Rodeo
OLLIE
SEPTEMBER
The chill that coursed through me as I took my seat back in the boxed section with Bad had nothing to do with the AC being cranked all the way up in the arena. It had everything to do with the glacial glare Cash’s mom aimed my way.
Well, there was no doubt about it, the woman hated me. But thanks to the drinks Bad got me from the bar, I didn’t feel quite so flighty. I was still annoyed as hell with the situation that Cash thrust me into, but I’d deal with him later.
Walker’s whiskey gaze met mine a moment before she leaned in and asked quietly, “You okay?”
I took a sip of my margarita and nodded. “Never better.”
Not anywhere near the truth, but also not a total lie. Either way, I’d be fine to deal with the mama bear glaring daggers at me from across the way.
The rodeo announcer’s voice blasted through the speakers, asking everyone to please stand as “America The Beautiful” bounced off the arena walls while a group of female riders bedecked in red, white, and blue uniforms performed a drill pattern on horseback.
At the end, a local girl came out into the arena and performed the National Anthem.
Considering she was probably a freshman in high school, she sounded pretty good, but that didn’t stop Violet from leaning toward Bad after it ended, hand still firmly planted over her heart while whispering, “Jacie Lynn sings it better.”
I rolled my eyes. Well, if nothing else, at least you could say the woman was loyal…to a fault.
Bad chuffed at her side and patted her shoulder before glancing at me.
I wondered what he meant about how I reminded him of her.
It certainly wasn’t our looks, unless she was hiding a plethora of tattoos underneath her gaudy outfit, but somehow I highly doubted that.
Who fucking knew with that man. I felt more conflicted now than I was when I first stepped onto the rodeo grounds, but there was no backing out now.
“Bareback’s startin’,” Violet said, taking a seat.
Then louder, without looking at me, “So…Ollie was it, why’re you here in my box seats?
” There wasn’t quite as much…hostility in her tone this time around.
Either that, or maybe she finally realized she couldn’t get rid of me that easily, so there was curiosity mixed in as well.
Bad covered his mouth to hide a chuckle before glancing back to offer me a nod as if to say, go ahead and answer.
Only half-heartedly trying to veil my annoyance, I replied, “Cash invited me. He’s giving me roping lessons so I can compete in this tournament at the end of December.”
She snorted, the sound reminding me of, well…me. Okay, maybe Bad did have a point, though I’d refuse to admit it. “Bless your heart, honey. The Christmas Classic is a breakaway ropin’ competition, not a tournament. If you’re gonna be competin’, you best know what you’re talkin’ about.”
Heaven help me, I was going to murder this woman. When I ended up on Dateline or America’s Most Wanted list, this lady right here would be why.
Nearly draining my margarita, I bit out, “Good to know.”
She didn’t bother to look at me, but Bad did. And I couldn’t help but think there was a glimmer of…approval in his hazel gaze so similar to his son’s.
Fuck, the Mooney’s really did have good genes.
The announcer’s voice garnered my attention, directing everyone to the bucking chutes.
I had no idea how the logistics of picking your ride or order went, or if it was completely at random, but with each contestant that rode my excitement swelled more and more.
When he announced Cash’s name and the horse he was riding, The Ghoul, I was all but bouncing from foot to foot.
“Come here, girls.” Bad waved us over, pointing at chute number two that had a large Boot Barn banner plastered to the front of it. “Fuckerhead’s up next.”
A hum of laughter rumbled in my chest. The man spoke my language.
Affection veiled as nicknames and insults was just the kind of humor I liked.
I made my way to stand next to him, Walker squeezing between me and Violet.
Thank God. It’s not like I was scared of her, but I also didn’t like how on edge she made me feel.
Meeting a guy’s parents wasn’t something I did a bunch. More like at all. And again, we weren’t even dating. Like, not even a little.
Sure as day, Cash was settling himself onto the bronc's back, his neon pink kevlar vest a beacon among the much tamer colors the contestants wore.
Fucking show off.
But as bright and loud as his fashion sense was, I couldn’t lie, it was eye-catching.
Flashy. And it worked. I noticed Ryder and Maverick waiting close to the chutes, perched atop the pipestall fencing as if waiting to hop into the arena should things take a dangerous turn.
And while I wasn’t a religious person by any means, I found myself sending up a silent prayer for him to have a clean ride.
The seconds ticked by, everyone waiting with bated breath. I gripped the cool, metal fencing, my fingers biting into the meat of my palms. Why was I so nervous? But there was no denying the way my heart fluttered in my ribcage like a million butterflies had been released.
The gate slammed open with a bang, and Cash and the bucking bronc bounded toward the center of the arena.
There was something magnetic, electric about the way he rode.
I know I’d all but insulted him about his profession—getting a buckle for getting bucked off—but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Each movement he made was fluid with the horse, each jab of his spurs intentional.
A dangerous dance between the bronc and its rider.
He had that same intense look in his eyes that he had anytime he came across something particularly entertaining or challenging. So, basically, all the time.
Fuck, he was magnificent. Honestly, I didn’t really have any other words to describe it.
I’d never been into cowboys before, never really appreciated what they did, but maybe that’s because I didn’t know what I was looking at.
Since working for Broken Creek, it was like my eyes had finally been opened and I was seeing it all in a brand new light.
The buzzer went off, marking a successful eight second ride, and the crowd went wild—myself included.
But as loud as I was, I didn’t hold a candle to Violet Mooney.
Which wasn’t at all surprising. Placing her fingers to her lips, she let out an unearthly whistle that I wasn’t completely convinced I’d fully recover from. Even now, my ears still rang a bit.
“Getcha some money,” Bad huffed at my side, fisting his right hand before bumping it against the fence.
The grin on Cash’s face was absolutely luminous, his excitement all but thrumming from him as he pulled his hand free and hopped onto the back of the pickup man’s horse before landing in the arena sand on his feet.
Music boomed from the speakers and the crowd cheered as Cash Mooney picked his hat up off the ground and aimed across the arena…
Straight for our box seats.
I frowned. What the hell was he doing?
Level by level, he climbed the rungs until he towered over me from the other side. His sandalwood and sage scent floated around me, his brows coated in a thin layer of sweat. His voice was a bit breathless as he spoke. “How’d I do for just gettin’ bucked off, sugar?”
So, he remembered my comment. Nothing got by him. He was such an arrogant fucker, but it heated the desire pumping through my veins all the same. I loved a man with confidence, and Cash Mooney was drenched in it.
I rolled my eyes, but there was no holding back a smile of my own. “You were…adequate.”
Lies. He was fucking fantastic, but he already knew that. No need to stroke his ego further.
His grin tugged wider—if that was even possible—and he pulled his hat off his head before placing it on mine. “You know you want a piece of Big Daddy,” he said, tilting my chin up.
And ever the cocky bastard that he was, Cash hurled himself away from the fence, backflipping before landing in the arena once more.
Sand shot up from around his boots as he pumped a fist in the air once before blowing me a kiss.
“Big Daddy’s in the house!” he crowed, causing the crowd to go wild once more.
Dear God, Cash Mooney really was going to be the death of me.
Walker fidgeted with the neon orange wristband as we made our way to the bar after the rodeo. Apparently, the honky tonk was the go to place for contestants and rodeo goers once the day was done.
“Do they really gotta broadcast it to the world that I’m underage?” she huffed.
I snorted. “I bet if you go back over to the bouncer and flash him your tits, he might let it slide that you don’t turn twenty-one for a few more weeks.”
“Ollie!” she gasped, smacking my arm playfully.
“Ouch! That was rude.” But there was no malice in my words. “It’s true though. I saw him checking you out.”
Walker snorted this time, her eyes rolling so far back into her head she gave me a run for my money. “I think you mean checkin’ you out, girl. Along with every other damn guy in here.”
A bit of an exaggeration, but not completely a lie.
I’d felt the heat of a few stares since walking into the dimly lit honky tonk.
I turned, taking in the place. It had two bars on opposite sides of the massive dancefloor placed directly in the middle.
To one side were the billiards tables, and on the opposite, a mechanical bull was set up.
High-top tables dotted the room, as well as rimmed the perimeter of the dancefloor.
It smelled of booze and smoke and sweat.
“Oh, shut the hell up,” I huffed as we settled at one of the empty sections of the bar-top. “I didn’t come here for them.”