Breene, K F - Jessica Brodie Diaries 01

by Back in the Saddle (v5. 0)

  “I’ll be seein’ you around, darlin.”

  My foot took an involuntary step back with the force of his glower, catching the bench, throwing my balance off kilter. As I teetered, arms wind-milling, Adam and William were already in action.

  As Adam said, “that about does it—“ they had him clutched between them, jerking him around by the arms and shirt, forcing him roughly down the stairs.

  A mountain stepped in front of me, then, but I couldn’t marvel at its size. I was toppling, heading backward in what I knew, I just knew, would hurt something awful.

  Chapter Six

  “Hang on there—“ The smaller man grabbed me around the waist, using all his strength of keep me from somersaulting end-over-end down the steps.

  “Jessica!”

  That screech could only belong to Candace.

  Sure enough, another, softer body barreled into my back, helping the smaller man with momentum if not strength. Arms like thick cables despite his small stature, he got me on my feet, his steadying hand welcomed.

  As I teetered to a stop, I saw one and a half things. The first was the mountain range. And it was huge.

  Six-foot-four at least, he towered over me. Huge broad back, tree trunk arms supporting more than one tattoo, and not an ounce of fat that I could see, he was a giant brick of solid muscle.

  Behind him was the half of crowd, shifting and sticking hands in pockets, left in Dusty’s wake. The other half was probably there, too, but damned if I could see them around the mammoth in front of me.

  The boys got a look at him and shrugged. They lost the desire to fight almost immediately, choosing instead to skulk off down the stands. I didn’t blame them.

  Andre-the-freaking-Giant turned to me. “You alright? We wasn’t gonna let him hurt ya.”

  I smiled in relief. “Thanks a million! I really appreciate it!” Then, thinking I might offend my crew, I added, “We definitely needed the numbers. Candace and I wouldn’t have been much help, and these guys were only three against five. Or was it six?”

  The giant looked around at the guys I came with. Then the littler dude stepped up, smiling like the whole thing was some big joke. Little did he know, the joke was the two of them standing side-by-side. A short, wiry guy and a thick tree trunk of a man. I was sure there was a cartoon somewhere made of this pair.

  The little guy stuck out his hand. “Hi. My name’s Clayton. People call me Ty.”

  He had a lower voice than I would have thought. It was quite low, actually. No accent, either. He had trimmed eyebrows, a short nose that had been broken a couple times and not set properly, and dark brown eyes. His hair looked shaggy but it was hard to tell because he had a Yankees ball cap on.

  “Oh, hi. My name is...ah...Jessica.” I smiled and sighed. “Sorry, my adrenaline is up.”

  He smiled back, showing a pretty smile marred by a couple chipped teeth. “No harm, Jessica.”

  He scanned the area, completely at ease. His gaze touched each of the boys, Sara for a half second longer, then lingered on Candace.

  “Oh sorry, these are my friends...”

  Ty nodded with each introduction, but paid special attention to Candace, who responded with an embarrassed look at the ground. I smirked.

  Ty turned to the mountain. “This is Moose. Well, his real name is Carl, but we call him Moose.”

  “Did you say Carl, or Lennie?” I quipped, then instantly regretted it. I hoped no one would catch on that Lennie was the large, lumbering “Of Mice and Men” character that had the strength of three men but the brains of a flower pot.

  Ty looked at me with a furrowed face.

  Please don’t get the reference. Please don’t get the reference!

  JP, jelly to my peanut butter, tried to stifle his chuckle so as not to give me away, but Ty caught it. He looked back at Moose for two beats, before he doubled over, screaming with laughter. His body heaved, hands on his stomach, guffawing in the stands. Everyone else, not having got the joke—story of my life—adopted the crooked grins and random chuckles usual when someone was laughing so hard tears were coming out of his eyes.

  After a moment, when Ty got his bearings, he straightened up, took a look at Moose, was received with a “What’d I miss?” and then doubled over again.

  “What’s up?” Adam asked, coming up the bleachers, Apollo following along behind.

  Ty just pointed at me, shook his head, and said, “Better watch her.”

  The barrel racing was finished and people were getting ready for the next event, which was bull riding. Judging by the crowd, this was the highlight of the day.

  Adam, Moose and lastly Apollo followed Ty down the stands. I walked to JP and was just about to say a big thank you to all the boys when Ty yelled up, in a thick, cartoon-like accent, “Hey! Ain’t y’all cumin’?”

  All four of the retreating men stopped at ground level. Adam asked, “Y’all want to watch the bull fights from our gate? Ty here is gonna ride.”

  I shot a startled glance at lit up faces. Dave looked like he was going to pee himself he was so excited. Candace looked really red, (haha!) and JP was looking at me intensely.

  Before I could ask JP why the scrutiny, we heard, “I still owe you a beer.”

  My feet were moving before my brain could process the wonderful tickle down my spine. Which was actually bad news, because while it felt like I was floating, what I was actually doing was stumbling. Apparently the day would not end before I bounced down a flight of steps.

  After a walk in which JP basically escorted me like a senior citizen with a cane, the procession stopped beside a white, new-looking trailer attached to a gigantic, shiny, midnight-blue truck. One of the truck tires came up to my mid-thigh! I had seen a lot of this sort of thing in the parking lot, but not quite this glossy. Did rich rednecks exist?

  “Like it?” Apollo asked beside me as the others wandered toward the arena fence.

  “Uh...it’s fine. I dunno. Why?”

  He turned his gaze on me. “It looked like you were inspecting the truck.”

  “Oh. Well, it’s big. Tall, I mean. You know, the tires. Is there a reason it is this big? Tall? How do people actually get into it?”

  “Very carefully.” He smirked.

  “How old are you?” I asked with sarcasm.

  He looked surprised and shuffled his feet.

  “Because of that joke, I mean,” I said in a hurry. I didn’t want the guy thinking I was planning to stalk him or anything. I was, but I didn’t want to be anticipated. “My grandparents used that one all the time...”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Ah. Got it. Yeah, mine did, too. Guess it fits.”

  “Is this your trailer?”

  “Yup.”

  “It’s nice. Big. It looks luxurious.”

  “Luxurious?”

  “Yeah, like on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, Country addition. It looks like a yacht on wheels.”

  He laughed again and grabbed my hand, starting toward it.

  I soared at his touch! His hand was course, but gentle. In size, it was like a Kodak Grizzly bear paw compared to mine. What affected me most was the electric current running through his skin, my hand, and directly into my mid-section, collecting in a puddle of sex in my groin. My lady bits answered with a purr.

  With a fluttering stomach, I allowed him to lead, stopping shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the trailer door. He looked at me with a huge smile, as if I was still included in the joke, his flawless features closer than they had yet been.

  My brain shut off, allowing my animalistic senses to fully feel the connection that body contact afforded. I was mesmerized. All my focus was on him; on his impossibly broad, beefy shoulders; on the muscles moving in his arm as he held my hand; on his deep blue, glittering eyes.

  His brow scrunched up as his smile slipped, his eyes roaming my face. The deep blue became hypnotizing as they looked deeply into mine. Into me. They started to pull me in, reaching ever deeper into the center of m
y being. It felt like he physically clutched my soul with his dominating presence. The world condensed into that one moment, my spectra of view down to this one person and the proximity of his radiating body.

  I got light-headed. My feet felt like they were lifting off the ground. The only things I could focus on was that touch. His hand on mine. The searing heat in my groin. The angel kisses on my heart. The overwhelming urge to fall into him.

  His hand gently squeezing now. Shaking slightly?

  Suddenly, without warning, a void replaced feelings so powerful I didn’t feel grounded. Cold air replaced his warm hand. Sunlight replaced his well-built body. It was like the world went from an explosion of color, to white-washed.

  He had stepped away, and was now looking around us distractedly. The hand that had been holding mine was in his pocket. He cleared this throat and wiped his nose.

  Well, that killed the mood.

  I looked around us, too, figuring someone called his name or had a damn good reason for ruining the perfect moment. To my horror, I didn’t see anything or anyone with a vengeful vendetta. I blinked a couple times, and then shook my head like a wet dog wanting to be dry.

  Then I laughed. I couldn’t help it! What just happened was just so intense! I wasn’t even sorry it ended. Not really. Having never felt anything like that before, I almost vowed to give up drinking. In the next thought, I almost vowed to drink forever if I would feel that over and over when I got close to him.

  Chuckles still coming, the seriousness of life and my current situation completely forgotten, I noticed that he was now looking at me with the cutest lopsided smile I have ever seen. He looked half-way between an embarrassed little boy and a confident, grown man. It was so odd and so endearing that I laughed all the harder, jubilant. Loving the crazy awkwardness of the situation.

  I was so far out of my league it wasn’t funny. But guess what, those were thoughts for L.A.. Here, in Texas, at a rodeo with a bunch of cowboys, how could I possibly give two shits, when fitting in would be as easy as keeping a tan in Ireland.

  I laughed all the harder; big body wracking chuckles. Not ladylike, but I didn't care. I wiped the streaming tears out of my eyes, and tried to gain control. I leaned up against the trailer and fanned my face with a sweaty hand.

  I looked over at William with a Please forgive me! smile. He smiled back and gestured for me to enter the trailer ahead of him. No contact. Safer.

  “Willie, it’s about t—“

  Adam was cut off by a booming voice over the loud speaker.

  “We might have to continue this another time. The bull riding is about to begin,” William said as he motioned for me to follow him to the side of the ring.

  Easily hiding my disappointment in a blasé attitude, I moseyed over to Candace, who was waiting for me with an excited smile. “Ty is going to ride! Isn’t he cute?”

  “What is with the nickname? How does one go from Clayton…to Ty?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t get to talk to him very long ‘cause he had to go ride. He drew one of Davies’s bulls. It looked like he was getting really nervous. They are sure big. I hope he’s okay.” She turned back to the arena.

  “S’cuse me, ladies?" William stepped closer to the arena fence, "I thought I might talk you through what bull riding is about. Just so you don’t get the wrong idea about it.”

  In reality, I didn’t much care, but to him, I was all ears. And body parts if he wanted to demonstrate…

  “Why is your face red?” Candace asked me with a mother’s concern. “Are you hot? Do you want some shade from the trailer? I can move over..."

  “If you can see,” William, head turned toward the rider on a bull, missed the naughty thoughts on my face. “Right now the rider is getting ready in the chute. He sits on the bull and wraps his hand into the bull rope.”

  “Chute, as in…slide?” I asked, not quite sure how the rider and bull got from their makeshift prison into the spacious arena.

  William turned his whole body and stared down at me for a blank-faced moment.

  “Yeah, that was a dumb question, my bad.”

  “I’ll say,” Adam mumbled from the other side of William, watching the rider get ready.

  “A chute can be a slide, yes.” William‘s eyes sparkled while his words mocked. “Also a cascade, channel, shaft…”

  “I said it was a dumb question—“

  William laughed, turning back. “Okay, here we go.”

  Someone yelled, followed by a loud, metallic grate. The fence swung into the arena, allowing the confined beast to burst out into the space with a weirdly bouncing cowboy on his back.

  “Why the hand in the air?” I asked over the din.

  The hand not roped in to the bull’s back was high up, over his head, sometimes swinging, sometimes knifing the air.

  “Balance,” William said, relaxing somewhat against the fence.

  “He doesn’t have much of it. He won’t make—“ Adam stopped talking as the cowboy whipped down, over the bull’s back, then sorta tumbled off and landed flat on his back.

  “Gate’s dirty, Jessica, and you are wearing white!”

  I ignored Candace as the cowboy scrambled up and hightailed it to the side of the enclosure. The bull, rid of his charge, did a couple more jumps before it got bored and jogged to another gate newly opened. That was probably the way back to his pen.

  “That was a pretty anti-climactic ride, but it gives me an opportunity to talk about points." William turned to face me again.

  Speak away, good sir, while I ogle you! I stared at his handsome face, pretending to be in rapt attention.

  “The judges will give points to the rider based on the style of the ride; how in sync the rider was with the bull, if he was in balance, things like that. The bull gets points for how hard a ride they gave the rider. If they throw the rider off before eight seconds, they give the bull points for that. So the rider gets extra points if he stays on a hard bull.”

  “So he didn’t do too well with points,” I surmised, still staring.

  “No, and neither did the bull for that ride.”

  “Um hum…” I was leaning against the gate, fist under my chin, gawking for all I was worth. To continue my pleasant occupation, I asked, “And how come you don’t ride?”

  Every line in William’s body tensed. He took a small step back from my stare. “I used to. You have to understand—the smaller riders have it better. The best bull riders have been smaller men. They have a smaller center of gravity for the bull to whip around. It's hard to explain if you don’t know the sport...”

  “Probably dangerous, too, right? And you have all your breeding and stuff going on…”

  “Correct,” William said grudgingly. “Excuse me.”

  I got a hard glare from Adam before he shook his head and looked back toward the chute.

  “What’d I say?” I wondered quietly to Candace. “That’s just common sense, right?”

  “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t bring that up anymore.”

  “Well obviously yeah. But now I’m curious…”

  The gate swung open. Everyone leaned forward….

  Nothing happened. The bull was in a Zen trance. It didn’t mind the crowd, didn’t care about the minuscule weight of a small statured rider, and didn’t feel like running around a dusty arena in front of a bunch of yahoos! I totally got where it was coming from.

  “Now they are going to prod it,” Candace whispered.

  “What does that mean?”

  My eyes following a lanky man in a giant cowboy hat as he walked up to the small enclosure with the bull. He carefully raised a long stick and threaded it through the bars. The crowd directly around him peeled away, giving him room to work.

  “Prodding means they’re going to—“

  I could hear the sound of an angry bee right before the bull jolted, bumping forward and hitting its horns against the metal. A second prod had the bull moving all around, emitting loud, angry, male cow sounds. M
oooooorrrrrrrrrraaaaahhhhhhh!!! Bull speak for, “I am going to plot revenge and kill you all just as soon as I get out of this jail cell!”

  This time, ripped out of its Zen trance, the bull blazed out of the gate, flying around the oval space with hooves flying. The cowboy, hand up, body more orchestrated than the last guy, was hanging on for dear life.

  William and Adam were both leaning against the ring yelling “C’mon! C’mon! Almost got it! Almost got it! HANG ON!”

  I swear, men would scream encouragement at anything. In a bar watching a football game it was like a pack of angry, hairy cheerleaders yelling hoarsely for “their” team to perform.

  I bet dudes would go around life yelling for performance if they could get away with it: “Yeah, way to pack those f**king groceries! In-the-bag!” Or, “C’mon—wash the car, man! You missed a spot! Damn it! You missed—ah, man! It’s right there! Are you BLIND?! UN-be-leave-able!”

  Chuckling to myself, a buzzer sounded from the judges two-level podium. Everybody cheered. But we weren’t done yet. The bull was pissed and eight seconds didn’t mean jack now that it's anger was up.

  The cowboy untied his hand, which was a hasty, frantic endeavor, and threw a leg over the bull’s back. He would try for a mid-air dismount.

  It worked out to be a mid-air fling, his body sailing head-over-ass onto the ground.

  “Ouch,” I commented.

  The cowboy scrambled up in a wave of dust and starting running. Right for us!

  “Oh my God, not this way!” I shouted, waving my arms in mayday.

  The rider must have heard me, or realized the bull had better things to do than chase him, because one harried look over his shoulder had him slowing down and changing his flight plan off to the right.

  “Jesus,” I breathed with my hands on my hips. “That was close, huh?”

  “Not this way?” Adam asked with a smirk, leaning on the fence so he could look at me around William.

  I looked at Adam closely for the first time. He had dark hair and eyes and a chiseled face. He wasn’t as good looking at William, although not many men were, but he was striking. Where William had a manly, ruggedly handsome face, Adam had more of a magazine model’s airbrushed appearance. He wasn’t effeminate by any stretch of the imagination, but he was textbook good looking with straight features, brooding brown eyes, and almost baby-faced characteristics. He would be the next boy-toy if he were in the movies. Harder for the older dames to grab a hold of, but young women and g*y men would go crazy.