Page 25 of Tame Our Wild

I darkly chuckle. “I’d much rather see you on yours so I can see what other things that smart mouth is capable of.”

The heat between us is vibrating uncontrollably as neither one of us backs down. I half expect her to look at me with disgust, but as her mouth curves at one corner, I can’t help but swallow.

Lifting her arm, she plops my cowboy hat back onto my head. “It’s capable of a lot of things, cowboy. Too bad you’ll never find out.”

Fuuuck.

Surprisingly, she takes time to adjust my hat, the moment giving me the opportunity to let my eyes roam over her soft features that have yet to be tainted by sweat and the aftershocks of adrenaline. Her second-round ride of the weekend is coming up soon, and I should feel guilty for distracting her, but there’s something about this girl that makes it hard for me to walk away.

Her smirk increases the pounding in my sternum. I nearly raise a hand to grip at my chest because the ache there is foreign. Different than the one I’ve grown accustomed to. “You couldn’t handle me.”

Goddamn. Why is that confidence sexy as fuck?

My curiosity gets the best of me. “Is that a challenge?”

Harlow shakes her head. “You’re an insufferable dick. Did you know that?”

“And you’re a pain in my ass, Hartt.”

Those lips that shouldn’t be tempting part, but it’s not her voice that fills the space between us when a deep tone shouts, “Payne.”

My head turns to see our PBR commissioner and CEO, John Barrett, glaring at me with interest etched in his features.

Harlow pats my pec over my riding vest, lowering her voice. “Don’t want to keep the boss waiting.”

When I turn to face her again, she’s already walking away with her bull rope slung over her shoulder, my attention locked on the way those hips sway in the black chaps and jeans she chose for tonight. I’m trying to ignore the way that entire interaction had blood flooding to my cock with every jab. Every heated word.

Blowing out a breath, I pace toward John, failing to hide my limp. The pain has dulled slightly, but it’s still a bitch as I walk to stand before him.

“John,” I greet. I’ve known this man since I started when I was eighteen. We are past formalities now.

He extends a hand, and I shake it like I always do. I respect the hell out of this man. We all do.

John drops my hand, lowering his back to his lap. “That was one hell of a ride, but Marshmallow Bunny tossed ya good.”

My response is clipped as I straighten my posture. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He drags a hand over his salt-and-pepper beard. “I think you should head over to the medical area to get that checked out before the championship round. You’ve got everyone on edge.”

I arch a brow. “When do I not have them on edge?” His mouth flattens into a line as if he’s not impressed. “And I’m fine, it’s no big deal,” I add. I’d say I’d walk it off, but I made that mistake once, and I’ve never felt more like bullshit. I assume he feels the same way about those comments as I do about someone getting trampled or suffering from a head injury.

It doesn’t matter, because John says it for me anyway. “You’ve been walking off injuries since you started this sport. Someday, one of them is going to take you out for good if you don’t take care of yourself. There’s more to life than the ride, don’t forget that. Take it from me, this sport can humble you quick if you’re not careful.”

My chest tightens at the reminder.

My eyes scan his wheelchair, and I give him a firm nod. John had competed for fifteen years, back in the day. Then there was one ride, one wrong landing, and it changed his entire life. When Paisley and I begged our parents to let us start competing and join the junior bull riding league when we were fourteen, they sat us down and made us watch John’s career-ending ride several times.

Still, we accepted the risks and never once let it deter us. There’s a gamble with everything.

Every rider looks up to John with all the respect in the world. He was a three-time world champion back in his prime. He is a reminder that this sport can take more than it gives, but I already know that. It’s why I keep riding. Why I push through the agony and welcome it like I enjoy every ache and stabbing pain in my body because it’s what I need to do to push on. I have no choice but to power through it.

Despite how many times his wife has tried to get him to officially retire, John still loves this sport too much to let it go.

I may ride for myself and Paisley, but it also helps silence my demons in a way nothing else can.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice you and Miss Harlow Hartt bickering over there, son.”

I clear my throat. “It was nothing. I was just wishing her good luck.”