‘Graduatin’ this year?’ Noemi asks.
I nod. ‘Yep. Got some things to work through.’
‘I take it you’re not going the rodeo route, huh?’
With a glance from her sponsor-laden Western top to my plain blue plaid one, I raise an eyebrow. ‘That obvious?’
We share a mutual laugh at that. Barrel racing is basically going to be life and career for Noemi until she decides it’s time to step down, after which she’ll probably take over her parents’ ranch, not too different from what I could see myself doing. ‘So what will you do?’ says Noemi, spawning my worst fear.
‘I don’t know,’ I admit. It’s better I save the energy it takes to lie – especially one this big. And she knows how it is, leaving the ranch. ‘The weather’s been terrible here lately. I’m not sure if I’ll declare for the draft. Every women’s MLL team is on the East Coast. I’d have to leave, and who’ll look after the ranch after that?’ I shrug. ‘I wonder if it’s better I stay, you know? I can actually make a difference here. Doing research for the early detection programme.’
Noemi looks a little crestfallen at that. Disappointed? She doesn’t know me like that, does she? ‘Really? I mean, yourresearch is fantastic. Don’t get me wrong, it’s just … we’ve been at this for years.’ She shoots me a wry smile. ‘You certainly have competitive fire. You’re made for sport, May. The ranch, the research, it won’t go anywhere. Your career years will. Trust me.’
The announcer’s voice warbles incoherently over the speakers, and I mount Rocky, giving him a pat of encouragement. A sleek brown quarter horse, Rocky’s been mine since my first state youth lacrosse match – twelve years ago now. He’s sturdy, reliable, and best of all, loving and loved. Rocky only hits the barrels really hard once a year, for the Oklahoma County Rodeo, and he eats up every second of it.
As the crowd roars excitedly outside, I soak in the sound. To be surrounded by cheers, maybe on a lacrosse field, maybe at the very top of the professional league. The high is like nothing else. Isn’t it?
Well. Colt’s not the only one working onadulting.
Noemi gives me a parting wave as she and her horse are called, and they burst right out the gate, speeding around the barrels, making tight turns in the pattern like it’s light work, to ear-bursting applause from the crowds when she comes back into the alley – record time.
Rocky and I trot closer to the entrance, and I can hear the announcer’s next words. ‘And with a special guest in Oklahoma for the season, give a big Okie County welcome to hometown talent and national pro lacrosse player, CJ Bradley!’
Oh. Great.
‘Looks like your boy’s up front!’ Noemi teases as she catches her breath, bringing her horse, Bingo, down the aisle.
‘Of course he is,’ I hum under my breath. I remember his admitting – at dinner with his family – that he’d watched everyrodeo I’d raced in before he left, and how excited he was to be back. I thought it’d be as easy as the girls from the team showing up the way they did every year, my parents, and maybe he’d tag along. Casually. Quietly.
But, as I’d learned the second he stepped foot in Oklahoma, there is nothing casual or quiet about the presence of national pro lacrosse player CJ Bradley.
‘C’mon, buddy,’ I whisper to Rocky. ‘Let’s run real fast today.’
The kid helping out with the horses guides us through the alleyway before letting us go, and Rocky and I set off with a start. Dust flies as we hit the first barrel at high speed, a tight turn, and then the next, a beautiful cloverleaf. It’s not our fastest, but Rocky is a stunner, and when we head back down the aisle, he whinnies happily, satisfied with the cheering that follows him inside.
‘Sogood.’ I ruffle his mane, hopping down as the kid holds onto his reins, and taking them once I’m on solid ground. ‘You still got it, friend.’
‘Y’all were pretty phenomenal.’ An unfamiliar voice interrupts my moment with my horse. I look up, and this guy’s 100 per cent not someone I recognize. He has the showy yet protective padded vest of one of the bull riders, windswept blond hair, fringed chaps over well-worn jeans, spurred boots. Lots of sponsors on every leather article. Definitely a bull rider. He throws a pearly-white, blue-eyed smile my way. ‘Impressive seeing a lacrosse player on a barrel horse.’
I turn back to Rocky, smoothing his coat distractedly. ‘I like a little of everything in my life. Do I know you?’
‘Not yet.’ He sticks out a hand, and I take it. We share a firm shake. ‘Jackson O’Hara. I’m just in town for the rodeo. You local?’
I nod. ‘Yep. May Velasco. Nice to meet ya. How’d you know I play lax?’
‘I’m a friend of Noemi’s. She mentioned you were on OKC?’
‘Sure.’ I eye a patch on his vest. ‘And you? National circuit?’
‘You got me.’ Jackson grins. ‘It’s how I know her. We run in similar circles.’
‘I’d imagine.’ I walk Rocky towards his stable, and Jackson falls into step with us.
‘So, May. Meant to ask, if you had the chance.’ He leans against the stable doors across from Rocky’s as I lead my horse inside. ‘Would you be down to grab a drink this weekend? Before I head out?’
Great heavens.I freeze in my spot. Rocky nuzzles my cheek, like,Girl?What is this goon doing?
There was certainly a time where getting asked out by an admittedly fantastic-looking bull rider – at the very pinnacle of rodeo – would have been in my top five. I mean, come on. WhenThe Longest Ridecame out, I literally prayed for a Scott Eastwood of my own. My twelve-year-old ass had posters all over my walls.
