He opens his mouth like he’s going to argue, but nothing comes out. Harrison at a loss for words? That’s new.
My hands snap my laptop shut before I shove it into my bag, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I don’t have time for second thoughts.
As I reach the door, I toss over my shoulder, “You’ll be fine without me for a while.”
And this time, I don’t look back.
three
Trouble
"Trouble," Charming nudges me, grinnin’. "You see that?"
I follow his gaze, squintin’ toward the stage where some pageant is going on. Women are all dressed up, competing for some shiny piece of plastic. The complete opposite of us cowboys, with our rough hands and scuffed boots, waiting with the beasts that'll try to toss us to the dirt.
"Sure do."
"Bet you ten bucks the lady in red takes it home," Charming says, leanin’ back like it’s a sure thing. Charming always has a wager on his mind and a grin on his face—even when he's about to get his ass handed to him in the ring.
Rogue pulls off his hat, running a hand through his hair before he settles it back on his head. “Nah, yellow’s got it in the bag.”
“The hell she does,” Charming snaps. “She butchered that Grease song. Who messes up‘Summer Nights?Even I know the words.”
"Exactly,” Rogue says, tipping his hat. “Judges eat that pity pie shit right on up. Makes her relatable.”
The announcer crackles through the mic, and the crowd roars as the woman in yellow is crowned.
Rogue crosses his arms, grinning like the smug bastard he is. “Told ya’ll.”
I glance at him. “How the hell’d you call that?”
“Audience felt sorry for her, judges love a redemption story. Plus… It’s always the one with the biggest hair. Closer to God, and all that.”
“Jesus,” I laugh. “You insightful little shit.”
Charming groans, pulling out his wallet like it might kill him. “Hair wasn’t what I had my eyes on.”
“Yeah, we noticed,” I say. “Always as subtle as a stampede.”
Charming grumbles as he slides the ten over to Rogue like it’s his life savings.
“Keep it,” Rogue says, waving him off. “We’ll need it later.”
Charming tucks it back into his wallet, and puts it away with a smirk. “What for—drinks or bail?”
I grin. “Both.”
And we continue to wait, covered in the scent of leather and sawdust, the knowledge that our time is coming. The risk, the adrenaline—it's what we live for. There's something about these moments before the ride—the nerves and anticipation—that makes me feel more alive than any whiskey-filled boot ever could.
"Think you're making it past four seconds tonight?" Knox jokes beside me.
Knox has been part of our squad the past few years. He lives with his dad on a smaller ranch just beyond ours. Hefound us when we were scoutin’ for fresh talent a few years back. He’s fearless. Now he’s part of the family, and one of the best friends I got.
"Four seconds? Are you fuckin’ with me?," I shoot back. “Last time you rode, you were bucked off so fast it took your dignity along with it.”
"Guess we'll see who's got any dignity left after tonight, huh?" Knox fires back.
We separate to get prepared, and one of the handlers stops me to check my gear. Once he nods and lets me go there’s a tap from someone else on my shoulder.
