Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The crowd was rockin’. Bax loved it when they were into it, cheering and screaming, egging them and the bulls on. It ramped up the energy, made him want to put on a better show. It also made Jason a crazed lunatic. Made the man incredibly determined to cover all his bulls. Bax just loved it.
He stood on the rail, pulling at Jason’s rope, watching Mini fold his gloved fingers over and pound on them, getting the rope good and tight in his riding hand.
It was sexy as Hell.
Bax could see Jason clenching his jaw, over and over, knew he was talking to himself, going over the same thing, again and again. Getting ready. The bull was jumpy as fuck, thinking about climbing up and out of the chute, Bax could tell.
Bax crawled over the fence, back behind the chute, snarling, “Give him the nod, for fuck’s sake.”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch.” He got this wild, pure wicked grin and that black hat dipped.
The gate swung open, Triple-Dip jumping strong and going for the right, just like always.
Jesus, that man had balance and grace and pure-D strength.
Bax watched every jump and spin, the bull trying to pull Jason forward and missing by a mile.
Shit, Mini was spurring, looking as if he was having a ball.
Eduardo and Buck were screaming their heads off, AJ pounding Bax on the back as the clock hit eight seconds.
Bax pumped a fist in the air, all but leaping off the gate when the bull turned back and took a swipe at Jason’s ass. He liked that ass in one piece.
Jason took a leap, hanging on the gate, hat going flying as the son of a bitch laughed. “Did you see that, Bax? Did you see that bastard?”
“Fucking A, man.” Leaning across, he grabbed Jason’s shoulder, laughing like a loon.
The scores came in—89.75. Not bad. Not bad at all. The crowd went wild, Jason waving, grinning wide, heading up and over the chute.
“You’d best go do your interview now, or she’ll track you down back in the locker room in your skivvies.” Bax put an arm around Jason’s back a minute, pounding a little.
“That’d show her, huh? Me and my BVDs?” Jason dumped his bull rope, brushed some dust off one cheek. “So, twenty bucks says she wants to know how I feel.”
“No bet. She wants to feel you all the time.” He winked as AJ hooted and made a rude motion.
“Ew. Bastard.” Nasty.
Nas-ty.
The laughter followed Jason out to the cameras, that microphone that got shoved into his face.
“So, Jason, that looked great out there. What is it going to take to win the championship round, do you think?”
Was this woman stupid?
“Uh. I gotta stick on the bull for eight seconds?”
“Jason! Great ride. How do you feel that this affects your ride to the finals?” The chick with the microphone just had this scary, toothy smile.
“It’s always good to be healthy and on a streak.” Better than being beat to Hell and in a slump.
“Do you think you’ll be able to keep the streak going? Kynan Daley is getting closer in the points range.” Lord, the questions these people asked over and over.
“Well, assuming I keep riding, I got hope.” He could see the guys, down the tunnel, making fun of him.
“Well, good luck. Great ride.” She said the same shit, all the time.
“Thanks.” Thank fuck. He headed back toward the little pods of pure-D assholes, watching the little fucks scatter.
There was one little boy, waving his cowboy hat madly, eyes huge. “Jason! Mr. Jason! Please!”
Fuck. “Okay. Okay, son.”
He grabbed the hat and the pen, signing the brim and handing it back, ignoring the rest.
No more.
He hated glad-handing.
Bax was waiting for him, a big old grin about to split that brown face wide open. “Such charm. Such sophistication.”
“Fuck you.” He swatted Bax’s ass but hard, the sound echoing.
AJ’s dorky-assed laugh rang out. “Don’t hit it too hard, man. Cooter just barely saved it from Mr. Master today.”
“Slowest rider in the league, at least on the ground,” Bax agreed cheerfully. “But I got away, huh? Besides, buddy, you need to keep your mind on your own. In the middle.” Bax was just that much older than some of them, always mother-henning. A man called it mentoring, Bax might hit him.
“I’m managing. You did some riding today, Cotton. Had all them little girls screaming your name.”
The kid went about as red as the hair on his head. Lord, he’d never been that green, had he? “Yeah, well. I… I reckon I’m going back to the hotel and hit the after-party. There’s that little blonde…”
“Just make sure the little blonde don’t have a big boyfriend. Some of them do.” They parted ways after hanging up their ropes, Bax stripping off his vest and cracking his neck. “So. Short go is tomorrow. We’re done. You want to sneak out?”
“Yeah. You want to go eat or get something in the room?” Jason got his vest off, rolling his shoulders.
“Sounds good. We could watch some of those movies your momma got.” They could hide a bit. That was what he could see on Bax’s face. The media circus was starting to kind of get to all of them.
“Works for me. We got a cooler full of drinks still. Cards.” He shrugged on a T-shirt, tossed one over to Bax.
“Thanks.” After absently yanking off his yellow shirt, Bax pulled the T-shirt on, smoothing it down over that flat belly. “Damn, I got to learn to get off the back instead of the front.”
“Least you got off whole.” Man, everything that came out of his mouth sounded filthy.
“I did.” The riding boots came off, Bax pulling on the old, worn work boots and putting on a gimme cap. “Ready when you are.”
He brushed the dust out of his hair and grabbed his straw hat. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand, buddy.”
He hung back a little, let Bax go first. That way he could watch. The little cowboy ass wiggled as if Bax was showing it just for him. A man could get off on that in a hurry. His prick just got heavy, appreciating the finest sight on this Earth, yessir. The things he could imagine…
“What, am I running interference or something?” That glare was one the camera loved—people loved it when Bax was a bastard. He usually got it when Bax thought he needed to get a move on.
“Jesus Christ, you’re the slowest motherfucker on earth when you’re in the arena and then, all of the sudden, you’re in public and you’re fucking Speed Racer?”
“Just trying to get your famous ass past anyone who might be out there, trolling for autographs.” When he caught up, Bax grabbed his arm and yanked, kinda like he would pull Jason out of the way of a bull.
“Fuck off, Mr. December.” He was never going to let Bax live that shirtless, lying-back-in-the-hay-like-a-slut beefcake calendar picture down. Ever.
“You’re just jealous because they didn’t ask your skinny ass to be in it.”
They made the truck before an old guy in a neon T-shirt figured out if they were who he thought they were, peeling out fast enough that the tires squealed.
“You don’t know that they didn’t ask.” Bax also didn’t know that Jason had that picture in his wallet, all folded up. For when he needed inspiration.
“I do, too. I asked your momma. She reads all your mail, you know.” Hooting, Bax floored it and ran a red light, just cackling like a fool.
“Bitch. I hope you get stopped.” He propped his feet up on the dashboard, knowing it drove Bax nuts.
“Get your nasty boots off my dash.” Like the Dodge wasn’t almost six years old, and like Bax had paid any money for it. The lucky fuck had won it at the National Finals Rodeo.
“They ain’t nasty. I had ‘em polished at the hotel.” Man, they were gonna tie it up some, they weren’t careful.
‘Course, they’d been awful nice of late. Sometimes they just had to bust out, and who better to fly off against? Least they were friends enough not to take it personally.
“You’re still gonna scratch it.”
“Like I’m not the one who takes it to get detailed.” He figured it was the least he could do.
“Well… Man, you’re determined to take the starch out of me.” Bax sighed, rolled his head on his neck. “I just need a fucking ride.”
“Yeah. Man, you know slumps happen.” But yeah. Yeah, Bax was sliding and Goddamn, he hated that. “You just gotta let it happen, man.”
“Aw, Hell, Mini. I’m gettin’ old.” They streaked around a curve, his elbow and shoulder whacking the window.
“You ain’t that old.” Only a little older than him. Only enough to prove that he needed to win the big money, have enough to set him up.
“Yeah, well…” They rocked to a stop at the hotel, and thank God there weren’t no blue lights following them. “I need a beer.”
“Okay. You want to go upstairs, or you want the bar?” He sure as shit hoped Mr. Bitchy wasn’t wanting to be social.
“Upstairs.” Putting those boots down hard, Bax stomped into the hotel, daring anyone to so much as look at him, if that glare meant what it usually did.
“Cute-cute.” He rolled his eyes and humped it to the elevators, keeping his head down. Maybe he’d drown the grumpy bastard.
Bax punched their floor and turned on him, growling. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Looks like you are, man.” Jason could feel his chin jut out, fingers fisting up. “You got a burr under your saddle or do you just need to find some fucking buckle bunny to take the edge off?”
“Buckle bunny… Jesus Christ.” Turning back to the doors, Bax clenched his fists and stood there, tense and silent, jaw like steel.
Jason sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. Fuck this shit. He was gonna dump his gear and get the hell out of Dodge. Maybe go shoot some pool. Kick somebody’s ass.
The elevator dinged open and they both stepped forward, bumping shoulders but hard. “Goddamn it.”
Shoving him out of the way, Bax pushed on down the hall, his growl ringing out. “Asshole.”
“Fuck you.” He caught up before Bax managed to get the door open. “Come on, man. Open the fucking door.”
“What, you need to piss or something? You had to go that bad you could have gone downstairs.” Bax fumbled, hands stiff on the little keycard.
“What is your goddamn issue?” He grabbed the card, slammed it in the reader, the little thing bending right in half. “God damn it!” Jason was going to fucking kill something.
“Shit, Mini. That was the stupidest thing I’ve seen today.” Bax grabbed his ass, then dug in Jason’s jeans for his wallet, pulling out the other key.
“Well, it’s the dumbest thing I’ve done today, so we’re even.” If Bax kept touching his butt, he was fixin’ to be embarrassed. Embarrassing. Whichever.
“Jesus fuck.” They sprang apart, Bax finally getting the door open. And damned near letting it slam in his face.
He tossed his gear into the closet and just turned right back around to head out. The edge of the motherfucking door caught him on the riding arm and he growled, punching at it and denting the living fuck out of the wood.
Son of a bitch, that hurt.
“What the fuck? Are you trying to get us charged for room damages?” Bax caught the back of his shirt and hauled his ass back into the room, flinging him in a wide circle.
He stumbled over a pair of boots, landing hard on his butt. Thank God he was used to falling, because he sprung right up swinging, catching Bax square in the belly. “Fucker!”
“Oomph.” Doubling over, Bax grabbed his breadbasket, cussing viciously. “You sorry son of a bitch.” Bax came right after him, launching up to grapple with him, hands punching and pinching.
“Don’t you—” He grunted, turning as Bax caught a nipple, tweaking it hard. “Fuck! Don’t you talk about my momma like that.” He grabbed a hold of Bax’s belt, jerking the bastard off his nipple.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s a figure of— Ow! Jason!” Those eyes went wide, almost shocked, when he got a little too close to the package with his scrabbling hand.
“Sorry.” He just stopped, stepped back and gave them both some room. Fuck. Fuck, he just needed... “I’m gonna jump in the shower.” Cool down. Jack off. Scream. Something.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I… Go on. I’ll order us both a beer.” Bax wouldn’t look at him, always a sign that his buddy was feeling sorry as Hell.
“Okay.” He didn’t wait to see what Bax did—he just locked himself in the bathroom and leaned back against the door. His cock was full and aching like a sore tooth, and he got one hand around it.
Fuckhead. Beautiful bastard. Grumpy asshole fucker cowboy jackass.
Jason wanted a piece of Bax so bad he could taste it.
He stroked himself good and hard, eyes closed, the calluses on his hands so fucking right. Natural. Made him need to know what Bax’s hand would feel like, how those fine fucking fingers would feel, jacking him but good.
It didn’t take but a minute, the adrenaline from the ride and the fight, the knowledge that Bax would be coming back soon, his favorite fantasy—they all just worked together to shove him headlong over the edge.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
Oh, Goddamn.
He caught his breath, going to wash his hand off in the sink so he didn’t get spunk on his clothes.
Shower.
Beer.
Movie.
Then him and Bax could stop snarling for a while.
Maybe.