“They are the guys who keep the bull occupied so the rider, when he’s bucked off, he doesn’t get trampled.”
Ian heard the jolliness but couldn’t find anything jolly about his mate needing to be protected by what looked like clowns in cowboy gear.
Do something.
Ian shut his eyes when the announcer started an excited commentary about Rick just as the gate opened, and the bull took that as a sign and charged out, bucking and stomping the dirt.
Rick was thrown forward and back with such violence that Ian cringed at the impact on bits he didn’t want damaged, when he couldn’t keep his eyes shut. In fact, he was rather fond of all of Rick.
Ian slammed his eyes shut again, white knuckling the fence and prayed despite the adrenaline rush coming through his bond with his mate.
Make it stop,his honey badger howled deafeningly.
You want me to dive in front of the bull!he asked, his eyes firing open as the crowd went wild and he watched Rick dismount the bull. Hisbody jerked to the left just in time to avoid a horn ripping into his torso.
He didn’t breathe until Rick was behind the fence, and even then it was more of a passing wheeze as he realized it wasn’t over. They were going to have to do this twice more.
Oh, Lordy!
Ian wasn’t sure his heart would cope.
Rick came to him and grabbed him to kiss him passionately.
For a brief moment, everything faded away. Then Rick pulled back and said to Charlie, “Where did I rank?”
Chapter Nineteen
Rick
Rick learned quickly that bull riding, while true mated—complete with the associated mind link with said mate—was not the same as when he rode bulls as a single man. Bull riding was as much a mental game as it was physical, and having someone else lurking in that mental space was… distracting.
The first ride was easy enough. Rick got on, counted to ten, pushed off the back of the bull, and landed safely enough. The damn bull had swung around, and Rick had to add a skip to his step to avoid getting a sharp jab in his torso with the bull’s horn. But it was a good ride, and buoyed by how well it went, Rick was happy to see Ian waiting for him on the other side of the fence. Hopefully, his kiss showed how happy he’d been.
Rick couldn’t help focusing on those scores. That was the point of the rides. With the first bull, Rick scored ninety-six—a well-above-average score. George had been put on a stronger bull for his first ride, and although he hadn’t stayed on as long, the bull’s performance counted too. George scored ninety-four point five.
Pretty damn good for an old guy,which Rick realized was a bit of a joke, because compared to so many of the cowboys hanging around the gates, Rick was an old timer, too.
He drew badly for the second bull. Rick already knew that. The bull was younger—less experienced. It didn't have the sort of show-power that the judges were looking for. Rick stayed on slightly longer than the eight seconds, determined to make a point, but the bull wasn’t giving him a lot to work with, and as he refused on principle to hurt the animal, he pretty much just jumped off and made his way back to the fence. He could tell from Charlie's face that it was not his best ride.
“You're going to do all right with the last one,” Charlie said. “You’ve got the meanest, orneriest damn beast here for the third session. That has got to do your points some good. All you need to do is stay on.”
Rick—who was holding Ian close—nodded, his mind already on the next ride. George had just pipped him slightly with his ride—he had a better bull and knew how to work it. With two rides down, George was half a point ahead. And the man knew it—his smirk made Rick’s slapping hand itch.
Fuck, the number of times I've been in this position.What made it worse was that Rick knew George would be thinking the same damn thing. Giving Ian a hug, Rick dropped a kiss on his hair and went over to study his bull, mentally preparing himself for the last ride.
That bull was billed as a cowboy killer—not literally, of course, but he had a huge following in the rodeo circuit, and his stud fees were reported to be in the millions of dollars. Even though Rick had been out of the loop for years, he had heard of that particular bull. Simply named Devil, the animal was big, fully white, with long horns and a shit ton of attitude. The bull took out a vendetta on anyone who daredget on his back—so Rick had heard—and even getting a rope attached took far more hands than usual.
“You’re the last ride.” Charlie came up beside him. “You know that’s going to make a difference, and on this beast, all you have to do is get on, hit the eight-second bell, and get off. This bastard will do the rest.”
Rick grunted in acknowledgment.
The crowd roared, and Charlie glanced at the board. “George got ninety-five for his last one. Not bad, but definitely beatable. He doesn’t look happy. You need a ninety-six, and you’ve already done that once today. Just got to do it again, and you’ve got it.”
“Hmm.” Rick could run the numbers, that wasn’t the issue. “Is Ian doing okay?”
“You’re asking me?” Charlie laughed. “He’s your mate. He doesn’t say much, but he hasn’t fainted or asked to leave yet. Why don’t you just ask him?”
“I was just thinking about something Ernest said yesterday—you met him at our mating party, remember?”
