Chapter 3
Shiloh
“Why are you over here?” I ask the stranger. I still have no idea what his name is, but I did overhear the last part about him traveling with us around the circuit, and like I said, you've got to be shitting me.
Beau walks over, putting his hand on his shoulder, looking at me then back at him before he says, “Something I don’t know?”
He smirks, biting his lip, and fuck, I can’t look away. He’s sexy, I’ll admit, but no, he’s an asshole.
“We ran into each other at the entry office. I didn't catch your name, though, boots,” he says, smirking and glancing down at my boots.
“Um, you literally knocked me over,” I scold.
“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” He chuckles before he continues, “You were looking at your boots and ran into me. I'm the victim here.”
I look at Cross, who puts his arm around me, looking at him. “You were kind of an asshole about it, though.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they tell me. Anyhow, let's start over. I'm Verge McCoy, and you are?” He says, looking at me with those unique silver eyes, and they are captivating, that’s for sure, but I shove my attraction to him down because I’m convinced he is a cocky bull riding asshole.
“Again, what are you doing here?” I ask, still confused.
I get why Beau is here and why he’s going to be traveling with us, but this guy?
Why? After this show, we all are taking one truck and one trailer.
Beau just drove today because it wasn’t that far.
Next week we will be going to Texas for a rodeo in San Antonio.
“Lighten up, Shiloh. He's Beau’s cousin, and I know he ain't lying. We all know you and how you drag your damn feet,” Cash teases as he stands beside Beau and Verge.
“What do you say, bygones?” Verge says, holding out his hand to mine.
I roll my eyes, but I take his hand, shaking it because whether I like it or not, it seems as if I’m stuck with him for the duration of the season.
“What event are you in, Verge?” I ask.
“Bull riding.”
Just as I thought.
I nod, looking at Cash and Beau before I say, “I suppose that means we will be here all night then, considering bull riding is the last event?”
“Looks like it,” Beau replies and continues, “Verge is about to be top in the circuit."
“Hmm, never heard of you, but okay,” I say, taking a stab at that cocky ego of his, but it backfires quickly.
“Ouch,” I hear Verge say, with his hand to his chest, grinning from ear to ear as he looks back at me and winks. It makes my blood boil, but I ignore him.
Cross takes his arm from around me and reluctantly looks between Verge and me before Cash walks over to introduce him. “This is Cross. He's Shiloh’s heeler.” Cross looks to me before he holds his hand out to Verge, shaking it, shaking his head in a silent nice-to-meet-you way.
He then walks over to his blue mare, Havoc, to saddle her, and I go with him, saddling my chestnut gelding, Riot.
As I’m saddling, I feel his eyes on me, but I ignore them.
I am in no way getting attached or invested in this guy.
I don’t care if he’s traveling with us or not.
I refuse to even be his friend. I can be cordial, but being emotionally invested in a bull rider is not something I am open to.
Don’t get me wrong, we do have friends who were bull riders, but they are all now retired, and ever since then I have kept clear of that crowd for a fucking reason.
Cash does run with that crowd from time to time.
He has a few buddies who bull ride, and as close as we are, I never go along with him.
Sure, I know of them, but I am not opening my heart to anyone that bull rides, even if they are just friends.
We all handle our shit differently. Cash still enjoys hanging and watching that crowd, whereas I avoid it completely most of the time.
After I finish saddling, I hop on Riot and walk off, needing to gather my thoughts. I soon hear hoofbeats after me and look over to see Cross on Havoc before he says, “Well, ain't that some shit.”
“Why didn’t Beau tell us he was coming? He better chip in, that's all I have to say,” I snap, glancing over my shoulder, and I see him lighting up another cigarette and roll my eyes.
Bull riders, I think to myself. Ninety-nine percent of them smoke, and I usually find it very unappealing, but I’d be lying if I said he didn’t make it look sexy.
Verge has this swagger about him, and as much as I’m trying to deny it, I’m fucking drawn to it.
I’ll fight it as long as I can. I have no time to even consider a man.
My sights are set, and they are not set on Verge McCoy, that’s for damn sure.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the next team is a crowd favorite, the dynamic duo. Heading is Shiloh Hillard riding Let’s Riot and heeling Cross Riggins riding Queen of Havoc. Let’s see if they can beat out her brother, Cash Hillard, and his partner, Beau Lock. The time to beat is 6.5 seconds.”
The announcers are loud over the mic as Cross and I make our way to the box.
Riot is hot as I hold him back, and Havoc is right on the edge of exploding too.
As the steer makes its way into the chute, Cross looks over at me, his rope in his hand, winking, letting me know he’s ready when I am.
I smile, ready for action. The cowboy has his hand on the steer chute and looks to me as I nod, letting him know we’re good to go.
The chute gate opens, and the steer shoots out.
Cross and I take off, and I swing my rope over my head, letting it go at just the right time as it lands perfectly around the steer's horns, and I dally it around my saddle horn, turning right hard to angle the steer for Cross to scoop up his hind legs in an instant.
“Wow, that right there is why we call them the dynamic duo. These two are unstoppable with a time of 4.5 seconds. Your new leaders are here to stay, folks!”
I smile, laughing as the cowboys let our ropes loose and the steer makes its way to the back of the arena. As Cross and I make our way out of the arena, we high-five in victory and look down to Cash, who is holding a twenty between his fingers, rolling his eyes.
I scoop it up, saying, “Why, thank you, sir.”
“You got lucky,” he mocks.
“Lucky for the fifth time in a row. I think it’s just talent at this point,” Cross laughs, riding by him, and Cash smacks Havoc on the rear, making her hop up, and we all laugh together.
Cash and I always have a bet as to who will win the whole thing, but whoever comes out on top between us gets $20. However, after giving me $100 within the past five rodeos, I’d wager to say he’s about over it.
I make my way back to the trailer and hop off of Riot, petting his neck and tying him up. I look around and see that Cross is now sitting at the arena on Havoc, watching the show beside a pretty blonde on her horse, who I’d bet this $20 in my hand is a barrel racer.
“Hell of run there, boots,” I hear from behind me, and I startle to see Verge leaning up against the trailer, blowing out a puff of smoke.
I go to look down at my boots, then think better of it before I say, “It’s Shiloh.”
He smirks, and, damnit, I didn’t notice before the dimples in his cheeks that appear as he smiles.
He’s dressed now in a black pearl snap, wranglers, and chaps, seemingly ready to go in a little while.
He drops his cigarette in the dirt, stepping on it with his boot before he says, “So, why are you trying so hard to hate me?”
I roll my eyes as I pull my saddle off, looking at him, "First of all, that’s a gross habit,” is all my smart ass can think to come up with at the moment.
He chuckles, taking his stetson off and running his hand through his dark hair before putting it back on and says, “So they say.” He squints his eyes looking out to the arena, then walking closer to me, blocking my way to the tack room, and shit, he smells good, like leather and cedar all rolled up into one.
Well, not to mention the cigarette smoke, but damn, he masks it well with whatever cologne he has on.
He looks down at me and asks, “But really, why do I get under that thick skin of yours?”
“Because you’re arrogant,” I say, walking past him, brushing my shoulder with his like I did the first time we met.
“Not arrogant, confident,” he corrects behind me.
I let out a humorless chuckle before I say, “Same thing.”
“If you say so..” he replies, shaking his head and walking closer to me. He leans down to whisper in my ear, “See you around, boots.”
A chill runs up my spine at his closeness and his warm breath in my ear.
Fuck.
As he walks off, I watch him, letting my eyes linger long enough, and he glances back at me and winks. I have got to get a damn grip and stop staring at him if I want to continue this I’m-not-attracted-to-you vibe I have going.
After a little while, I decide sitting at the trailer alone is no fun and head to the arena to sit with Cash and Beau. Just as I sit down on the bleachers, Cross walks up, sitting beside me, and I ask, “Where’s blondie?”
He shrugs. “She went home, I suppose.”
“You looked smitten,” I tease.
He nudges my shoulder with his before he says, “She was cute, but she had the personality of a wet rag.”
I burst into laughter. Cross is very selective with women.
If they don’t share his sense of humor and are not very outgoing, he’s not interested.
I really don’t think a cowgirl is his type at all, if I’m being honest. He goes for more of the girlie girls.
For a long time, I thought he’d be into the barrel racers, and he tries, but they never seem to really impress him. Only time will tell.
“So how much longer? It is getting chilly,” I ask, and Beau looks over to me.
“Well, Verge is on deck, but we gotta stay ‘till it's over to see if he wins.” I am annoyed that we have to stay all night, but I know the guys want to watch, and I don’t want to be a party pooper. As much as Verge irritates the living shit out of me already, I need to get over it because whether I like it or not, he’s here to stay.
“In chute number one, we have a Colorado cowboy who's climbing high here with his points in the PRCA, Verge McCoy riding Dust and Smoke,” the announcer says into the mic.
My palms get sweaty as I glance down at my boots.
I put my hands in my jacket pockets, trying to hide the fact that my hands are now in fists and my nails are digging into my palms. I’ve glanced over at the bull riding a time or two since that night, but I have never watched anyone I have known ride ever again.
My leg starts to bounce up and down, and Cross looks over, putting his hand on my leg.
He leans over to whisper in my ear, “Calm down.”
I purse my lips together, clearing my throat before I say, “I’m fine. I’m just cold, that's all.”
He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him before he says, “Uh huh.”
Cross knows me too well. Cash and I are close, but not like Cross and I are. With the age gap between Cash and me, he is a good, protective big brother, as he should be, and we cut up, but Cross and I are thick as thieves, always have been. He's my best friend.
Looking over, I see Verge glance up to the stands, and his eyes lock with mine before he gives me that signature arrogant smirk, and I scoff when I see it, but it sends a wave of electricity through me that I can’t quite place.
He nods as the chute opens, and the bull flies out of the chute, spinning and bucking.
He holds tight. His form is impeccable, if I’m being honest. He almost makes it look effortless, and I look at the clock…
3 seconds. The way he moves with the bull is poetic; it's like he’s in this bulls head, knowing his every turn.
Memories of my dad riding flash through my brain and the love I used to have for watching him and watching this sport alone.
The world slows down around me as I watch him ride the hell out of this bull, and suddenly the buzzer blows at 8 seconds, and he pulls his rope free, hopping off the bull, and I let out the breath of air I was holding when his feet meet the dirt.
Cross looks at me as the air in my lungs comes back to me and says, “Just cold, huh?”
I shove him. “Shut up.”
I can’t deny it. Something about watching Verge ride made me excited and nervous all at the same fucking time. All I can think is, don't go there, Shiloh. Don’t go there.