9. Dallas
DALLAS
“Keep up, slowpoke. It’s starting.” Jo is pulling me behind her toward the sound of loud male voices hollering into the open field.
The darkness is filled with thick, looming shadows around old trucks parked in a grassy, makeshift parking lot.
“Where are we?” I wasn’t paying attention to the route since Jo was driving, but it took us over an hour to get here from my apartment in Elmott. We didn’t pass through a single town on the way.
“Some guy’s ranch. Never met him. His grandpa started The Riders.”
“What’s The Riders?”
“An underground bull riding ring. It runs on illegal betting and cowboys who are just crazy enough to compete, knowing the bulls they’re riding were often kicked out of the Pbr for being too dangerous.
Old Texas ranchers with too much money and time on their hands love to watch reckless young ranch hands risk their lives for all of eight seconds of entertainment and the potential to win the five-figure jackpot.
A few guys have died during it from blunt force trauma to their heads. It can get intense.”
I try to process everything she just said, wondering if we’re actually safe here.
“Are we here to see someone?”
When she invited me to hang out with her because I was kid-free and depressed at home, I assumed she meant for some wine drinking and two-stepping at Old Harry’s.
My pulse sputters when the arena comes into view.
There are a ton of people here, men and women scattered around the temporary steel-paneled fence that’s been erected in the center of the field.
Construction floodlights are at the four corners of the square, all pointed to the center, where a man is currently being dragged by his boot, caught in a rope around a copper-colored bull.
He’s screaming bloody murder while two men on horseback are trying to loosen the strap around the bull’s flank. The crowd is roaring as they watch—some hands clasped over mouths, all eyes on the man’s head nearly getting trampled every time the bull turns his massive body and stomps on the ground.
Jo tugs my hand again, breaking my stupor. “I’m here for my dad. He wants me to bet on someone.”
I wasn’t born and raised in this environment like Jo was.
My parents live in Florida now, but I was a military brat who grew up all over the US.
I’m not a country girl. I’ve never even been to a rodeo or ridden a horse, which is why I don’t really know where the twins get their cowboy fascination from.
She’s dragging me toward a wrinkled old man wearing a black cowboy hat and a red leather vest. Without a word, she hands him a wad of cash.
I wince as the cowboy being dragged finally gets his boot free. He lies in the dirt, completely still. My heart is in my throat, as I assume he’s dead.
The horseback riders herd the bull away from him, toward an opening in the pen, where he’s ushered out into the chutes that have more bulls waiting to carry more men to their untimely deaths.
I gape at the scene as the man finally moves.
I exhale a sigh of relief, thankful I didn’t just witness a brutal death by bull dragging.
A couple of men loitering by the fence finally go over to him, lifting him up by each arm.
His shirt is ripped open, blood gushing out of an invisible wound. They drag him out of the arena.
Jo pulls me farther around until we find an opening. She grabs the steel pipe, grinning at me. “Cool, right?”
I blink at her, wondering if we watched the same horrific scene unfolding. “Uh, I guess?”
She snorts. “You’re such a city girl.”
I guess she’s right, but I don’t know if I’m cut out for the country-girl life if this is the normal Friday night activity. I’m fine with the dirt, the hay bales, and definitely the shirtless-cowboys part, but I could do without witnessing near-death experiences.
“This is … intense.”
She shrugs. “They know what they’re signing up for.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat, wishing I had a drink to get through this. A little buzz might make it easier to stomach.
“Redford!” the announcer calls through a speaker.
My head spins as I look for the next rider.
“They’re over there, behind where the bull went through.”
“Who is it?”
She shrugs. “Could be any of them. They all ride.”
My stomach clenches. Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed that they made good enough money running the ranch to live comfortably, but it certainly seems like it. They have a huge house, tons of equipment and cattle. All of them drive a nice truck.
“They don’t do it for the money.” She somehow reads my mind.
I turn to her, pursing my lips as I wait for her to continue.
The announcer interrupts, “You’ve all seen this cowboy ride a time or two by now. He’s bold, and he doesn’t like to lose. I guess when you grow up on one of the biggest ranches in Texas with all the crazy older brothers he has, it’s in your blood.”
My heart gallops like it’s going to explode right out of my chest. I grip the fence, wondering why the hell I care if he dies.
He’s such a good kisser. It would be a shame for all the women who haven’t gotten to experience it. Which is probably not very many, considering his man-whoring ways.
Jo points out where Duke is climbing onto the back of a pale gray bull. He’s not even wearing a helmet. The Stetson he has on is the same one I accidentally stole, and other than that, he’s shirtless.
What is with this guy and not wearing a shirt?
“Why is he half naked?” I ask.
“He’s always done it that way. I think it was Cash who dared him to do it one time. It’s his signature thing now. The women go crazy for it.”
Yeah, I’ll bet they do.
I can already hear them screaming his name to the left. It’s a large group of girls who look like they’re in their early twenties, every single one of them drop-dead gorgeous.
I’m sure he’ll have his pick of the litter before the night ends.
Just another reminder that I need to stay far away. I don’t have any extra emotional energy to spare right now.
I watch a dark-haired girl stand on the fence and cup around her mouth to scream at him, “Duke! I love you, baby! You’re my dream man!”
“Wow.”
Jo rolls her eyes. “Desperation is never attractive.”
Duke isn’t paying attention to his fan club as he settles on the back of the bull. I gulp down over the bundle of nerves trapped in my throat when the buzzer sounds and the gate opens.
The bull stands still, silencing the crowd. Duke’s muscles are taut, his head turned down.
Suddenly, the animal takes off, jerking toward the arena so fast that I can’t fathom how he could possibly be holding on. I clap my hand over my mouth and gape in horror at the scene.
The bull spins around in a circle before throwing his back end so high up that I can’t figure out how Duke manages to stay on.
I think I might pass out. There’s no way it hasn’t been eight seconds.
Every muscle in his arms, shoulders, and abs are coiled so tight that he looks like he’s been Photoshopped.
The image of the last rider being dragged and nearly trampled enters my mind. Nausea swirls in my gut, and I think I might actually vomit when Duke loses his balance and his body falls to the right.
I gasp, leaning forward. He somehow rights himself and pulls back up. He’s closer to us now, and I know his time has to be up. A buzzer sounds, and I want to scream at him to get off and away from the terrifying monster.
He tries to jump off, but the bull jerks, and he stumbles to the ground, his body hitting it hard as he rolls through the dirt. My mind is in a daze as I watch the bull’s hooves nearly trample him.
Please, God, protect him!
I don’t even remember the last time I prayed, but now feels like the time for holy intervention. Duke keeps rolling until he’s nearly at the fence right in front of me. I back up as the bull sees him, clearly planning to charge. Duke’s eyes meet mine briefly, flashing in surprise.
I point behind him, screaming, “Look out!”
The horseback riders cut in front of the angry bull just in time. Duke jumps up, grabbing the fence and pulling himself up on the bottom ring. His hat has flown off. The horse’s body brushes past him as the rider distracts the bull by yelling.
My hand is pressed against my chest, my eyes bugging out of my head. I’m panting, wondering if I’m about to have a full-on heart attack.
Duke steps down from the fence, watching the bull until he’s on the other end of the arena before his blue eyes find mine.
“Hey there, darlin’.” He smirks, leaning up against the steel frame as if he didn’t almost die ten seconds ago. “You drive all the way out here just to cheer me on?”
I gape at him, my mind blanking on how to even respond to his clear case of insanity.
“Duke! Baby, I’m your biggest fan!” The brunette girl from earlier is screaming his name.
My eyes drift over to where she is, about ten yards down the fence line. I blink in surprise when she lifts her cropped top and flashes him her perky, bare breasts, which have clearly never been the human milk machine for twin babies for over a year.
My mouth dries up as I meet his eyes again. “Um, you have a fan club over there.”
His eyes never leave mine. He licks his lips. “Is that so?”
My body feels like it’s caught fire, slowly burning under his steady, unnerving gaze. He bends down to grab his hat from the dirt near his boots. His muscled back has a bruise already forming, probably from the impact when he hit the ground. I step back as he climbs over the fence.
“Are you okay?” I finally ask once his feet are safely on the ground and I feel like I can breathe again.
He shakes his head, hat in his hands. “No. I need you to kiss it better.”
“Kiss what better?”
He turns the back of his shoulder toward me, where the angry mark is. “Right here.” He taps his tanned skin.
I blow out a breath, wondering how many eyes are on us right now. I shouldn’t do this. I should tell him to ask the brunette, who would probably do a lot more than just kiss his shoulder.
But some otherworldly force pulls me forward, the need to be desired too strong for me to resist in this moment with him standing there, shirtless and bruised.
I lift up on my tiptoes and press my lips gently to the flushed skin. When my eyes flicker up to meet his, I know I made a mistake.
Because Duke Redford looks hungrier than ever as his eyes darken and settle over me.
I’m truly fucked.