Rodeo: A Bad Boy Romance (FMX Bros Book 2)

by Tess Oliver

  “Please, Parker, just go.”

  Max shook me hard enough to snap my head back on my neck.

  I stared up at him. “Fuck you, you elephant-sized douche bag, let me go.” My frustration was starting to cloud my reasoning. Insulting him just made him more pissed. My shoes stuttered across the cement floor as he dragged me by the shirt through the room. He tossed me out into the hallway. My body smacked the opposite wall and a metal electrical box. I dropped to the floor. Cole and Denver raced over and helped me to my feet.

  “Christ, Rodeo,” Denver muttered, “you just never know when to keep your big mouth shut.”

  Cole grabbed my arm. “Let’s blow this place before you get the urge to turn around and kick Gigantor in the knee or something stupid.”

  I glanced back but couldn’t see Sayler behind the bouncer as he stood in the doorway watching to make sure we left the bar.

  I gritted my teeth in anger as Cole and Denver pulled me clear of the place. I yanked my arm free from Cole’s grasp, and we headed to his truck in silence. I looked back at the club. The hulk had followed us out to make sure we got in and drove off.

  “Fuck you, you fucking ugly side of beef,” I yelled back at him. I kicked the tire of Cole’s truck, slamming my toes good, before climbing into the passenger seat.

  Denver crawled into the backseat, and Cole started the truck and pulled out of the lot.

  He looked over at me. “What the fucking hell just happened in there? Who was that girl?”

  I scooted down in the seat and stared out the window. “Her name’s Sayler. I dated her back in high school, back in Montana.”

  “From the way you were acting, it seems like maybe you still haven’t gotten over her,” Denver said from the back. “How come you’ve never mentioned her before?”

  “I have.” I watched the street lights and houses and stores melt into a blur as we drove along the main road.

  “Wait,” Cole said. “Is she the one? The ‘hometown girl who had been the only good thing about Montana’?”

  “That’s her. That’s Sayler.”

  Chapter 2

  Sayler

  I waited for Shawna at the end of the dark corridor. Cold air seeped in beneath the emergency exit door, and I zipped shut my sweatshirt. The manager was in the back office counting his take for the night. No doubt, Max was hovering over him like a loyal bodyguard. My tips for the night had been dismal. After the incident with Parker, I just couldn’t work up enough enthusiasm to whip the spectators into a tip giving mood. A tangled mix of emotions had shot through me when I’d looked down from the stage into Parker’s shocked face. Embarrassment was at the top of the list. But then I was pissed that he was being so judgmental. He had no idea what I was going through, and it wasn’t as if he’d only made good decisions all his life. Growing up, he’d found himself in big trouble more than once. He’d given both his parents plenty of gray hairs.

  Still, seeing him had also stirred up some of the feelings I’d had for him. Together, the two of us had been like dynamite and fire. Even though we had remained friends, we’d come to the sad conclusion that we weren’t good for each other. Trouble always followed us, and we were both skilled at making bad decisions, a talent that had stayed with me well into adulthood.

  Parker had started getting heavy into motocross and decided to move to California where the tracks weren’t buried in snow for a third of the year. I was heartbroken to see him leave Montana, but I knew he’d do well wherever he went. He was completely fearless, and setbacks only made him stronger.

  Before Parker left Montana, he’d tried hard to convince me that Kurt was not for me. It turned out he’d been right. But I’d been desperate to get out of my parents’ house, and Kurt had seemed like the best choice at the time. Grave, horrible mistake but not surprising given my propensity for bad decisions.

  Shawna came rushing out of the dressing room pulling her jacket up over her shoulders and mumbling something about being late to meet her boyfriend. Shawna was someone who was always hurrying and always late for something. We’d met on Facebook through some common friends, and she’d been the one to let me know about the dancer’s position at the club.

  I’d been beyond desperation when it came to my financial situation, and I needed a good place to hide, and not just from my ex in Montana, who seemed determined to ruin my life even though I was no longer a part of his. Now, another terrible decision had sent me into hiding from a man who posed a far greater threat than Kurt.

  Shawna swept past me in her usual cloud of perfume. I sneezed once and trotted behind her toward the door. “Max,” Shawna called across the empty barroom, “come let us out. I’m in a hurry.”

  Max plodded over like a giant sloth, grinning about Shawna’s usual claim to be in a hurry.

  “Shawna, if you’re in too big of a rush, I can walk to the bus stop,” I said.

  She waved off the suggestion. “It’s no problem. Your place is on the way.” My place was a cozy sounding term for a forty year old trailer set in what had to be the shabbiest mobile home park in the world. Even the small patches of green in the lot of fissure riddled asphalt were made of cheap, fake grass. But the rent was only two hundred a month, probably too much for a trailer that leaned badly to one side and had a kitchen sink that spurted more rust than water. I had all my belongings situated on what I referred to as the ‘south side’ of the trailer. And if I didn’t put them there on purpose, gravity eventually pulled them that direction.

  A truck was parked out on the road. Halfway to Shawna’s car, I noticed a tall figure climb out of the driver’s seat. I knew by the way he walked with his shoulders hunched forward and his hands in the pockets of his jeans that it was Parker. He walked toward us.

  “Isn’t that the guy who burst into the dressing room tonight? The one you knew from back home?”

  “Yeah,” I said quietly. “That’s him.”

  “Well, sweetie, I’d love to stick around so you can chat, but I really need to get going.”

  “Right. I’ll let him know.”

  We reached Shawna’s car just as Parker stepped up to it. “I can’t stay and talk. Shawna’s giving me a ride home, and she’s in a hurry.”

  “I’ll give you a ride home . . . if you want.” It was rare for Parker to sound unsure of himself.

  I stared at him. He was still the tall, thin guy from high school but his shoulders and, for that matter, the rest of him had filled out to manly proportions. His green eyes still gleamed with that cocky attitude that always seemed to get him in trouble. And he still looked like that guy who was sort of lost in the world and hoping someday he’d find his way. It was that small slice of vulnerability that I’d always found so great about him. But he rarely let it show.

  Shawna cleared her throat to move me along in my decision.

  “Parker can take me home. Thanks, Shawna. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She jumped in her car, and the tires chirped anxiously as she sped off. A loud whistle shot through the night air, and I looked back toward the club. Max’s hulking figure was standing out front.

  “Do you need my help, Sayler?” His voice thundered across the empty lot.

  I waved back. “Nope. I’m fine. Good night, Max.”

  “Jeez, that guy’s got a stick up his mighty big ass. In fact, he could fit a damn telephone pole,” Parker muttered.

  “No. He watches over us girls. And I appreciate it. I’ve had some pretty creepy guys follow me out of the club. Max is always there. Don’t forget—you did burst into the dressing room and jam a chair under the doorknob.”

  “Yeah, I guess that makes me kind of creepy. And I’m glad he’s there to make sure you’re safe.” He lifted his arm to rake his hair back. Every inch of skin on his arms was covered in tattoos.

  “But you wouldn’
t need him at all if you weren’t working at this place.”

  My defenses went up. “You know, maybe I’ll just walk to the bus stop.” I stomped past him, but he reached out and took hold of my wrist. Just like those few seconds in the dressing room when Max’s thunderous knock had sent me into his arms, his touch felt incredibly familiar and nostalgic. I yearned to go back in time to those carefree days with Parker.

  “You’re right. It’s none of my business, Sayler. I’m just worried about you.” He tilted his head toward his truck. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home. You must be tired.”

  We walked across the lot. “Still the same old Ford you drove in Montana,” I quipped.

  “Two hundred thousand miles and still purrs like a kitten. Only now, it hauls motorcycles instead of horses.”

  “Uh, I don’t think this truck ever purred like a kitten. My dad used to hear you pull up to the house even with his television blaring. Made sneaking out to see you pretty much impossible.”

  He opened the passenger side. “You’re right. The kitten purrs must have been coming from you when I had you in the backseat.” He winked at me.

  “I see you’re still just as cocky as ever.” Under the streetlights, I could see that a man had replaced the boy. He still was just as handsome as ever. His green gaze always felt as if he was looking straight through me, knowing everything I was thinking and feeling. We’d always had that kind of strong connection.

  I climbed into the truck, and he got into the driver’s side. His hands gripped the steering wheel. “Where to?”

  I paused. Stupidly, I’d forgotten that I lived in what could be considered a step up from a discarded refrigerator box. “I’ll tell you, but no more of this judgmental shit, all right? Makes you sound like my Aunt Frannie.”

  “Holy shit, I forgot all about Aunt Frannie. Man, she hated me. I was always waiting for her to turn on the hose and chase me off her front lawn. Damn, if that’s what I sounded like back there, then I will definitely stop with the judgmental shit.” He reached forward and turned up the music.

  “You obviously invested in some new speakers. The old ones always made every instrument sound as if someone was twanging a guitar made of tin and fishing string.” For a brief second I had a flashback to the two of us ditching third period and taking off in the truck to the nearby river, a favorite truancy hideout of our schoolmates. We’d had such a good time that day, out from under the thumb and disapproving grumbles of the school staff and our parents. We’d spent the entire afternoon laughing and making out.

  “Yeah, those speakers finally blew up on my drive to California. Had to hum and talk to myself all the way through Nevada.” He smiled over at me. “Damn, Sayler, I missed ya.” A tiny bit of his cowboy swagger was showing itself, and it made me smile. He pointed left and right at the intersection.

  “Turn right. It’s called Oakville Heights Park.”

  His brow arched high. I put up my finger to stop him from commenting. “Aunt Frannie used to raise her disapproving brow just like that.”

  “Yep. Turning off opinionated old lady mode right now.”

  I turned sideways and looked at him. “I noticed your freestyle career is going well. I see your posts on Facebook. You’ve got some nice sponsorships too. Of course, I always figured you’d be good at it. You were always happiest when you were doing something that lit your hair on fire and provided the possibility of a painful ending. No one could break a colt like you. I guess that’s why they call you Rodeo out here, huh? Because of your long lost cowboy days?”

  “Yeah, can’t remember exactly when it happened, just sort of became my name. And I liked it enough to let it stand.”

  “Who were those two guys with you? They caused quite a stir amongst my fellow dancers.”

  “Figures. Cole and Denver have a way of doing that. They are my roommates and coworkers. In fact, Cole is my boss.”

  “Boss of what? I thought you were just jumping bikes for a living.”

  “I wish. Not that good yet but working toward it. I’m working construction. We’re building a new casino and hotel. It’s a two year job, so we’re all living at Cole’s house. Or, I should say, at his dad’s house.” He looked over at me. “You’ll never guess who his dad is. He’s one of the most famous people in the world.”

  “Uh, the president?”

  “No. Even more famous than that. His music was playing at the club tonight. His dad is Nicky King of Black Thunder.”

  “Really? Shit. Guess life here beats the back roads of Montana, huh? Hanging out with rock star’s kids and all that.”

  He shrugged. “It’s different. Sometimes I miss Montana. No traffic. No hassles and stress of living in the city. But I don’t miss the snow, the fucking snow. I don’t ever miss that.”

  “I’ll say. I came out here with my parka and snow boots, and I had a good laugh at the stuff in my duffle bag. I got here in July. It was a hundred and three. Thought the world was coming to an end. A hundred and three. Thought it couldn’t get any hotter than that. Then August came. I guess it’s a trade off, living in a place where it’s too hot to go outside or living in a place where it’s too cold.”

  “I’ll take too hot every time. Can’t jump a motorcycle off an icy kicker.”

  He turned onto the poorly paved road that led to the trailer park. Someone had strung a set of old Christmas lights across the Oakville Heights sign. They sort of added to the whole shabby ambiance of the place.

  “It’s the last one on the left where my useless old Volkswagen is pretending to be a lawn ornament to avoid being a car.”

  “It’s not running?”

  “Well, if it sits on just the right incline and someone gives me a good push and I pop the clutch just right, the engine will sputter on. Then it’s all up to the car gods to decide if it stays running or not.”

  He pulled his truck up in front of the trailer. “Maybe I could tow it over to my house. Cole has a lift in the garage, and I could do some work on it.”

  “That would be great. Although I’m not completely sure it’s got much life left in it. I bought it for three hundred bucks after I got off the bus in Los Angeles.” We climbed out. The steps up to the trailer creaked beneath my feet. I stopped at the door and looked back down at him. “Just in case all this lovely landscaping of fake plastic lawn and dead shrubs gives you the illusion that the inside is posh, it’s not. In fact, it’s almost worse inside. But I do have some cold soda in the fridge.”

  “Soda sounds good. And, Sayler, I don’t care where you live. I’m just glad you’re here in California.”

  I turned around and opened the door. The smell of the morning’s burnt waffle still lingered. “Sorry, had a little incident with an Eggo at breakfast.”

  Parker’s tall, broad shouldered frame nearly filled the inside of the trailer. One wall had a kitchen cupboard but both doors had fallen off, and my paper plates and plastic dishes were on full display. My single mattress bed was in the corner. At least the place was clean. It only took three steps to reach the refrigerator. “One thing is for sure, you don’t waste much time walking around in here.” I grabbed a cola and handed it to him. “On nights when the floor is especially cold, I discovered that I can jump from doing the dishes straight into bed. I just have to duck to avoid this corner here on the cabinet. Left a few skin chunks on it.” I popped open a soda for myself. “Shit, Parker, I’m rattling on like a damn parrot on speed. Stop me. Say something. By the way, I like the whole ink thing. It fits you.”

  He glanced down at the tattoos on his forearm. “Yep, they’re sort of like potato chips. After you try one, you just can’t stop.” He leaned against the kitchen sink and crossed his cowboy booted feet at the ankles. I’d always loved the lines that creased the side of his mouth when he smiled. “So, you landed in L.A. first and then came out this way? Or maybe
you were looking for me?”

  “Yes, Mr. Universe Center, I was looking for you.”

  His smile fell away, and he looked slightly embarrassed. “Guess I was sort of hoping that was the case.”

  I propped my bottom up on the stepladder that I used as my dining chair. “To be perfectly honest, I was planning to look you up while I was out here. I just—there’s just a whole bunch of shit I needed to straighten out in my life first. But I missed you too, Parker. I always felt like you were the only person who got me.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I felt the same way about you. Why the hell did we stop seeing each other?”

  I took a drink of cola and swallowed. “I think they call it self-preservation. We had one hundred percent fun, and there was one hundred percent passion.” I took a pointed second to look him up and down. “Yep, we definitely had that, but between the two of us there was less than ten percent common sense. Besides, it was the best thing for you. Look at how well you’re doing out here. I think I might have held you back.”

  “Nah, you never held me back, Sayler. I always felt like I was moving forward when I was with you.” He gazed at me as if he was trying to see the girl he’d left behind. So much had happened in the last six years that I could hardly remember that girl myself.

  “Sorry that things went so shitty with Kurt. I would have rather been wrong about him than have seen you hurt.” He stepped closer, took my hand and stared at the wedding band I’d moved to my right hand after the divorce. It had belonged to my mom. It was obvious there was a question burning in his throat. I’d always been able to read his mind.

  “Gave up my dance career for the jerk. He didn’t start being abusive until three or four months into the marriage. Then everything about him changed. At first it would just be something small like a shove or throwing a pillow extra hard at my head. But his temper grew along with his whiskey habit. He was nothing short of terrifying when drunk. A black eye was the final straw. I knew I had to get out or end up dead. But he didn’t make that easy either.” A sad laugh fell from my mouth. I’d hardly ever discussed the horrid marriage with anyone, but Parker had always been a good listener. And he understood hardship as much as me. “We finally signed divorce papers on our second anniversary. With nowhere else to go, I hopped on a bus for California.” I lifted my gaze to his. Six years had passed, but I felt completely at ease with him standing in my pathetic, tiny kitchen. “Maybe you weren’t too far off. Maybe I picked California because I knew you would be here, a friend who was always good at listening to the crazy sordid tales that made up my life, a friend who I always felt incredibly comfortable with, a friend who I always looked forward to seeing.” I placed my hand against his face, and he pressed his hand over mine to hold it there.