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I patted my back pocket for the hundredth time. It was still there. I didn’t know where I’d thought it would go—it wasn’t like an inanimate object could just hop out of my pocket and bounce out of the arena. “Joze, when I said there was no comparison, I meant that in both the literal and figurative way.”
She lifted an impressed brow. She liked it when I talked as though I used my brain for more than just a cushion when I landed headfirst after being thrown from the back of a two-thousand-pound animal.
“Your bra-slash-chest”—my eyes lowered to my name and everything around it—“correction, your perfect chest, is the first one I’ve ever autographed, so there is, literally, no comparison.” When her forehead started to crease, I continued. “But even if I had signed all of those bras you’ve heard from the rumors I have—even if I’d signed millions—there would be, figuratively, no comparison whatsoever. None.”
She was fighting to keep that stern expression, but it was close to slipping. Joze was a champ at giving me a hard time and making me walk a fine line, but she could never stay upset at me, for real or pretend, when I was layering on the good lines.
“Let’s get a bit more figurative with this whole thing then.” Her gaze dropped to her chest, her finger hooking under the clasp at the center of her bra.
My gaze followed hers.
“Let’s fast forward thirty years or copious amounts of tanning without sunscreen and bouncing up and down stairs without a bra . . . can you still say there’d be no comparison?” I was opening my mouth to reply when she added, “And look me in the eye while you answer?”
I tipped my hat back just enough so she could get a good look at my eyes. Since we were kids, Josie had been able to call out my lies just by taking one good look into my eyes—that was why I’d avoided letting them drift her way for a good portion of our lives—but I didn’t divert them anymore. Not even when she was asking a hard question, and with a history like mine, there was no shortage of difficult questions to ask and answer.
I had to work to keep my face straight before I let myself say one word. “That’s what lots of money and a skilled surgeon are for, so yeah, I can answer that even thirty years from now, with all of that sun . . . bouncing . . . stuff, there will still be no comparison.” I worked my tongue into my cheek when she crossed her arms. “Post operative, of course.”
Her arms crossed tighter. “You drew VooDoo, right? I’m going to go have a little chat with him and request that he drive one or both of his horns into your ass after you give the eight-second ride of your life.”
Josie started toward where the bulls were being sorted into the chutes before I grabbed her hand. I couldn’t let her go one more step without asking my question. I couldn’t let myself go one more step without knowing her answer.
Sure, we’d purchased the old farmhouse together and talked as though we would live and die together, but the actual topic of marriage hadn’t been discussed. I guessed she wasn’t against the concept, but my palms were still breaking out in a sweat, and my heart was thudding so powerfully I could practically feel it vibrating against my chest armor.
“Joze, wait.” I tugged on her hand to bring her back. “I’ve got to ask you something before you go ask VooDoo to pierce my backside.” I peaked a brow at her as I slipped my hand into my back pocket.
The ring was curled around my pinkie finger and my right knee just starting to bend when I heard my name boom through the loudspeaker. It took me a moment to process why my name was being announced because somewhere in the midst of signing Joze’s bra and preparing to ask her to spend the rest of her life with me, I’d forgotten all about the reason I was there.
To ride. To ride well. The ride that would qualify me for nationals if I stayed on long enough and scored high enough.
“Garth.” Josie’s hand wrapped around my arm and gave it a little shake. “Garth,” she said a bit more firmly as everything finished registering.
I muttered a curse before my gaze flickered to the chute I was supposed to be climbing into right that very moment. VooDoo was there and ready. I had maybe thirty seconds before I got myself DQ’ed.
“Whatever it is you need to ask me, it can wait until after.” She spun behind me and pushed my back in the right direction. “I’ll be right here waiting when you’re done. You can ask me then.”
I didn’t need much of a push before I started sprinting. Glancing back, I winked at her.
“Hey, Black?” she called. She waited for me to look back again. “See you in eight seconds.”
I grinned at her. “See you in eight seconds, Joze.” I watched her for another moment. Then I hauled ass to where I should have been two minutes ago—if I hadn’t gotten all distracted by my girlfriend’s bra and the ring that would hopefully upgrade her girlfriend status to fiancée.
“Nice of you to show up, Black!” one of the support guys hollered as I flew up to my chute. “Looks like someone’s getting a little too big for his paycheck if he thinks he doesn’t have to show up until after his name has been blared around the arena.”
I wiped my hands off on my jeans and smirked at him as I crawled up the rail to get into position. VooDoo’s nostrils were flaring, and he was already stomping his giant hooves. “Sorry I’m late. I was trying to propose to my girl.”
“Did she say yes?” he asked as I straddled the chute, preparing to lower down onto VooDoo.
“I was about five seconds too late to ask.” Slowly, I lowered myself onto the giant bull’s back.
When my weight settled over him, I felt him tremble. We both had our fair share of adrenaline firing into our systems. This would be one hell of a ride. From the bull’s energy alone, I knew earning the points wouldn’t be a problem—VooDoo was going to try to snap my back in every place it could crack out there—so the ride just depended on me being able to hang on for eight seconds.
I was going to nationals, the big show, if I could keep my ass on that bull’s back for eight tiny seconds. So much rode on those seconds that I’d have been lying if I’d said the pressure wasn’t getting to me.
“Do you think she’ll say yes when you have a few seconds after your ride to ask her?” Thomas inspected my grip on the leather strap, making sure it wasn’t too tight or too loose, just like I was double-checking.
“Pretty sure, but I’ll feel a hell of a lot better when I know for sure.” I adjusted one thing on my grip, rolled my fingers a few times over the braid, and then shifted my position on the bull in anticipation of VooDoo spinning to the left out of the gate.
“Why don’t you get out there, give the ride of your life, and qualify for nationals? I can guarantee you your confidence of being pretty sure she’ll say yes will increase to positively certain.” Thomas’s investigation ended with a nod before he crawled down the side of the chute. “Go raise hell, Black.”
