Chapter Fourteen
Raul waited behind the gate for them to call his name. The show was over, and Beau Lafitte had won the title. Now all that was left was awards, and Eduardo had told him he’d won rookie of the year. Rookie…
As if he hadn’t been riding since he was five.
Joa stood there with Eduardo, hooting and catcalling when his name was called, and that didn’t make it any easier for his nerves.
He walked past Joa, giving his friend, because he thought they were friends now, a panicked glance. Balta was not there. Who would translate for him?
Joa nodded once and stepped right up, a warm smile on his face. Oh, blessedCristo.
“Obrigado,Joa,” Raul murmured, then grinned for the camera.
Donald Donaldson spoke so quickly that it sounded like a blur, but Joa was right there, helping him follow along. That way he knew when to step up and take the trophy they offered him, when to show off the belt buckle. Best man for his first year on tour. That was all they meant by Rookie.
That, then, wasn’t a slam. This was an honor that he could wear easily.
Raul waved to the crowd, then walked away when Joa touched his arm and indicated he was done. His skin tingled from the touch, which he told himself was stupid.
Eduardo lifted him up and a chorus of Brazilian voices congratulated him and for a moment, he felt at home. Raul laughed, letting go of everything for a moment and pumping his arms up over his head.
He was doing it. He had come to America to make money, have a place, a ranch, maybe. He was doing it. His earnings this year had mostly gone home to his family, his mother and father, but the bonus today he could use to put a down payment on something. Maybe a truck that was new.
Joa clapped him on the back, offered him a warm smile. “I have to get back to Balta, but I’ll miss celebrating. If I get a chance, I’ll come back to the hotel.”
“Thank you for your help.” He felt a bit dizzy for a moment because his feet had been off the ground for a few minutes, but the world righted itself quickly. “Do you need me to come sit for a while? Let Balta sleep?”
“The others want to feed you, drink. It is important that you won this—for all of us.”
“Sim.” Joa was right, of course. All the Brazilian riders had a right to celebrate this win. Raul would rather share it with Joa, but that was his problem.
Joa was…at best, Balta Silva’s right hand man. At worst, he was even more. At worst, he was someone Raul had no right to covet.
Eduardo slapped his back. “Come, Raul. We’ll have a drink. Maybe a burger, huh?”
“Buy the man a steak, eh?” Joa grinned, hushing him when he would protest.
“Oh, Joa, you are used to Balta’s money.” Leandro slapped Joa’s shoulder. “We’re poor.”
“Then I will buy myself a steak!” Raul’s cheeks heated at the thought of what Balta needed Joa for and how he doubted Joa was in it for Balta’s money.
“As well as you rode, you can.” Joa rolled his eyes and blushed, but there wasn’t any meanness in his tone.
“I will buy you and Balta one when days are better,sim?” He wanted to celebrate with them. Somehow that seemed important.
“I would like that very much, amigo. Very much.”
He would, too. Raul gave Joa a hug, surprising himself, then watched Joa walk away. Time to call his mother and father.
They would both be proud, pleased.
Honored that their youngest son had made something of himself in America.
Joa broughtfood and washed clothes, brought magazines and pillows and drove Balta back and forth from the hospital to the hotel until he could do the drive in his sleep. Now he was at the Walmart buying snacks and another phone cord because Balta lost one a day.
Balta was tired. He could see it more every day. The season was over, so they didn’t need to travel yet, but Sam was not any better. No worse, but?—
He crossed himself, not wanting to think about things too hard.
