My gut flips.
Angry bulls are not ideal.
Great for a high technical ride, all that frustration converting to powerful moves, but after the dismount... That’s the most dangerous few minutes, and you want to get clear as fast as you damn well can.
It’s the risk bull riding carries. The toughest sport on dirt.
The world’s riskiest form of entertainment. For the cowboys, at any rate.
Kadence half settles long enough for Knox to strap down.
Knox may be arrogant, but he is a damn skilled bull rider. Still, something doesn’t sit right this time. A preemptive feeling of worry gnaws on my insides. As Maggie walks right past me and into the arena, camera in hand, that worry flares to outright panic.
Fuck,no.
“Maggie!”
She turns back, not stopping, walking across the arena. With her bright smile as she waves at me, my last breath lodges in my throat.
She squats right in front of the chute as Knox pummels his rope hand into a fist around the stiff rope.
No, no, no.
She rises and moves to the far side of the arena and leans on the rails, and I suck in a burning breath.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I stare as the chute gate swings open. And as if time slows right down, Kadence explodes in a tangle of legs and snot, tossing Knox from his center instantly.
“Come on, asshole, stay the hell on,” I growl out.
“Remind me never to ask you to cheer for me,” Spencer says with a chuckle.
Where the fuck did he come from?
I can’t take my gaze from the spinning, raging two-ton animal inching its way closer to Maggie. The only thing between her and it is Logan and his face-painted crew.
Christ.
I shift on my feet as the bull jerks, changing course, and Knox flies from his back into a crumpled heap in the dirt.
Maggie’s eyes widen, her hand slapping to her mouth.
The crowd gasps as Kadence makes a beeline for the unconscious cowboy. And the pretty little photographer who is mere feet from where he fell.
Hell.
“Oh fuck.” Spencer’s hand runs through his hair as Logan desperately tries to steal the bull’s attention.
Each moment slides by like molasses in winter. Knox stirs but doesn’t get up.
The bull is closing in.
Maggie’s hand slips from the rail where she was ready to jump up and out. The camera swings at her side as she takes a tentative step forward to the man on the ground.
I shift on my feet. “Logan, get in there!”
His men surround the bull, but it’s hell-bent on Knox.
“Goddamn it!” I fly across the arena, coming up behind the crazed animal, I slap its hind, hoping it will spin back.
