“Spoken like a true jealous man. I bet you wish you had this mug.” Grimes smoothed his hand down his cheek.
Several remarks passed through Urban’s head, one involving Grimes’ wife, but he wasn’t going to disrespect Amber. “I don’t have time for this, ladies.” Urban drew his hat down lower, shading his eyes. “I have a bull to ride.” He folded up the paper that had been shoved his way and pushed it into his back pocket. He started for the chute and found his buddy, Pete Parsons, resting his elbows on the top rail.
“Hey there, partner. Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Glad to see you made the final rounds.” Parson’s thumped him on the back. “You going to beat that smug ass Grimes, right?” He shot a glance to the mentioned cowboy. “The guy can be alright when he isn’t showing off for his buddies.”
“He likes to blow his own horn. You’ll get that sometimes. Maybe he has his reasons. He’s ahead in points.”
“How’s the wrist?”
“Fucked up,” he muttered. “Reminding me I’m old compared to some of these kids out here.”
“Times are changing, aren’t they? The pot is pretty hefty, buddy, nearly two hundred grand, which makes us all a bit beastly. What I wouldn’t give to win it. Hell, I’d retire.” The other man, a few years older than Urban, laughed. “Not going to happen this time though.”
Urban shrugged. “I’m thinking about the same, Pete. I’ve been saving up and that pot would be all that I need to retire comfortably. Maybe even add onto my house.”
“You? Retire? Damn, boy. You must have really hurt yourself. At least you have something to fall back on with the ranch and security business. I have to ride this job out for as long as possible.”
“I can handle it, but it’s a bitch. Especially when I can’t hold on worth a fuck.” He shook his head in agitation. “Ribs ain’t worth a damn either. Last bull almost had me.”
“Maybe you’ll luck out and get one of the gentler rides.”
“And how will that help? That’ll only ensure Grimes will get those damn points. I don’t know what’s worse. Losing to a man like Grimes, or losing that much money.”
The intercom whined, then the announcer declared that the start of the preshow was beginning which was the signal for all riders to be in the holding area and ready. The bullfighters and acrobat riders put on their welcoming show, then fireworks were set off. The crowd erupted into applause.
“Hey, Urban.”
He looked around to see who was calling, and leaning over the top rail of the holding pen was a beautiful brunette whose smile, and double Ds spilling out of her low-cut blouse, had a handful of men staring. She waved and he tipped his hat.
“Good luck. Come on by the barbecue shack later and I’ll give you ribs for free.” She winked. “And dessert too.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He liked ribs, but after he was finished with his ride he had every intention of going home and resting his body.
Pete whistled through his teeth. “If you ain’t one lucky sum’bitch.”
“If you say so. Gotta go, buddy. I need to wrap my wrist before I climb atop the bull. Best of luck.”
“You too, man. Hope to see you before I leave.”
On his way to the stand where the medic was tending to last minute wraps and injuries, Urban passed a group of cowgirls who whistled at him. Sure, they were beauties too with their high-assed shorts, but why did an image of a red-head with spell bounding hazel eyes come to mind? Fuck! Bad path to be on because it led to a dead end.
“Hey, Urban. Want to catch up later?” a pretty blonde with a sash that read “Rodeo Babe” asked.
He smiled. “Sorry. I’ll be resting these old bones.” There was a time he would have jumped at the chance to spend some time with the beauty, knowing it would only be a good time with no strings attached. Buckle bunnies never expected anything but a good time. Why didn’t that entice him now? After all, it had been nearly a year since he’d been with a woman and, for a man with a lethal libido, that was like centuries.
For now, he needed to stay focused and hopefully get through this ride by the skin of his teeth, or his balls. Probably both.
*****
Presley’s first thought when she saw him was how warm his hands had felt on her when he saved her from falling. Second thought, he’d been turned on. The evidence had pressed against her backside. Even now, her heart hitched and her belly clenched. Along with a heated throbbing between her legs.
Still reeling from what transpired between she and Urban at the stables was mixing with the adrenaline rush from watching the pre-show, making it almost impossible for her to stand still in her position at the fence. She was glad she could watch a bit before she headed over to the auction.
Unwrapping a piece of taffy, she popped the cherry-flavored candy into her mouth and licked her fingers, realizing she was being stared at by a fellow across the arena. He dipped his hat and she smiled. Every man she saw was a potential husband, but he wasn’t her type. She liked her cowboys tall, dark, and handsome…just like Urban. Grrr. She needed to crawl inside her brain and scrub out all thoughts of him.
Chewing, she saw the familiar white Stetson and the taffy slid down her throat, causing her to erupt into a coughing fit which grabbed several bystanders’ attention. Once under control, she watched Urban saunter boldly toward the chute and her gaze naturally meandered down his broad shoulders that stretched the checked blue button down, to the large silver buckle that glinted the sun’s rays, even further to his long, denim-clad legs and the toes of his dusty, worn boots. Without realizing it, she smiled until her cheeks ached. She’d deny that she wanted to see him, but it was a waste of time, making her very confused. For years, she’d never liked the youngest cocky Jericho. In fact, she’d made it clear how much she disliked him each and every time she saw him. It seemed like he second-guessed her suggestions and ideas when it came to the livestock—her new process for rearing healthier, happier cattle, and a more humane process to inoculations and breeding. If she happened to run into him at the local bar, he’d make it his goal to stare at her from across the room, but never approached her. And at the stable when he’d eavesdropped on her conversation with Cheryl, he’d showed off that shit-eating, dimple bracketed smile like it was a weapon…and she hadn’t been immune. Damn irresistible cowboy! All the Jericho boys were sexier than a Greek God and had charm that made women blush from roots to toes. Up until recently, she’d been the one-percent who had resisted the allure. Minus the few short months when she’d dated Hugh back in high school. Fortunately, they were still friends. She considered all the Jericho men friends.
And then there was Urban…
He was wearing a pair of faded jeans, but they were sharp and crisp. His face was clean shaven, but spots of his jaw had hints of a layer of whiskers. The tips of his dark hair were visible from under the hat and the dark mass always looked finger combed. His blue eyes—a common Jericho trait—were usually warm and twinkly, intensified by his smile, but right now they were brooding as he stood close to the chute. There was a calm power and confidence that exuded from him. Although she didn’t know him well, she did know that out of all the brothers, he was the most free-spirited, happy-go-lucky Jericho. She barely saw him without a smile, except before a ride when he was serious.
Looking at him, she was overcome with many emotions, both emotional and physical. Her knees were weak, but at the same time an energy rushed through her. Body parts were tingly and aware.
Her father’s words, “What about those Jericho cowboys?” as options for marriage echoed through her mind. She laughed and the thin wiry cowboy standing next to her gave her a side glance. The whole idea of marriage, especially to own the business and land that should be hers, was ludicrous. And marrying a Jericho? Pfft. Now that there were only two left made it even funnier, although what was happening in her body wasn’t so funny. She felt a display of fireworks right in the center of her core.
> For theory’s sake, if she had to marry a man, he’d have to be strong and masculine. Someone who worked hard. A man who loved ranch life and animals, big and small, as much as she did. In a perfect world, she’d want to fall in love and then get married, but if she hadn’t yet in her thirty-four years, what were the chances that she would in the next six months? Her dad was right. She’d blocked off every and any chance of having a relationship.
So, on the flip-side, marrying a man for gain was her best bet. A man she didn’t have any feelings for so when she had the clinic, they could divorce without any sadness or broken hearts.
Unfortunately, what man would want to consider a marriage of circumstance?
The first rider was a cowboy by the name of Jake Hope riding the bull Havier. Urban watched from nearby, standing on the bottom rail of the fence and leaning over the top rail. The bull’s power was obvious the millisecond he burst from the gate. He exploded across the dirt arena, pounding the earth and knocking the cowboy left to right until it was over before it really began. The bullfighters rushed in and saved the cowboy from any eventful injury.
Two more riders took to the pen and each story ended the same. They didn’t make the eight seconds. Looked like the bulls were winning.
The tension was high among the crowd when popular rider, Chance Grimes, took his place on the bull, Stranger Danger, the rankest bull. He could practically shoot fire from his flaring nostrils. Presley guessed Urban had hoped for the beast, but that meant he would have Tower, also a champion bull.
As the chute opened, it wasn’t the bull who had Presley’s attention. Her gaze was hooked on Urban who was climbing onto the back of his bull and preparing. Tower didn’t waste any time. He kicked the enclosure, snorted and looked like he couldn’t wait to explode from the chute. She couldn’t read Urban’s expression because his hat was pulled low, but his jaw was tight. Seeing the bright green wrap on his wrist made her stomach turn. He was injured and didn’t have use of his prominent hand. Why was he still riding? Silly question. She’d never known a Jericho to walk away from a challenge.
The buzzer sounded. Chance was still on the bull and by his victory smile he believed he had the win wrapped up. Presley found herself rooting for Urban.
The crowd cheered as Urban settled deeper onto the bull’s back who was snorting and pounding his hoof impatiently. Urban tilted his head and she could see his bicep bulging underneath the sleeve of his shirt. His thick thighs flanked the bull’s sides. Urban raised his hand above his head and the gate flew open. As warned by the bull’s behavior in the chute, he shot out of the metal confines like a bullet from a gun, bucking wildly.
Urban sat atop the beast like a warrior, his frame tight and his arm still lifted high. Tower tried every shift, every angle, to unseat Urban without success. Seconds past at the pace of centuries. Presley found that she was holding her breath watching in anticipation while the crowd stayed quiet.
The snorting, raging bull knew time was close and with one last ditch effort, he pawed the dirt then took off at full speed, ramming the enclosure. But still, miraculously, Urban held on. His hat had shifted and he looked pale, his lips were in a thin line.
Tower propelled from his front hooves to back, thrashing Urban around its back. And then he crashed into the gate, the pounding reverberated around the arena. Oohs and ahhs sounded from the crowd. Urban had popped up a good two feet off Tower’s back and his expression turned weighty. He went up in the air again only to come down hard just as the bull whipped into a spin, sending Urban plunging to the ground a breath before the buzzer sounded.
The bullfighters hit the dirt running, moving in fast, waving wildly to gain the attention of the mad bull. Presley bit into her bottom lip, clutching the rail for dear life. Get up, Urban. Get up! Her brain cried out in fear. Urban was holding his ribs. He was hurt.
The bull saw his chance and dragged his wide hoof across the dirt as if marking his line. He took off running, straight toward Urban who was pushing himself upward.
He was off the ground, but not moving fast enough. He was limping as he struggled for the gate. Massive hooves pulverized the earth, the bull huffing and puffing. Just as Urban dragged himself over the rail and into safety, Tower gracefully swerved and ran into the open gate as if he understood the enormity of what he’d accomplished. It was then that Presley could breathe again.
Chapter Three
Urban was stretched out on the table in the medical facility as the medic pressed the stethoscope to his chest.
“Take a deep breath for me,” the medic asked.
Taking a deep breath hurt, but he was still alive. He was also mad as hell. “I’m fine.”
“Let me be the judge of that. Chest sounds clear.” He dragged the stethoscope around his neck. “The leg isn’t broken, but if it doesn’t start feeling better in a few days, you need to have it x-rayed. I’ll wrap the wrist which probably has a hairline fracture. You definitely walked away one lucky man.”
“I lost a lot of money. I wouldn’t exactly say I’m lucky.” Saying the words aloud stung like hell. He couldn’t blame the rank bull who was doing what instinct told him to do. Not everyone could win the pot.
“Hang tight for a minute and I’ll get you out of here,” the medic said.
“Need a lift, bro?”
Urban looked up to find Hugh standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to watch. You certainly put on the best show. Just like the medic said, you’re a lucky man.” Hugh stepped in and shook his head. “But you do look like shit.”
“Get catapulted from a bull and you’d look like shit too.”
“I’ve been there a few times. You okay? Anything broken?”
He held up his hand. “Damn wrist again.”
“From the first ride?”
“Yeah. I got tossed after the buzzer.”
“We all fall off at times, bro. You’ll need a cast.” There was a sincerity to his voice that told Urban his brother was being protective.
“But we don’t always lose that much money. I bet Grimes is as proud as a pig with a full slop trough.”
“You sore because you lost or because he won?” Hugh laughed.
“Hell, you need to ask?”
Hugh shrugged “Guess I do.”
“The money, bro. I had plans for it.”
“You still going to retire?”
“Not sure I’ll be able to now.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “How’s the sheriff race going?”
“It’s going. Did you vote?”
“Planned on it.” Urban winced as the medic rolled the wrap around his wrist. “Might as well stop at the firehouse on the way to the hospital. I’ve got to vote for the man right for the job.” He winked.
“You’re free to go,” the medic informed him.
“Come on, Urban. Let’s get out of here.” Hugh grabbed Urban’s hat from the bottom of the cot and dropped it to his stomach. “You’ll want to get going before they start letting off fireworks celebrating Grimes.”
“I’m in no mood to go home yet. I think we need a little celebrating ourselves. It’s not every day a man’s brother gets elected sheriff.”
“Not so fast. I haven’t been voted in yet.”
“Hell, you have this in the bag.”
They arrived at the local steakhouse bar, after Urban had his wrist put in a cast, and just as the band was setting up on the small stage. “Grab us a couple cold ones,” Urban said to the bartender as they took two seats at the bar.
“That bull got you, man. You look a mess,” the petite waitress placed the two beers in front of them.
“That’s what I’m hearing, but a bull can’t keep a cowboy down. I even have a souvenir.” He held up his cast and tapped it.
“First round is on the house.” She saluted Urban.
“You need a nurse, cowboy.” He heard the soft voice a second before he felt slender hands glide down his shoulders. He glimpsed red nails.
Looking up, he saw it was Rena Hart who was pressing her body against his. She stepped around and shimmied her hips, bumping his arm. He couldn’t deny she looked fine in a tight fitting red T-shirt that showed off her big tits. Although she liked to flirt with all the Jerichos, especially Weston, that’s as far as it ever got with any of them. Urban had a feeling, though, if he asked her politely, she’d have no qualms with showing him a good time. For some reason, he felt edgy this evening and even the thought of falling into the arms of beautiful Rena didn’t do it for him.
“Can I be the first to sign the cast?” She waved for the bartender. “Grab me a pen and a sex on the beach, Dolly.” She didn’t even take her gaze off Urban. Once the pen was in hand, he watched her scribble something, her tongue darting in and out of her mouth as she concentrated. “Sorry I didn’t make it to see you ride, cowboy.” She gave her long hair a toss over one shoulder. “I hear it didn’t end well. By the looks of you I’d say the rumors were true,” she cooed, dipping close enough that he caught a whiff of her too strong perfume.
“News travels fast, especially when it’s bad news,” he practically growled.
She leaned closer, pressing one firm breast against his bicep. “Don’t be a sourpuss. You know when I talk about you, or your brothers, it’s only good.”
“Thank you. Much obliged.” He dipped his hat. She shifted and Urban saw past her shoulder to Hugh who was grinning ear to ear. Yeah, he would find this funny. Urban grabbed his bottle and drank thirstily. “Did you vote today for Hugh?”
“Of course, I did. Every small town needs a big shouldered sheriff to lay down the law.” She winked, then let out a low moan. “You don’t see the likes of her in here often.” There was an obvious hostility in her tone.
Following her slanted gaze, Urban spewed his beer onto her arm which earned him a look of contempt. “What the hell, Urban? You have a hole in your lip?” She reached for a napkin from the holder and dabbed her arm, still eyeing him in disdain.
Urban's Rush (Saddles & Second Chances Book 4) Page 3
