2. Christian
christian
“Whew!” I hollered, grabbing the discarded bull rope before jumping up and running away from that son of a bitch. I scrambled up the fence like a damn spider monkey. Mile High, a red American bucking bull, was young and didn’t want anything to do with me, even before I entered the chute.
“Cut that one close!” Kale Pardy, my buddy and roommate, yelled from where he was getting ready for his turn.
“Someone needed to tell Mile High here this is just practice, not the big show,” I retorted.
“Don’t think he’s ever had someone as big as you on his back,” Kale shot back.
“You calling me fat?” I guffawed, feigning insult.
“No, just a tall ass motherfucker.”
“Being six foot gives me an advantage!” I called over the arena where I was still perched on the fence rail.
“What advantage is that? Because you’re the only one I’ve seen get close enough to get a horn in the ass.”
“That was one time, dick. I have a higher center of gravity and my long legs can wrap around his girth.”
“Okay, daddy long legs. You just need to lift up your feet more and be quicker on the dismount.”
“Then I won’t get my eight seconds.”
“One day your stubborn ass is going to get yourself hurt,” Kale cautioned.
“I’m determined. I know what I want and ‘surrender’ isn’t part of my vocabulary.”
“Hey!” Chuck yelled. “Stop bitchin’! Kale, mount your bull!”
Maybe I was a stubborn jackass. I could read the double meaning in Kale’s words. It wasn’t just in bull riding but in my obsession with his older sister, Sage.
I’d had a crush on her since the day she showed up at our local rodeo — announcing her permanent move to Willows, Oregon.
The crush quickly turned into obsession.
I’d never seen someone so drop-dead gorgeous.
She had an elegance about her that made her beauty seem timeless.
She had beautiful bronze skin, a straight triangular nose and high cheekbones, piercing amber eyes.
Her black hair was thick and wavy, almost always up, revealing her elegant, slender neck, and that signature red lipstick which turned her already full mouth into a pout that even lip filler could be jealous of.
Too many times I’d jerked off while fantasizing about what that lipstick would look like smeared around my cock.
I could count the number of times I’d asked her out on all my ten fingers and toes.
You’d think the rejection would eventually rip my ego to shreds and I’d give up, but instead it made me even more determined to have her.
I loved the challenge, wanting something I couldn’t have.
Sometimes I worried that once the chase was over I’d get bored and I’d feel bad that I wasted her time.
That’s what happened with every buckle bunny and girlfriend since high school.
But Sage was different.
I lifted my helmet, scratching my forehead where my sweat-darkened blond waves clung to my skin. I needed a haircut. I’d never had it so long. Now it curled around my ears and I tucked it behind them to keep it out of my eyes.
The chute opened and Kale’s bull lunged forward, bucking wildly.
Chuck Larsen, rancher and rodeo trainer, had us practicing on my family’s farm while Thornbrush Ranch was going through smoke remediation.
He’d transported the bulls and chutes in to get us ready for the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas next month.
After months of riding the local circuit and flying to out of town rodeos, I was finally making it to the finals.
Chuck watched the stopwatch in his grip while one of his ranch hands, Jace, distracted the bull once Kale was off. The other hand, Marshall, opened the gate to the chutes for Jace to run him back in.
“Seven-point-four,” Chuck announced.
“Shit!” Kale nearly ripped his helmet off to throw it to the ground in frustration. “My balance was off.”
“We broke our momentum, that’s why. Damn snow took one of our practice days,” I complained, blowing out a thick breath to see it freeze in a cloud.
I gazed out at the farm, seeing Mom and Dad clearing up the autumn detritus.
They’d spent the day winterizing the barns and spreading sand on the horse track.
Mom and Dad bred champion racehorses and Norwegian elkhound hunting dogs.
Both my sisters showed in the hunters for a period of time.
But now they were both married and living in Colorado on their own horse farms. Being the youngest and the only son, Dad was always waiting for me to give up my newest pursuit.
First it was wrestling and football in high school, but when I got that first exhilarating taste of bull riding at twenty, I was addicted.
Now he was biding his time until I gave it up and decided to take over the farm — and the multimillion-dollar horse breeding.
But … stubborn, remember?
That’s not something I wanted right now. I had two goals in mind: One, finally win Sage Pardy’s affection, and two, win a buckle. I was determined to make both happen this year.
Then my dad could have me.
Last rodeo season, I swore to a whole damn bar that she’d grab my ass and beg for it by next summer.
I thoroughly embarrassed her, but I loved getting a reaction out of her.
It meant I affected her. I did that. I drew an emotion from the otherwise closed-off ice queen.
To me that was one step closer to getting what I wanted — Sage Pardy.
“Drinks at The Rooster?” I suggested now that we were finishing up practice.
Kale hopped the fence. His brows rose. “Do you have her work schedule memorized?”
I scoffed. “Come on, you know I do. I had it memorized within the first month of her working there.”
Kale chuckled, shaking his head. He was a supportive brother and friend, but I think even he was getting exasperated with me when it came to my infatuation with his sister.
Pretty sure all of our friends were at that point.
We’d gotten close a couple of times, even an inebriated make out sesh following my best friend Jude and his wife Romy’s wedding.
I thought she would have warmed up to me after that.
But she only seemed to dig her heels in harder and do just about everything to deter my attention. At least Arlo, her dog, loved me.
“All right.” Chuck came around, patting me on the back. “Beers are on me.”
A thrill ran through me. My heart rate kicked up a notch. Adrenaline and endorphins pumped through my veins knowing I was about to see my girl.
Even if she wasn’t mine … yet …
Gotta manifest that shit if I ever want anything to happen for me.
I pulled out my phone and shot her a text.
Me
Ring the bell and throw open the gates! Your man is coming home!
I only had to wait a few beats before the three dots popped up, telling me she was typing.
Wifey
It’s The Rooster, not some medieval village. And you’re not my man.
Me
I could be, for the reasonable price of a beer.
Wifey
You can buy your own damn beer and keep yourself to yourself.
Me
One of these days, baby … one of these days …