dean
“Dean?”I pocket my phone and glance up at the woman sitting in front of me.
“I’m sorry, do you mind repeating the question?” I’ve only been in this interview for about ten minutes, but it’s already ten minutes too long. Her long, red nails tap her notepad a few times before she flips her hair over her shoulder and gives me a heated look.Here we go.Seb’s phone call woke me from a rather sexual dream about Hannah this morning, reminding me I needed to be three hours north for this interview. I’ve been checking my phone relentlessly since I pulled out of the parking lot, seeing that her truck and trailer are still parked in the same spot. I watched her travel in the opposite direction from me for a couple hours before stopping at some gas station on the side of the road for a while before continuing on down the highway. She didn’t stop again until about ten minutes ago. Since then, her phone has been bouncing around the blue box on the map. When I zoomed in and read where she was, I saw that she’d actually booked herself a hotel for the night. Despite my protests, I wasn’t able to get out of my ride tonight, but I plan to meet upwith her at the next stop in Arizona tomorrow. But she doesn’t know that yet.
“How has this season been different from your others?” The woman looks at me with bright eyes, and I already know what is running through her mind. We’ll wrap up this interview, she’ll make small talk while insisting on walking me out, her fingers will trail down my arm, and she’ll lean her chest against mine in the elevator, hoping that I’ll let her know where I’m staying tonight. Guess word gets around about how I tend to behave. But not anymore.
I clear my throat and settle back in the chair. “I’ve been able to focus more on my technique this year. Finding a rhythm and keeping my head down the best I can.” Her eyes bounce around my face before landing on my mouth. Her tongue wets her lips and I tilt my head at her in aseriouslykind of way. She pulls her lip between her teeth, and that trick alone would have had me tossing the chair behind me, pulling that lip out, and sliding my cock into her mouth. Wouldn’t matter who was in the room. But today, it just grates on my nerves. “Any other questions?” I ask dryly, rubbing my palms over my thighs roughly in an attempt to keep my hands from slapping her across her face.
“Dean, we’ve only been here for ten minutes. Your agent said you’d give us an hour,” a man off to the side chimes in.
“Then get your interviewer here on a fucking leash. If she looks at me one more time like that, I’m walking.” The room goes silent. Minutes stretch by, everyone unsure how to respond. Her eyes widen in shock, looking between her boss and myself.
“Mr. Wilder, I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intention.” She has the audacity to look insulted.
“Whatever you say, lady. Next question.” Spinning my wrist, I motion for her to continue.
Thirty minutes later, I’m finally in the parking garage, walking towards my truck and trailer that takes up aboutseven spaces. After my little outburst, the interview went rather quickly. It seems that when you keep your eyes to yourself and ask the fucking questions on the paper, things don’t take quite as long. When I slide into the driver's seat, I sync up my phone, pulling up Hannah’s contact and clicking on her map. Her little dot hasn’t moved from the hotel.Good girl.I’d drive all night if I found out she was spending time anywhere other than in her room.
I managed to drive to the arena while keeping a close eye on her location. Pulling into the lot, I groan when the only spot available is next to an all too familiar red truck. When I don’t return his very over the top wave, Kasey turns around, laughing to himself as he pulls his protective vest over his shoulders. Checking the clock, I only have ten minutes to check in, which means I can’t hide out in here and wait for him to leave.
“Well, would you look at that.” The moment my feet hit the ground, Kasey is by my side. “Fancy seeing you here, Wilder.” I roll my eyes, his obnoxiously happy face beaming back at me.
“You’re starting to creep me out, man.” Opening the back door of my truck, I reach inside and pull my bag, out only to jump a bit when Kasey’s big face is right there.
“That’s the first step to being best friends,” he says as he slaps my shoulder and rounds the hood of my truck, headed back towards his own.
“Lord give me strength,” I mutter as I pull off my hat, strip out of the long sleeve shirt I’m wearing, and slide a black pearl snap over my arms.
My skin tingles at the memory of feeling of Hannah’s fingers stroke against my skin, memorizing the tattoos that cover my chest and arms. Just the thought of her has me growing hard, my black jeans suddenly a size too small. Like a goddamn flood, she washes over every part of me, my mind swirling with images of her bent backwards over that saddle rack, head tilted back andmoaning my name inside my hat. Looking around me, I notice that I’m alone, five minutes left to check in. Reaching inside the cabin of my truck I flip off the interior lights. Then reaching down, I unfasten my belt and pull my dick out. Already dripping in pre-cum, I rub the beads down my shaft, imagining those delicate hands wrapped around me. The smell of her lingers on my hat, and if I inhale deep enough, I can imagine her in front of me, knees in the dirt, hands tied behind her back, tears streaking her beautiful face as I fuck her mouth. Slapping a hand against the door frame, I let out a string of curses. My vision goes blurry and I come harder and faster than I can remember. My chest heaves in time with my rapid heart, sweat gathering at the base of my neck, drying in the hot summer breeze. After I clean up and put myself back together, I finish getting dressed in record time, slipping my vest over my black button up as I walk into the arena.
I take my place next to my chute and watch as rider after rider gets thrown into the dirt. Most of them hop right back up and limp their way back to the gate before disappearing down the walkway and driving off, praying they last a little longer at the next stop. When Kasey slips into position in the next pen over, I watch as he adjusts himself, rubbing the rope down to get a better grip. When the gate flies open, I can’t help but stand up straight, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to control the anxiety rippling through me as my eyes bounce between him and the clock on the big screen. As the seconds climb, so does the energy of the crowd…six seconds…seven seconds.
“Come on, Kasey,” I mutter under my breath, my fingers digging into my biceps. The buzzer goes off and the crowd goes wild. For a split second, I pump a fist in the air before tucking my arms back around me.What the fuck is wrong with me?I never cheer, never watch anyone else, never care about anyone’s ride other than my own.
“Oh my God!” a woman shrieks from above me. My head snaps in Kasey’s direction.He’s still on the horse.The pick-up men get right next to him before the horse Kasey is stuck on spins on a dime, bucking in their direction, causing them to pull back.
“He’s hung up!” one of the rodeo hands calls out next to me. I watch, unable to do anything, as Kasey is flung from side to side. I can see his legs shake from exhaustion as he clings to the sides of the horse. It feels like an eternity before one of the pick-up men gets close enough to release the flank strap. Once it hits the ground, the horse calms, slowing down just enough for the other riders to corner him. A few more seconds tick by before Kasey wriggles his hand loose and falls into the side of one of the men next to him. When his feet hit the dirt, he sways before falling to his knees, head tipped down, cradling his injured wrist with his good hand. It takes him a minute before he gets up, being met with a wild cheer from the audience. He tips his head in appreciation before someone escorts him out a gate towards an awaiting ambulance. I watch him climb into the back, paramedics circling him, prodding at his wrist and taking notes. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until someone approaches behind me.
“Dean Wilder?” Pulling my gaze from Kasey, I look at the boy in front of me.
“Who’s asking’?” I look around, waiting for some dad to yell for his son to stop fucking around.
“Mason.” The boy sticks his hand out eagerly. “Mason Taylor.” I consider it for a moment before reaching mine out and gripping his, tighter than I probably should, and giving it one hard shake.
“How old are you, kid?” I ask, tipping my head to the side, watching him closely.
Rubbing his hand that is red from my hold, he tries to stand up a bit taller, rolling his shoulders back. “Seventeen, sir. My dad works the rodeo every year. This is the first summer he’s letting me help out back here.” He nods to the chutes in front of us. He reminds me so much of Owen, my heart aches just looking at him. So I look away.
“You want to be a pick-up man like your old man?” I ask, watching the older guys taking their positions around the stadium.
He gives a light laugh. “No, sir.” When I don’t answer, he looks at me with bright eyes and a big smile. “I want to ride.”Fuck.This is exactly what I don’t need before a ride. After what we all just saw happen to Kasey, it should be clear why I was so hell bent on turning Owen away from this life.
I give him a rough shake of my head before turning away from him. “Better watch and learn then, Mason.”
He watches in fascination as I shimmy my legs around the jet black sides ofTitan. He’s a wide motherfucker, and I can already feel my hips cry out in pain at the angle I have to sit to get a good hold with my thighs. When I slip my hand in the rigging, I look up at Mason, his eyes focused on my every move, memorizing every detail.
“Mason.” His eyes shoot to mine. “Three things.” I hold up three fingers, and he nods.
