Chapter 5
Maggie
Mad Max the Third spins violently in the arena below me. A rough hand grabs my arm, hauling me off the rails and down to the dirt.
“Shit! The hell was that?” An older guy in a black hat has me in his grip.
I try to shake him off. He snatches my camera from my hand.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“Flash? Really, been doin’ this long?”
Oh no.
“I—” Oh fuck.
“No flash. Basic fucking rule.” He snaps his gaze at the raging bull tossing the poor cowboy around like a rag doll. “Fuck, Jones.”
He releases me, climbing the rail as the clipboard hits the dirt.
I hug the railing peering through as Jones, or whoever, gets hung up. My heart is in my throat, and I don’t even know the guy. A bullfighter closes in, holding him close to the bull as they try desperately to release his hand from the rope.
“Oh god.”
Dammit, is this my fault? My gut flips, bile crashing up my throat. All I want to do is bolt at seeing another human in trouble because of another of my bad choices. Well, forgetfulness this time, but still. I want out of Dodge, now. Or the ground could swallow me whole, I’m not picky.
A chuckle hits my cheek. I turn to find a cowboy in silver chaps and a black hat. Unlike everybody else, he’s smiling. Everybody else hangs on tenterhooks for the guy still strapped to the manic bull.
This guy is . . . laughing. “First time, hey?”
The vibes from this guy are all wrong. I ignore him, hoping he’ll leave. He props his forearms on the rail and watches as Jones is extracted, finally, from the bull.
“Nice work. Least Jones is off the board for tonight. Not that I needed the help, but thanks.” He winks at me, pushing off the rail and sauntering three chutes down.
Levi finds me, pulling me away from the chute. “Look, I know you’re new, but no flash. Don’t get in the way. Always ask every single cowboy if taking their picture is okay. Got it?” He glares at me.
I guess I deserved that.
“Yes, sir.”
“Sweet Jesus,” he mutters as he walks away.
Um, okay.
Turning back, he calls out, “Welcome to the circuit, Maggie.”
Hats turn, and every cowboy not busy strapping down stares at me.
Guess I deserved that, too.
Heat floods my face.
Straightening my shirt and checking over my camera, I walk to the next chute where a bull rider is getting ready to buck out.
Three Wrangler-clad asses stick out from the guys helping the bull rider onto the animal. How do I... I tap the closestcowboy’s boot. When he looks down, I offer a small smile before lifting the camera in lieu of asking the question. He nods and moves over a little.
With shaky hands, I climb the rails again and face the bull rider. “Are you okay with having your picture taken?”
