“Sorry if I scared you, ma’am. I always do that it seems.” He fluttered my heart with a gleaming smile.
My under garments got soggy.
“S-sorrn…” I cleared my throat in a nonchalant kind of way and tried again. “Sorry about your shirt.”
He didn’t bother to look down at his wet chest. I wasn’t that disciplined. Then I couldn’t look away. I was right about pecks. His wet shirt accented two famously sculpted masterpieces that deserved tongue play. Half his stomach was flat and ripped, each ab muscle defined. The other half wasn’t wet, and I’d run out of beer. Talk about finishing early!
“It’s all right,” he said in good humor. “No harm, no foul. I saw you checking out the bulls and thought I would come over and say ‘hi’. See if you had any questions?”
Will you marry me?
“I thought I saw you earlier near those big bulls in the corner. Are yours those? I mean, uh, those yours?” I pointed to the larger five bulls, trying to direct his probing gaze away from my tomfoolery.
He looked where I was pointing and then back at me. He spared a glance for my drenched clothes. “Yes, those are mine. Did you need a shirt? I’m sure I have a spare one in my trailer.”
I looked down at the mess that was me. I really knew how to make an impression. “Oh no, I’m okay. It will dry in no time. Thanks, though.”
As soon as the words cleared my mouth I wanted to punch myself in the face. I just passed up a chance to go back with him to his trailer!
Trying to keep him here and undo my stupidity, I asked, “What... Ah, what were you saying about the small bulls?”
He was studying me with a blank face. I could feel myself flush. I still wasn’t able to look at him without all my nerves feeling like live wires running through my body. His eyebrows were black like his hair and a little bushy. Not as bad as Colin Farrell, but it gave his piercing blue eyes a dramatic depth.
His nose was straight and strong with high cheek bones and a square jaw. His skin was bronzed, as a sun God should be. With the breadth of his shoulders and trim waist, I wondered how he didn’t fall over when he shifted his weight. What’s more, he was a man’s man. There was a masculine quality about him that made me want to faint at his feet. Unlike the model and actor boys in L.A., it was refreshing to meet a man as devastatingly handsome as this without feeling like he was more woman than I was. If his brother got the looks, that guy must hurt the eyes.
“The small bulls, yes ma’am.” He turned his attention to a smallish brindle bull in front of us. “This one here probably weighs about 1000 - 1500 pounds. There are smaller animals on the ranch, but this is a small bull for the circuit. The cowboy you were looking at is young with very little experience. He’s thinking he got lucky today because of the size. He thinks small means an easy ride.”
I had to bite my tongue so I didn’t spit out a sexual pun. Instead, I said, “What do you mean by drawing?”
He looked at me in confusion. “Is this your first rodeo?”
I blushed. “Yes. Sorry, I should have warned you. Yeah, this is my first one. I wasn’t impressed by the roping thing.”
He laughed a deep, throaty laugh. “Was that the reason for the scowl? I wondered why everyone kept looking at you.” He laughed again.
The world paused as those words sank in. On one hand, he’d noticed me in the stands! Joy! On the other hand, it meant I was probably more expressive in my dislike than I thought. Oops!
But he noticed me!
“Probably why they were looking at me, yeah,” I muttered, hiding my face.
He was still chuckling. “Did anyone explain why that event is in the rodeo? Everything here has a purpose. Every event is taken from life on a ranch. Well, except bull riding, maybe. That is taken from life on the ranch, but of the drunken variety.”
“Someone tried to explain the roping.”
“The calves aren’t hurt in that event. No animal is hurt in any of these events. Discomfort sometimes, but not hurt.”
“How do you know? Have you ever been running at full speed when someone roped you from behind?” That argument seemed to work with JP, so I thought I would stick to it.
“Well yes, actually.” He was smiling. “My brother was training a horse. He’d been working with barrels, but when he saw me, he decided to go for the live target. I saw him coming and ran like hell!” He laughed, reliving the moment. “I was nowhere near fast enough. My brother ran me down, caught both my feet perfectly, pulled and strapped the rope to Hemlock—that was his horse at the time.
“You see, horses will take direction, but for something as intricate as chasing down animals, then keeping the rope taught when you’ve caught one—well, that takes a lot of training and patience. It’s important to get it right. You gotta make sure you don’t hurt the calf. To make sure it takes the least amount of time possible. That’s why this event is timed. The faster the better for this event, and for life on the ranch.”
By the end, I could see the passion in his eyes. He cared about this stuff; about daily operations on a ranch, getting it right and doing it well. I had a feeling it didn’t matter what it was; if he was doing something, he put his all behind it. I respected that.
I also dipped right back into the naughty pool. Hard to help myself when standing so close to a freaking hunk.
He held my gaze for a moment, probably waiting to see if I was following along, before continuing. “Anyway, my brother’s horse was still being trained, so he wasn’t great at the discipline of applying just the right amount of pressure. You see, you don’t want to leave slack, because the calf will get away, possibly hurting itself in the process. Pull too hard, though, and the little critter is dragged across the dirt. Also bad. You gotta get it ju-ust right. And Hemlock, my brother’s horse, didn’t. My brother got my feet, slapped my face in the dirt, then started dragging’ me across the ranch! So yes ma’am, I certainly know what it’s like. Can’t say I liked it too well, but it didn’t actually hurt.”
I was again struck dumb by his smile. All I could manage was, “Hmmmm.”
“Well anyway, about the bulls. Some of the littler bulls, like this one here, can twist and turn and move around in ways to buck off the rider. Some of the stronger bulls try to only use their strength to get the rider off. They don't twist and move all that much because of their raw power. And mostly, that does work. But all you have to do in that situation is hold on. Get your strength up, and it’s do-able. Never easy, make no mistake. But sometimes do-able.”
“So this one isn’t strong, but wily.”
“Wily?”
“Yeah, wily. Clever.”
He chuckled and put on an English accent. “Yes, wily is the correct descriptor.”
Definitely educated. But then, with all that stuff that Candace said, he would have to be, wouldn’t he?
Poo.
“So that kid is going to expect an easy ride, and get a surprise?”
“I’ll talk to him before then. The worst thing you can do in bull riding is ever expect an easy ride. Even the smallest bulls can give you a jolt. You always have to be prepared or you can really get hurt. You’ll see later. These animals seem like they can’t move all that fast now because of their size, but you’ll be surprised at their temper and how fast they move when pushed.”
“Yeah, I gotta friend like that. So, your beasts are the raw power, just hang on, variety?”
His eyes squinted as he looked at me, a frown creeping into the contours of his face. He glanced toward his bulls, but without actually seeing them. Something was bothering him.
Before I could backtrack, or even figure out which part of the conversation I inserted my foot, he started walking toward his bull pen. A slight shake of head had his anxiety melting, a mischievous look taking over. Naturally I followed.
“I bread that stock myself,” he said as we neared. “Animal breeding is a hobby of mine. They have power, yes. But they have their share of wily as well. You can’t never tell which direction they’re gonna turn. The biggest bull,” he pointed to a giant black bull almost my height, “can turn directions so fast, and with so much force, you get whipped off and hope your arm came with you. He’s a mean one.”
“My goodness, is that a smug smile you have there, sir?”
He winked at me. My spine went to jelly.
“This is the first rodeo for these bulls,” he said as he looked over his stock. “I’m not sure they’ll perform how they should. This is their trial run.”
“And if it goes well?”
“I take ‘em to the bank. Big redoes, hopefully, like in Houston. Let ‘em circuit a while, then stud ‘em out."
“Success.”
His smile ate away my stomach like acid. “Exactly.”
We held eyes for a silent beat, before he said, “I’ve been rude. I’m William. Or Willie, if you prefer.”
I stuck out my hand. “Jessica.”
“And you’re from California?”
“Accent give me away? Or was it my constant scowl?”
“A lot of women scowl when they first see calves fall.” His twinkling eyes melted my pants. “No. There aren’t many secrets in this town.”
“I didn’t realize it was that small.”
“You’d be surprised.” A cloud passed over his face again.
I wondered if he was a bit moody. Not that I’d kick him out of bed for it. Or for anything, actually. Hell, I might have to chain him to keep him put after I tricked him in in the first place.
To keep things moving, I changed the subject. “What else do you tamper with?”
He didn’t shift gears as fast as I did. His eyes still delved into me intently. I felt that pull again, from the center of my being. Like he was reeling me in with his presence alone. I blinked a couple times, trying to clear my head before I did something weird or embarrassing. Suddenly there was a very tight feeling in my groin. Tight and wet.
Oh lord.
“Tamper with?” His voice was wispy.
“Tamper with. You know, play God with. Take over for Mother Nature. I think you called it...breeding?”
His eyes grounded, digesting what I said. Suddenly, his face lit up in a smile that nearly knocked me off my feet.
When was I going to get used to his charisma? Surely I have not always been such a buffoon around pretty people. I wasn’t even this bad when I met Brad Pitt at a club in his really hot days.
It was probably because of his moods. Up, down, sideways, the guy had me on a carnival ride of expectation. And I liked it.
“I breed dogs. Blue Healer and--”
“Willie!”
Eyes snapping into the most focused I’d seen them since he started talking to me, he looked off in the direction of the shout. When he turned back to me, it was with regret. “I’m sorry, I’m needed. We’ll have to continue our lesson another time.” He winked and walked away.
The ass on him just wouldn’t quit!
He abruptly turned, catching me staring at his butt. With a knowing smile, he said, “Oh, and before the day is through I will amend your drinking problem.” He nodded to my empty plastic cup. “I wouldn’t want you to say I spilled your drink and didn’t refill your cup.” He gave me a smile and a nod before he was gone.
I mentally wiped the drool off my chin.
Back at the beer line, my head was drifting. I went over every word we spoke in detail. Every look. Every weird change of mood. I dissected everything, as one did with a new crush, and figured that the weird up’s and down’s was probably stress. He had a lot going on, and my yapping at him wasn’t helping.
Good talk, though. He might be unreachable, but I had touched him!
Tee hee!
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
It took me a second to realize the words were directed at the side of my head.
A decent looking man stood next to me, awaiting my attention.
“Yes?”
“Well, it’s just that I was wonderin’ what you was laughin’ at?” His lips curved into a smile.
The only reason I could fathom him caring was to get me into bed. Still, he was attractive—I didn’t want to be rude.
“Oh nothing. Just thinking.”
I turned my gaze, nonchalantly of course, to a man flopping around on the back of a wildly bucking horse in the middle of the arena. He didn’t have a saddle, and the way his legs were pumping into the air, he looked like an upside-down leap frog. “Why does he kick the horse as he hangs on?”
“Well, now, why don’t you just come right down over here and I’ll explain to ya.”
“You don’t have to be so formal about sitting, but okay.”
I followed him to the stands. Once seated, he slid a little closer until his thigh was brushing mine. I noticed what must be his friends off to the side, sitting in a group and looking down at us with smirks.
I rolled my eyes. I hated when boys ruined a good moment by trying to show off for their friends. Plus, there were a lot of them, they were strangers, there was beer flowing, and I was alone. This was not a good situation for me to be in. It was probably time to go find my married friend.
“I must ask you, darlin’, why you look like yer sweatin’ like a whore in church?”
My brain stuttered a moment. All I heard was sweat and whore.
About ready to tell him where he could shove it, I noticed his eyes glance down at my damp shirt.
Ah, the spilled beer.
Still, what the f**k?
“Yeah, I spilled some beer on myself," I answered, looking away with disinterest. "Well, someone scared me, and I spilled on myself and him.”