging bull could get Slade to admit that.
In what he thought was an appropriately discreet volume, Mustang hissed, “Slade, I asked her first and she said okay. What more did you want me to do? Besides that, judging by how hard she came from it, she liked it just fine. The harder and faster the better, apparently.”
“Shh!” Slade glanced around them. He looked like he was resisting the urge to punch Mustang as he set his jaw and gritted out, “Stop saying shit like that about her.”
Mustang laughed, which turned Slade’s face a lovely shade of angry red. Oh, yeah. Slade was falling hard and fast, and Mustang had every intention of torturing him on the way down.
“Okay. Then what do you want me to say?” Mustang lowered his voice again and decided to push Slade a little further, just for fun. “Maybe you want me to start talking in code now. Here, how’s this? Since she said she’d already had her virgin rosebud deflowered before we got to her, I figured it was okay if I fully enjoyed a taste of her forbidden fruit. There. Was that better? But wait, I’m mixing my, what are they called? Metaphors. That’s it. Would that particular part of Jenna’s anatomy be referred to as a fruit or a flower, do you think?”
The look on Slade’s face at that question made Mustang glad he used to sneak a peek into his mother’s romance novels back when he was a kid so he could be so creative in his torture.
“You can be such an ass. That shit is no better so just shut the hell up about the whole thing.” Slade scowled.
Mustang grinned. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d like that either. Now, you better get over yourself because I left a ticket for Jenna at the box office. She promised she’s going to be here tonight and I intend on taking full advantage of what is most likely our last night with her. Got it?”
If Mustang’s theory was correct and Slade had it bad for Jenna, things were only going to go downhill for their happy little threesome. If he thought Slade was cranky now, Mustang could just imagine how unbearable he was going to be when Jenna left for New York and they both went home for the off-season.
It was going to be one hell of a long, horrible drive back home to Texas with a pissy Slade riding shotgun in the passenger seat.
Chase Reese walked by with his usual schoolboy smile and friendly greeting for them both and Mustang watched Slade’s face turn even stonier than it had been before. In fact, he even thought he heard a low growl rumbling in Slade’s chest.
Mustang grinned. The poor kid had no idea what he’d done. That by simply buying a few shots for a pretty woman at a bar he’d probably made an enemy for life. Yup, Slade had it bad, and if it didn’t make him so damn cranky, Mustang would really enjoy watching the mighty one fall. But right now, Mustang had a bull ride to worry about. “I’m going on out.”
“Fine.”
“You coming?”
“No.”
All righty, then. Mustang left his crabby friend licking his wounds in the locker room and headed out to behind the chutes, keeping half an eye out for Jenna in the stands.
He kept looking for her in the VIP box, but by the time the rides started, she still hadn’t appeared, and Mustang had to wonder, maybe Slade wasn’t crazy. Maybe they had pushed her too far last night and she was avoiding them.
After having spent an entire season working to avoid the day after confrontation with his and Slade’s conquests at all costs, the irony of the thought of Jenna dodging them was definitely not lost on Mustang.
Mustang took one more wistful look at the empty seat in the VIP box and then went to get his bull rope.
Chapter Seventeen
“Hey, there, beautiful! When did you sneak in here?” Chase swung up on the railing in front of Jenna’s seat, grinning wide.
Jenna groaned. “I know, I’m really late. I had a dinner I couldn’t miss. I got here as soon as I could.”
“Your friends aren’t with you? The guys will be very disappointed.”
Jenna laughed. “I am sure they will be. But sorry, I didn’t tell them I was coming.”
“The secret book?” Chase lowered his voice conspiratorially.
“Yeah.”
Something happening in the center of the arena caught Jenna’s attention. Chase followed her gaze then looked back to her. “What’s got you frowning like that, beautiful?”
Jenna hadn’t realized she had been frowning. She’d have to try and remember to stop doing that before she got wrinkles.
“What’s happening out there?” Jenna nodded in the direction of the line of riders forming in the middle of the arena. “Is this like an awards ceremony?”
Chase laughed. “No. It’s the draft. The top fifteen riders get to pick which bulls they want to ride for the short go in the championship round. I can’t stay here too long, I gotta go get on that line myself. I just wanted to say hello.”
She spotted Slade at the head of the line. Saying hello was more than Slade had bothered to do. Even if she had arrived late, you’d still think he and Mustang would have at least waved at her or something. They must have noticed her eventual arrival. Chase had.
Smothering a pout at that, Jenna mustered a smile for Chase. “Thanks. That’s sweet of you. But I thought you guys were assigned what bulls you rode.”
“That’s called the draw, but that’s for the long round. For the short round, the top riders get to choose.”
Hmm. Made sense. Kind of. “So you’d want to choose the easiest bull so you don’t fall off, right?”
Chase looked at her like she’d grown another head. “Heck no! You try and pick the rankest bull so you’ll get a higher score. The judges don’t give points for easy.”
“Ah.” This sport was way more complicated than she’d first thought. In fact, she’d probably done the stupidest thing ever by making her hero a bull rider, not that her cowboy book would ever see the light of day. She was seriously considering scrapping the entire project.
But if she did that, then what? If she stopped being a writer, what would she be? Sure she designed graphics on the side to make some extra money, but her heart was in writing…or at least it used to be.
Jenna felt her brow furrow again at that thought and resisted the urge to physically smooth the wrinkles away with one hand. Instead, she looked up at Chase when she remembered he had to ride two bulls tonight to win Rookie of the Year. “Did you already ride tonight?”
His face nearly glowed as he answered. “Yes, ma’am. I got an eighty-nine.”
She smiled, pretending like she knew what that number meant. “Good for you! You have to ride one more to get that buckle, right?”
Chase grinned wide. “Yup. Just got to ride one in the short go.”
“But wait…then you don’t want to pick a hard bull in the draw, I mean draft. Wouldn’t you want to pick an easy bull so you have a better chance of staying on?”
Chase rolled his eyes. “No bulls in the short go of the championships are easy, Jenna. These are the rankest bulls on the circuit. Some of them are up for Bull of the Year.”
Bull of the Year? Jenna smothered a laugh at that revelation. Then she stifled the fear that the more she learned, the more she realized she didn’
t know.
“Just be careful, okay? Don’t choose one that’s too rank.” And if that wasn’t the most god-awful word she’d ever heard, she didn’t know what was, but her use of it earned her a smile from Chase.
“I won’t, Jenna. Promise. Besides, the top guys get to choose first and they’ll get the rankest bulls before I even get up there.” He glanced at the center of the arena. “I’m gonna have to go but you know what would make me ride a whole lot better?”
Suspicious, Jenna asked doubtfully, “No. What would that be?”
“A kiss from the prettiest girl here.”
How could a guy look so innocent and yet so sinful at the same time? But given how sweetly he’d asked, how could she say no?
Besides, the way Slade and Mustang were ignoring her, it wasn’t as if they were acting like they cared what she did or with whom, even after all they’d done together the night before. Her cheeks heated at the memory of Slade beneath her, sliding in while Mustang was behind, buried deep inside her...
Jenna shook that memory away. “Okay, but just a quick one. On the cheek,” she added quickly.
“Sounds good!” Chase bent closer as Jenna leaned forward, but her aim was off and not helped by Chase turning his head to insure it would be, and the kiss landed smack on his lips.
Jenna’s face felt on fire as she peered around to see who’d noticed as Chase jumped down to the ground, grinning. “Now, I’ll definitely win Rookie of the Year.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Rolling her eyes, she sent him off to pick his bull with a parting, “Glad I could help.”
———
As the first place ranked rider bantered with the announcer and discussed which bull he’d be choosing for the short round, Slade made the huge mistake of letting his gaze stray to the stands.
Scowling at what he saw, Slade said, “Jenna’s here.”
Mustang, in line two riders behind Slade, spun to look. “I’ve been checking for her all night and she wasn’t there.
“She’s here now.”
Mustang squinted at the stands. “Where is she?”
Slade snorted out a bitter laugh. “Right behind Chase Reese, that’s where.”
“What?” Mustang must have finally spotted her too, just as Chase leaned in and kissed her. “I’ll be damned. Look at that! This kid doesn’t give up, does he?”
“The way she’s encouraging him, why should he give up?” Slade guessed Chase would be the one in Jenna’s big bed that night. At that thought, he wondered angrily if the maid had changed Jenna’s lube-stained sheets or if Chase would have to wallow in them dirty.
Chase, done kissing Jenna apparently, ran to the center of the arena and took his place near the back of the line just as it was Slade’s turn to step up onto the announcer’s platform and pick his bull.
“Slade Bower! You came into this competition ranked number three in the world, you’re going into the championship round of the season finals in the number two position. Given how tight the standings are, the number one position is up for grabs and within reach for you. You have experience with some of the bulls in this draft. Which one will you choose tonight?”
A microphone was thrust in front of his face as the announcer angled the list of fifteen bulls toward Slade, not that he needed to see it. Only one bull had been crossed off the list as yet, the bull the number one rider had chosen.
Slade had studied the list back in the locker room, and had made a decision there, but he didn’t say the name he’d circled on his own list. Instead, he heard himself say, “I’ll take Ballbreaker.”
“Ballbreaker! That’s a bold choice, Slade. That bull is unridden after eighteen times out. He bucked off the number one rider the first night of this series.”
“Yes, sir.”
The announcer laughed. “Okay, then. Slade Bower takes Ballbreaker.”
Slade tipped his hat, turned and walked back down the steps, noticing the surprised look on Mustang’s face.
“Are you nuts?” Mustang hissed as Slade passed.
He paused, mid step. “Sorry, did you want him?”
Mustang frowned. “Hell no!” Then Mustang was called up to the platform and the announcer’s banter for the crowd continued.
His choice made, Slade had nothing left to do now but wait for the remaining riders to choose. Oh, yeah, and he had to ride Ballbreaker to the buzzer. Piece of cake.
Slade walked past the riders at the end of the line, including Chase. He paused at what he saw. “You’ve got lipstick on your face.”
The rookie didn’t even have the sense to look ashamed. Instead, Chase wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned at Slade. “Thanks.”
Slade grunted his response to the kid’s thanks, but he was pretty sure what came out sounded more like a growl.
Chapter Eighteen
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
Slade frowned at Mustang. “What are you talking about?”
“Ballbreaker! What the hell, Slade? What about One-Night Stand? He was in the draft for the short round, you’ve already ridden him, and you got a ninety point score on him.”
Some days there was just no making Mustang happy. Slade sighed. “Yeah, well, you should be happy, because I didn’t pick him in the draft, you could. So now you have him and you can get the high score.”
Mustang shook his head. “I don’t know what you are out to prove.”
The announcer’s voice captured Slade’s attention. “Chase Reese, up for Rookie of the Year, aboard Good Night Ladies.”
Slade frowned, all of his concentration focused on the rookie climbing up onto the bucking chute. “I’m not out to prove nothing. Now shut up. I’m trying to watch.”
Mustang followed the direction of Slade’s gaze. “This is about Chase? Are you freaking crazy?”
Far more interested in watching the bastard who had been kissing Jenna ride, Slade didn’t answer, but instead jumped up on the rail to get a better look.
Finally, thankfully, off of the topic of Slade’s choice of bulls for a second, Mustang climbed up next to him as the gate opened and bull and rider took off. “Chase better dress that ride up a bit if he wants anything higher than an eighty the way that bull is bucking tonight.”
“Maybe he should have chosen a better bull.” Slade raised a brow and shot a look at Mustang.
Mustang snorted. “You mean like Ballbreaker?”
Slade shrugged.
“The score doesn’t matter anyway. If he covers the ride, he wins the rookie buckle,” Mustang pointed out.
Focused on the action in the arena, Slade tuned out Mustang as the bull continued to spin into Chase’s hand.
Getting into the kid’s ride, Mustang started a running commentary next to Slade. He started out soft enough but ended up shouting, annoying Slade even more. “The bull’s slowing down. Spur him, Chase! Yeah, that’s it.” Mustang slapped Slade in the arm. “Chase looks great! The kid’s doing everything right.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Slade’s competitive side kicked in as Chase maintained textbook form, spurring the bull with his outside leg to keep him rounding to the right, intentionally showing a little daylight between his leg and the bull to dress up the ride. The rookie looked perfect, right until the buzzer when he jumped down, landing on his feet with a grin.
Yup, Chase was the kind who always landed on his feet. Slade hated that.
“Eighty-eight point five!” the arena announcer told the crowd.
“Ooo wee! That’s a good score.”
“Yeah,” Slade grumbled. “Considering it was the easiest bull in the draft.” And the damn kid didn’t even have to get dirty to earn it.
“No bulls in the short round are easy. You know that. Good Night Ladies was just having a bad night, but Chase pulled it off. You have to hand it to him.”
Slade turned away from the arena while next to him Mustang kept rambling about Chase. Slade ignored him mostly until Mustang raised an arm and waved. “Hey, Slade. J
enna’s waving at us.”
Jenna. Great. She was probably waving at Chase. “Yeah. So?”
“Since we don’t have time to say hello to her before we ride, it might be nice if you waved back.” Mustang frowned at him.
Slade climbed down from the rail, pointedly not looking in Jenna’s direction. “I’m going to stretch.”
Mustang climbed down next to him, shaking his head. “I seriously hope that Ballbreaker bucks this bad mood out you.”
As Slade spotted Chase running over to Jenna’s seat in the stands and saw her jump up to hug him he decided even Ballbreaker wasn’t up to that monumental task.
The short round in the finals always went fast. Being the top fifteen riders, riding the top bulls of the season, there was no messing around in the chutes. Everyone, man and beast, just jumped in and got right down to business.
In what felt like mere minutes, the thirteen other riders, including Mustang, had ridden, and it was Slade’s turn in the chute.
“Well folks, Slade Bower started out the season wearing a number nine on his back after placing ninth in the world last season. He’s ridden his way up to begin this championship series in the number three position for the season and the number two spot this championship, and if he can get a qualified ride in the short round tonight, it could earn him a number one on his vest when we come back next year. But standing in his way is Ballbreaker. Unridden after eighteen times out, this bull bested Slade’s good friend, Mustang Jackson, in Kansas City last week.”
Slade worked to tune out his surroundings, both the echoing voice of the announcer and the fact that Jenna, whose lipstick had been smeared all over Chase Reese’s mouth, was seated not far from him, directly behind the chutes.
As Slade climbed up onto the rails of the bucking chute, Mustang was right there next to him.
Still wearing his dust-covered vest from jumping off One-Night Stand at the buzzer after a successful ride, Mustang continued reviewing everything he’d already battered into Slade’s brain since the moment Slade had picked Ballbreaker in the draft. “Remember, this bull keeps changing it up. He’ll go right first, but then he’ll reverse and go left, then he bucks straight out. That’s what you have to worry about. The way he snaps his back…”
