Chapter Five
The crowd was…quiet. Raul was not used to that at all. These Americanos, they did not know him at all, and how could he blame them? This was his first event in the US, and Raul didn’t even have a back number yet.
He was there because he had won the Brazilian national title. Again. Twice he had to win it to earn enough points to come to the States and ride.
“Hey!Apa—Aara. Damn it. Raul!”
Raul glanced over where a stocky man with a clipboard waved at him. “Sim?”
“Shit.” The man stared at him, then turned and bellowed at someone else, the word moving too fast for him to follow.
Another man popped up by the railing, smiling and nodding. Oh. God in heaven, what a beautiful man. He had a face like an angel, all big brown eyes and curly hair, his tanned skin stretched over high cheekbones and a sharp chin.
“Troy asked me to translate,” the man said in oddly accented Portuguese. “I am Joaquim. Joa. Pleasure to meet you, Raul. Congratulations on your win in Brazil.”
“Thank you.” Raul shook hands when Joa offered. “I have never seen you in Sao Paulo.”
“Nao. I was born and raised in Texas.” Joa flashed him a white smile, and Raul was captured instantly. He stared, unable to help himself.
“Uh. It is good to meet you, too.” Raul smiled back, feeling like a fool.
“Troy wants to show you the bull you will ride. He’s about to put the flank strap on.”
Oh. Well, that was very decent. More than Raul had expected. He nodded, following the big man and Joa to the area behind the chutes. The bull he’d drawn had a name he could not pronounce, but it had something to do with bombs.Bombas. He grinned, feeling like dancing.
Joa grinned, too. “You were doing a samba.”
“Was I?” His cheeks heated.
“It’s okay. This is Troy, the chute boss.” Joa switched to English. “Troy, Raul. His English is small.”
“Yep.” Troy nodded at him, seeming friendly enough. “There.” Troy pointed out his bull, a heavy in the chest Brahman mixture. “Have at.”
“Obrigado, senhor,” Raul murmured, anticipation rising in his belly. This was a big, strong bull. An athlete. This was why he had come here; this was where he would make his fortune. Raul knew it.
“Have a good ride,” Joa murmured before moving on, and Raul had to admit, he paused to watch that tight, hard male ass swing when Joa walked away.
Oh, yes, he missed Brazil, but the US was turning out to be a much better place than he’d worried about.
