Candy Hearts, Vol. 2

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Jake headed out of the fancy hotel room, first thing in the morning, having showered before pulling on clothes and boots and doing the walk of shame.

Treat had been sleeping the rest of the exhausted, and he’d looked so pretty, stretched out there on the bed, smiling a little bit, like he was dreaming something amazing. The stunning son of a bitch filled up the bed, dark hair mussed, that five o’clock shadow threatening already to become a beard, even though Jake knew for a fact Treat had shaved before coming to see him last night. The best part was the long, dark eyelashes that cast a shadow, making Treat seem, for this second at least, that he wasn’t a total badass.

Jake had left a note—it wasn’t like he was deserting the man or anything—but he had to meet with one of his sponsors for breakfast, and Lord knew he had things to do.

So he reckoned they could meet up again this afternoon. Have a chat. A drink. Maybe a blowjob.

He was pretty easy, when it came right down to it. He didn’t have to ride again until tomorrow, so he had all day.

It wasn’t until he got down to the ground floor of the hotel that he realized he’d left his fucking truck at the arena.

Dammit.

Jake told the valet dude he needed an Uber, rolling his eyes at himself. Jiminy Christmas, he was a newborn fool.

He leaned against the wall as he waited, whistling, his body aching in all the right places.

They’d been so good together last night, and the sex had been great. Treat still knew how to turn him inside out with a touch, with a single word. But that wasn’t the best part of it.

Jake had been over the moon with simply sitting and talking over supper, after the sex, after round two, even.

He reckoned that made him old, but it was neat just to see Treat’s face. To talk about how the riding was going, the broncs, the bulls. Treat’s ranch.

He thought Treat was gonna offer again.

To let him come stay at the house.

To be a part of the big ranch, the horses and cattle.

Jake thought maybe he’d ponder on going this time. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he wanted to.

The simple fact he was wearing out. The body could only play the rodeo game for so long, especially being roughstock. Between the bulls and the broncs, he just?—

Some mornings, he swore to God he didn’t have a bone that didn’t hurt. Damn, but he did like sleeping in a bed, too. A real one, not just an air mattress in the bed of the truck.

Not only that? Jake wanted a dog. Was that weird? He thought it might be weird, but he really wanted a hound, something that he could love on.

He wanted to have coffee with Treat in the morning, supper with him at night, watch stupid-assed TV for a couple hours, then go to bed, knowing that he’d done good work for the day.

God help him, he wanted to be normal.

The Uber pulled up, and he hopped in, popping in his earphones and blaring Chris Stapleton as loud as his ears could bear it. He didn’t want to talk.

He had to think about this. Was he being selfish? A dick? Was he using Treat and Treat’s money?

Because if he was, he wasn’t the man he wanted to be.

He wanted to be the man that Treat seemed to be looking for. God help him, if he wasn’t, he was going to…kick his own ass. No way could he kick Treat’s. Physically or emotionally. The man was a rock.

He just wanted to bring something to the table, dammit.

He took a deep breath, then let it out. He was a good rider. He had sponsors.

His phone dinged. Where did you go?

Heading for my truck, goof. I got a meet w/Angela about getting a check for the last commercial at 10. Lunch?

Sounds like a plan, baby. You want me to come to you, or will you park your truck here?

I’ll just head over to you. Unless there was a need for Treat to be back at the fairgrounds today. You got business here today?

Yeah. I’m interested in buying some calves, maybe a colt or two.

Then head my way. We’ll grab something here.

They could wander around the Expo, look at all the vendors. Just fuck off for a little while.

They hadn’t done something like that in a long time. Maybe ever, when he thought about it. Just walked around like two dudes.

It had been too hard really, to appear like guys, like friends. He wanted contact. He wanted to reach out and just touch Treat’s wrist or call him baby.

Hell, he just wanted to look, to stare at Treat and let the world be jealous of the fact that this man cared for him.

Oh, he knew he couldn’t. That was a death sentence at worst, and a sponsorship disaster at best. God knew, he couldn’t afford that.

But how was he gonna do this? How could he even try to do this?

Jake was gonna have to learn. He was gonna have to learn how to not look and not touch and not say the things he wanted to say unless they were in private.

It was a heavy damn weight to bear, but he was worth it. Treat was worth it.

All right, I’ll get a shower and get ready and head out that direction. You holler when you get done with your sponsor meeting, and we’ll hook up.

Lord, have mercy. Sounds good. I’ll see you around noon.

He stuck his phone in his shirt pocket, leaned back and closed his eyes a second.

Every so often Jake thought that the world was moving too fast for him. That everything was zipping around, and he couldn’t quite focus. If he stopped to think, even for a second, he was behind.

And so he just stumbled through everything, focused only on keeping his feet.

Nobody else seemed to be there with him. Everybody else seemed to know what the fuck was going on.

But not him.

He was just wandering from one eight-second ride to the other, from one check to the next. From one arena to another, praying he didn’t get anything broke, that his truck stayed running, and that he got a rank bull.

He breathed in, then out, thanking the Uber guy when they stopped at his drop point, making sure his tip went through. Then he headed to breakfast, trying to put a smile on his face for the sponsors. Angela was really nice, always making it easy, but he knew he wasn’t ready to sign another five-year contract.

Jake was getting too long in the tooth for that.

He grabbed a clean shirt and some clean underwear out of his go bag in his truck, then he jogged into the fairgrounds, nodding to the folks at the ticket booth, flashing his participant badge on the way in. He changed in one of the public bathrooms, giving himself a bit of a whore’s bath on the way. Nobody came in there while he was cleaning up, and he was damn grateful for it. Most of these guys, he wouldn’t have to explain himself to.

But the high-dollar cowboys? The rhinestone ones with gold nugget rings and 100X Stetsons and Luccheses? Shit, they wore watches that were worth more than he made in a year.

Once he was all put back together, he went to meet Angela in one of the fancy VIP buildings that had sit down service as opposed to a food court. She was there, of course, sitting down early, just like he expected.

She was a handsome lady. She’d been pretty, he imagined, when she was a kid. When she was a teenager, she’d been a buckle bunny. But loving cowboys and the Western life had taken it out of her a little bit—left her with a hard face, with pursed lips, with eyes that were sort of like chips of ice. He liked her a lot.

“Hey, lady, how goes?”

“Fair to middlin’. Miss being in Denver a little bit. You know, I’m here in Texas now until middle of March.” She was the Colorado girl, hair to boots.

“Yeah, you got Houston after this, then Austin. You’ll like Austin.”

“I always do. Austin is a hell of a place to be. I’m staying through South by Southwest this year. Rented myself a little B I feel bad.”

“No, I’m not hungry. Thank you though.” He could feel the tension across his upper lip, like somebody had a string attached to either side, and it was drawn up through the middle and pulled on tight. That same string was leading right up through the bridge of his nose and between his eyes, the headache starting damn near immediately.

He tossed back his coffee and put the cup down, forcing himself not to slam it so hard that the handle broke off. “You know what? I got to go. I can’t wait for your breakfast. I hope you have a good day, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’ll talk to you later. You have a good life.” He stood up and walked away, feeling her eyes on his back. What was he gonna do? What the hell was he supposed to do now? Sponsors were the only way he could pay his entry fees.

The air was cold and crisp outside, and he kind of hunkered in his jacket. San Antonio wasn’t cold much and it wasn’t cold long, but this was the time of year for it.

Spring was close though, he could tell. Spring happened at Valentine’s Day in Texas.

He just walked blindly, right into the stock show area, the chickens and ducks and geese all lined up in cages, clucking and quacking.

He almost texted Treat to tell him not to come, but he knew that wasn’t going to work. That would just make Treat want to know what the hell was going on, what’s wrong, what’s the matter? He wasn’t ready to tell that story yet.

So he wandered.

He couldn’t even say he was really thinking because he wasn’t. He’d start up again. This sort of thing was like getting hit in the face with a horn. It took a while before the real hurting began, and he knew when it happened, man, it was gonna be a bitch. So a man just kind of took that few minutes—or if he was lucky, hours—of total numb.

Because when the pain started, it was gonna steal his breath and his focus.

This was God’s way of letting it be okay for a second.

“Jake? Jake Greenbriar, that you?”

He glanced over, seeing Troy Martin over across the expo floor, coming toward him. The man was the chute boss with the rodeo company. A good man for the most part, unless he’d been drinking.

Of course, Jake said that about a lot of folks.

“Hey, man, what’s up?”

“I heard you got dropped.” The old man’s face was sort of like a hound dog’s—all, oh so sorry, but mostly it wasn’t real.

“Damn, good news travels fast, doesn’t it?”

“No shit on that.” Troy shrugged, slapping the sheaf of papers he held on one skinny thigh. “I was wondering. I got three guys dropped out of the bull riding tonight. You wanna take a spot, get yourself a ride done there early? That way you’d at least know what your standings are.”

What his standings were?

Like he was even going to make the short go.

He’d have to have like a ninety-four point ride.

Still, he might get into the money for the round, and then he’d be able to go.

Just go, because obviously everybody knew what he’d been surprised to find out.

Sponsorships were like marriages. There was always some asshole who didn’t know that he was being cheated on. Somehow, he was always that asshole.

“Sure, sounds good.” Jake didn’t see any reason why not. It was as good a time now as later.

Shit or get off the pot, he supposed. Hell. If he was lucky, he’d get a couple more days with Treat.

“Good deal. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll see you this evening.”

One more ride with the sponsor shirt on. It was a thing.