Chapter Twenty
Balta watched Raul Araripe dance after he made his ride. The man had some hip action that Balta just couldn’t match anymore, not with his sore back and stiff lower body. Not that he couldn’t hold his own, but Raul was sexy as hell. Nice, too. And Joaquim liked Raul a lot. Balta could tell.
Sometimes a man needed some nice. Heaven knew, he was not a nice man. Joaquim was, and sometimes, Balta knew, Joaquim needed someone less like Balta and more like him. Maybe he’d have to cultivate Raul and Joaquim’s friendship a bit. Maybe he’d push. Just a little. He liked the look of them together, anyway.
Balta met Joa’s eyes, smiling as he made his way up through the throng of hats that lined the back of the chutes. It was almost Joa’s turn to ride. “Hey, there. You almost ready, huh?”
“Sim.” Joa bent and stretched, bouncing at the waist. “You pulling my rope?”
Nodding, he moved closer, slapping his hand against Joa’s vest. “You all put together right? Don’t want you stripping down like last week.” The week before, in Cincinnati, Joa had lost his vest, his belt buckle, and half his shirt.
“At least I didn’t make a tent, eh? Like some of them?”
He knew just who Joa meant and his eyes slid to Raul. Raul made a well-pitched tent. “I thought you said you weren’t looking, Joa?” Balta grinned, letting his approval show.
“I wasn’t. It was on the TV.” Joaquim’s cheeks went red hot.
“Ah. Uh-huh. Sure.”
Hal Galland nodded, the chute opening, the crowd going crazy. One more rider to go, so it was time to get Joaquim in the chute. A blue shirt caught his eye, and Balta jerked his head at Raul, who was back behind the chutes.
“Hey, Raul! Come help me, huh?”
“Balta!” Joaquim’s blush got deeper, but his lover found a smile for Raul, a nod. “Thank you, huh?”
“Hey!” Raul’s sudden smile would light up the entire arena. Balta approved. He stepped over the rails to pull rope and let Raul hold Joaquim in place when he slid down to cover the bull. In the chute, Joa was all business. The smile was gone, focus on the bull, the rope. The bull was wild, throwing Joaquim into Raul’s arms over and over. Balta didn’t let his mind stray from business to contemplate the pretty of that until Joa was out, counting down the seconds as the bull bucked like crazy.
Joaquim started sliding, but corrected, settling in and even spurring the last two seconds.
Balta shouted, pounding Raul on the shoulder. “Sim, Joa!Sim!”
It was gratifying that Raul bounced and shouted, too.
Joaquim yanked his rope, tumbling to the arena floor and coming up all smiles. Dillon ran up and they started dancing, the crowd going wild.
That was the last rope he’d pull tonight. Balta smiled at Raul, pounding his shoulder again. “You done for the night?”
Raul nodded, that smile lighting up again. “Sim, sim.”
“Then come on. We’ll go meet Joa in the back, huh? Congratulate him.”
He got an odd glance, but Raul only nodded, following along behind him, wading through the rest of the bull riders.
Joaquim took some time, but ended up in the dressing room, beaming and bouncing, shirt half undone.
Grabbing him in a half-hug, Balta laughed out loud, Joa’s smile infectious. “You’re losing your shirt, Joaquim! I told you to make sure you were all buttoned up.”
“Sim. Sim. That old bastard bucked hard enough to tear them all off.”
“Good ride,” Raul said, walking over to clap Joa on the back. “Thought he had you, but you did right.”
Joaquim grinned. “He was rolling, and I could feel the rope slipping.”
The conversation slipped into Portuguese, Joa doing a good job keeping up with them. They traded stories, all of them going through the motions of their ride, waiting for the event to wrap up so they could head out. No autograph signings tonight, which suited Balta fine.
“You need a ride, Raul?” Joaquim grabbed his gear, tight body tensing as he did.
Balta almost missed the question, staring like he was. When he caught it, he nodded over at Raul. “Save you a cab, huh?”
