20. Colt
Chapter 20
Colt
“You hit the dirt hard last week but looked locked in out there today. How much sweeter does this ride feel after the last event?” Jimmy from Pro-Rodeo Magazine asks from the front seat.
I lean into the microphone sitting on the table in front of me, plastering on my best country boy smile. I can’t count the number of post-ride press events I’ve been to, and I know exactly how to give them what they want.
“I’ll tell you, Jimmy. It sure hurts a lot less,” I joke, earning a few chuckles. “In all seriousness, it felt great up there tonight. Like that bull was made just for me. Couldn’t have been sweeter.”
It’s a lie. It felt like my shoulder was being torn apart the entire time, but I keep that shit to myself. No fan wants to hear their rider whine. They see us as something inhuman. Unbreakable. I catch movement at the back of the room. Callie slips in and leans against the wall, arms loosely crossed. She looks tired, not used to the constant days on the road moving from one place to the next. I’ll make sure we stay another night here, let her get some rest before heading out.
But she still looks damn good in those jean shorts, cut high up on her thighs, revealing inch after inch of golden skin that has my mouth watering and my cock growing stiff. The table is the only thing saving me from embarrassment. She smirks when I nearly miss the next question I’m so stuck staring at her.
“A few points behind Kane, momentum on your side, feels like blood in the water. Do you think this rivalry brings out your best?”
Kane… they’re never going to get over asking me about Maverick, always looking for that juicy sound bite, and I’m here to give them what they want.
“There’s no slacking off when going up against Kane. He’s a good opponent. He’s smooth on the bull and works hard, but I work harder. I don’t need him to show me how to be the best. I’m already the best,” I answer, giving them the cocky bull rider they expect.
Does Kane bring out my best? Yeah, he fucking does. Competing against him, crushing him, has been my main motivation for a while now. Not that I’m admitting that to anyone. He knows exactly how to piss me off and drive me harder to kick his ass the next time. Rinse and repeat.
My fingers drum against the table as time drags on while they run through the standard questions. I haven’t been able to pull my attention away from Callie this entire time. A rider I’d like to kill has been leaning in close, whispering in her ear for the last five minutes. He brought her a water, and the smile she gave him damn near had me off this stage. Jealousy is not a good look on me, but at this point, I’m so far gone I’ve accepted it.
“Be honest are you sick of hearing Maverick Kane’s name yet?”
Chuckles fill the room.
The next reporter cuts me a break and tees me up with an easy one. “After everything your body’s been through, has there ever been a moment where you thought, ‘This might be the last one’?”
“Never,” I reply instantly. “Injuries are another part of the sport. Hell, can you call yourself the best if you’ve never ridden with a few broken bones?” I pause for the laughter, then continue. “You don’t become a bull rider if you’re not prepared to come face-to-face with death. It’s staring the reaper in the eyes and telling him ‘not today’ that makes you a winner.”
I perk up when Callie waves the guy off, clearly broken hearted. That’s right, asshole. She’s already taken.
Callie’s arms cross tightly over her chest, and her head bows low. She looks like she’s protecting herself from something. If that asshole said something to her…
The reporters lean into questions about my injuries. Always a fun topic for them, less for me.
“Just how many broken bones have you had?”
“Counting when my ribs pierced my lungs?” I smirk. “Too many to count.”
They eat this shit up. The more gruesome we get hurt, the bigger the high when we win. Fans get to feel the rush without the pain, but they love hearing all about it.
The room laughs, but Callie’s not laughing. My gut clenches when the last of her color drains from her face, like she’s just come face-to-face with a ghost. The more they ask about my injuries, the worse she gets, until I’m starting to climb out of my seat for real.
“I think that’s enough for tonight. I’ve got to go and ice some of these aches before they settle in.”
“One more question.”
I pause.
“When it comes down to Vegas, do you really think you can beat Kane?”
My molars crush together, and I take three calming breaths before I can answer the question. He’s really digging into me with this one.
“The championship comes down to who’s willing to put the most on the line, and it’s going to be me.”
My satisfaction with my answer disintegrates when Callie disappears from the room like she’s being chased. Even from here, her movements are frantic, jerky as she pushes through the crowd and escapes out the back.
Maverick’s standing at the end of the table, up next to take the hot seat, but his eyes are firmly fixed on where our girl disappeared.
My shoulder brushes his when I walk by, and he shifts closer.
“Find out what’s wrong. Text me, and I’ll be right behind you,” he rasps, a low rumble edged with concern. It holds a weight that says, I’m trusting you.
“I was going after her whether you asked me to or not,” I hiss but then soften my tone. “I’ll text you when I find her.”
Finding Callie isn’t as easy as it should be. She’s not in the halls or our locker room. By the time I search out back where our trucks are, my heart’s starting to drum in my ears. Where the hell did she go? She looked sick as hell by the time she took off. Thoughts of the worst flood over me. She could be passed out somewhere, needing me. Fear and frustration course through my veins as I turn on my heels and make my way back inside.
“Fuck, what’s gotten into you?” Luke stops me with a hand on my chest before I can make it through the door. “Easy, killer. Your girl caught a ride back to the hotel with some of the guys.”
“What the fuck? And you just let her?”
“Let her?” he scoffs. “Oh, you’re funny.”
I’ve got nothing to say to that because he’s right, but that doesn’t piss me off any less.
“Listen, I’ll take pity on you and not drag this out. I checked. She went with Samson. You know how much he loves his wife. He’d never let anything happen to her.”
Luke’s words have some of the tension uncoiling in my shoulders. Samson’s a good guy. Even if one of the other guys is an asshole, Samson won’t put up with that shit.
“I would have held her off. Come up with some excuse. But she didn’t look good though.”
My skin itches with the need to get to her, to see for myself that she’s alright, to take care of her if she isn’t. I’m scanning the parking lot for my truck when reality slams into me. Fuck. I don’t want to waste time waiting for Maverick’s interview to end.
“Give me your keys.” I hold my hand out to Luke.
“What the hell, man?”
“I’m serious. Give them to me.” I can’t hide the growl in my voice, and his brows shoot to his hairline.
“I still have my interview. How am I supposed to get back?”
“Catch a ride with Maverick.”
“Fuck… fine. But you owe me.” He shoves the keys in my hands.
“Yeah… whatever you want,” I say and register his surprised look before hauling ass to his truck. There’s no way he could ask for something that I care about more than getting to Callie as soon as possible. Just thinking about her alone in the motel room while not feeling well is eating me alive.
I pull up Maverick’s number while waiting at the longest damn red light on the planet. There’s a maximum of four cars traveling on this road a day; what the hell do they need a light for?
I haven’t used his number in a while, so I forgot I named him Buttlicker.
Me: Callie went to the motel with Samson. I took Luke’s truck and on my way.
Buttlicker: What’s taking you so long.
This fucker. I shove it into my pocket. It buzzes again, and a muscle twitches in my cheek. This fucking asshole. It keeps buzzing until I finally can’t take anymore.
My thumb slips over the Accept button before I can even register it’s a call.
“Listen to me.” Maverick sounds dead serious, and shivers crawl up my neck, raising the back of my hair. “There’s something going on with her that she’s not telling us. I found her in a rough way after the last event.”
“And you’re just telling me this now?” I grit out, knuckles white on the steering wheel as I take the next turn too fast, tires squealing in my wake.
“She doesn’t want to tell anyone.”
“Oh, but she told you?”
“No, she didn’t tell me. I found her having a fucking panic attack.”
He might as well have punched through my chest. “What… what do you mean?”
“I mean she was gasping for breath and didn’t even know I was there. So yeah, hurry your ass up and get to her.”
The truck bounces as the tire rolls over the curb, too impatient to drive to the entrance.
“I’m at the motel. Get here. Now.”
Grateful we keep our adjoining door open, I walk right into her room, my mind still reeling from what Maverick just told me.
“Oh my God,” Callie squeaks, hand squeezing the top of her towel. “You scared me.”
“I scared you? Why did you run off like that?” The words flow on their own, my only focus getting to her. Once I’m close enough, I can make out the pink swelling around her eyes and the red tinge to her nose. There’s a tearing sensation in my chest, and I wrap my arm around her back, pulling her against me. I run my thumb under her lashes. “Have you been crying?”
“Just a little dust in my eye. You’re overreacting.” She struggles to break free, but I don’t let her.
My girl is lying to me, and I want to know why.
“What’s wrong? I can’t fix this unless you tell me.”
“I’m not asking you to fix this,” she whispers, then takes a deep, jagged breath and does her best to smile. “Just don’t get hurt.”
“You worried about me?”
She flinches, facing down, a slight tremble running through her, ripping me apart. I’ve been such an idiot. Of course she’s scared after what happened with her dad. And I’m out here saying I’ll put it all on the line to win the championship. That facing death is a part of the sport with my full fucking chest. Guilt’s a twisting rope, knotting my gut.
All of this is because of me.
“I’ll be more careful. I won’t get hurt anymore,” I promise.
“Tell that to the bull,” she says with a hollow laugh.
“Yeah, those Harper Ridge Ranch ones are vicious.” I try to make a joke, but I’m so far off the mark. She jerks in my hold. I might as well have hit her.
I’m not good at this. I can play the crowd as the cocky rider, but these soft moments?
I’m lost. I cup her face in my palms, conscious of how delicate she feels in my hold.
“Hey, I’m really going to be okay. I’m good at this. I know when to bail when things get sticky.”
Even as I say it, it rings false.
Winning in bull riding means to be bold, reckless.
“You can’t bail if you want the championship,” Callie says, voice soft and understanding. She knows. Of course she does.
“I…” Fuck. Can I win and ride cautiously? Is that even possible?
There’s a spread between me and the guy below me, but I won’t catch Maverick.
“That’s what I thought.” Her soft lips meet mine, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“I’m not asking you for that. I will never ask you to give anything but your all. Riding is your life. It’s everything you worked so hard for. Every torn muscle, blood, sweat, and tears you’ve poured into this have been to win.”
“Fuck.” I kiss her hard, teeth clinking against hers as I frantically pull her closer. She’s handing me the whole damn world, and I don’t even know if I deserve it.
We break apart, each gasping for breath, and I grit out, “This isn’t over.”
Her fingers dig into my hair, nails scraping my scalp, as she tries to take control of the kiss.
I’m barely holding on as is. I know there’s still more left we need to talk about.
“Callie,” I pant, straining to keep my shit together.
She smiles at me, and it’s so devious I already know I’m fucked before she lets go of her towel.
The white fabric hits the floor, and suddenly, it’s her skin pressed under my palm.
I groan deep in my throat, blood pulsing to my cock, making it so hard it hurts.
I’ve never claimed to be a saint, so I take what she’s offering, let her distract me away from what she doesn’t want to talk about.
I run my hand up and down her back in a slowly growing arc with each pass.
My fingers travel from the base of her neck all the way down to the swell of her ass.
Goose bumps rise under my touch, and it’s hard for me to take my next breath.
She’s so sensitive, body responding to my every move.
I shift lower, cupping her ass, and fucking come apart when she whimpers against my neck, pressing her hips against mine.
“Asshole. You were supposed to text me.” Maverick’s yell can be heard from around the corner, seconds before he walks through the adjoining door and freezes in place.
Callie stiffens in my arms, trembling fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt, holding on to me. With shallow breaths, she waits for Maverick’s reaction.
I hold her firmly in place when she squirms, flight instincts kicking in. There’s no way I’m letting her go now.
He takes his time, soaking in Callie’s naked body, pressed against mine.
His gaze stalls where her fingers clasp me to her, then where I’m still gripping her ass. “Well, don’t stop on my account.”
“I… I… uh,” Callie starts but stutters, not knowing how to go forward.
“I’m going to need you to tell me what you want,” Maverick says, taking a step closer. His large frame fills her entire vision.
“I want… I…”
Callie’s heart pounds into my chest, and her chin trembles as she tries to come up with an answer.
I glare at Maverick. He better hurry the fuck up he’s scaring our girl.
“Do you want me to leave, Wildflower?” Maverick rasps, throat raw, pain audible in his question.
It’s his turn to stiffen, jaw clenched, arms crossed over his chest like he’s bracing for her response.
I’ve seen him stare down bulls and not look this terrified. The tendons in his neck are pulled taut, and a muscle ticks in his jaw from the force of keeping himself in place as he waits for her answer.
“I don’t want you to.” She sucks in a ragged breath. “I don’t want either of you to go.”
I dig my fingers into the soft rounds of her ass, squeezing it hard in approval.
A soft whimper escapes her lips, and my cock jerks in my pants, straining to escape.
If we don’t hurry it the hell up, I’ll embarrass myself by coming in my pants.
“Just keep it fair.”
It’s a low command, Maverick’s tone firm, but even he can’t hide the heat, the desperation to get to her.
Fuck.
We’re really doing this.
“I will.”
It’s a whispered promise, nearly impossible to hear, but Maverick must know what she said because he pulls his shirt off with one hand, revealing a chest carved from years of riding, of holding on through every twist and buck.
The shadows catch on every line of him.
He’s not just strong but he’s built for control, for endurance.
And fuck me, I notice.
My mouth waters. I swallow it down, but it lingers, thick in my throat.
I shouldn’t be okay with this.
I should be jealous. Angry.
He’s my rival. The one person who knows exactly how to push me over the edge.
But instead of fury, I feel… calm. Settled.
Like some missing gear inside me just clicked into place.
Because watching him move toward her, toward us feels right.
Undeniably, gut-deep right.
Callie holds her breath between us, her eyes wide and glassy, searching mine for an answer.
And she’s going to get it. Every fucking inch of it.
“Keep it fair, Callie,” I say, low and rough, just to see her tremble.
Her breath stutters. Tears bloom at the corners of her eyes overwhelmed, beautiful, desperate and I catch them with my thumbs, never looking away.
She’s here. With us .
And even though we’re seconds from wrecking her in all the best ways, I feel the wildest need to cherish her. To make sure she knows this isn’t just about sex.
It’s about finally having her. The three of us. All in.
Her lips ghost against mine, her voice just as shaky as her hands.
“I promise.”
Then she kisses me again, making it clear just how much she means it.
She wants us both, needs us both, equally.
There’s only one girl in the world who could handle us both, and she’s right here in my arms.
I kiss her back, breathing in her eager moans as she rubs her hips into me, directly into my swollen cock.
My gaze meets Maverick’s dark one as he presses against her back, wrapping her hair around his palm, tugging it to the side, and whispers into her neck:
“ Good girl .”