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He’d heard of Buck; he was known as one of the best bull riders and trainers in the world. But Bullet had heard he’d retired.
He’d taken Tristan’s bag to her cabin, but his was still in the truck. “I’ll stow my bag and grab my gear.”
“I’ll be waitin’. Don’t dally.”
Dallying would be the last thing he’d do. Having an opportunity like this happened once in a lifetime.
As he walked back to his truck, he could hear music coming from Tristan’s cabin. Talk about the opportunity of a lifetime. He’d have two this week. And he intended to take full advantage of both.
Tristan unpacked her clothes and put them in the rustic-looking wardrobe. Everything in the room was designed to look old-time western, but upon closer inspection, the fabrics used, the construction of the furniture, even the fixtures, were the best of the best. She was beginning to understand that while those vacationing at the ranch wanted an authentic experience, they also wanted high-end comfort.
She ran her hand over the granite counters in the over-sized bathroom and was pleased to see a jetted soaking tub big enough for two.
Back in the main room of the cabin, she found a docking station for her smartphone, and chose the playlist she listened to most often when she was designing.
She heard the door of the cabin next door close, and peeked out the window. Bullet was on his way to the corral, carrying most of his gear. He’d already put on his chaps and vest, and in his hand, he carried his bull rope, leather glove, and protective helmet. She was happy to see it had a mask attached, similar to those worn by hockey players. It would be downright sinful for a face as perfectly rugged as his to be injured. His jeans hugged his butt as he swaggered more than walked down the pathway.
The chaps
he wore were relatively plain compared to most she’d seen. They were made of black leather, with fringe along the sides and bottom. Tan leather accents dressed them up a bit, but Tristan knew for certain that Bullet would want flashier chaps for actual competitions.
Perhaps she’d sketch a few designs for men’s chaps this afternoon too. She was sure her father expected her to be working on the Lost Cowboy line this week. She’d go home with some for him, along with more for her.
First she’d spend a few minutes making notes for Bullet’s Lost Cowboy story. It was another thing that had come out of her run-in with Harris. Comparing the two had made it so clear. Bullet was a Lost Cowboy, and he was working damn hard to find his way back. He was a flirt, no question, but the more she got to know him, the more she realized he was a decent man. The story was a go, and soon, so would the sponsorship.
There wasn’t anything Buck told Bullet that he hadn’t heard before from Bill. The difference was Buck was harder on him than Bill had ever been, and there wasn’t anyone or anything else to distract him from seeing every single mistake Bullet made. He was patient though, and while he pointed things out to him, Buck didn’t seem frustrated.
“Good first out.” He patted him on the back. “That’s enough for today. I have a good idea what we’ll focus on this week.” Buck handed Bullet a folder. “Here’s your workout schedule.” He pointed toward the same building Piper had. “You’ll find a workout room in there. When you finish your sets, I want you to hit either the steam or the sauna, but not both. Then get yourself into the hot tub.”
“Yes, sir.” Bullet said, perusing the sheets of paper in the folder. He’d never worked out this hard in his life, not even when he was in high school and played football and baseball.
“You swim?”
“Yes, I do.”
“In the back, you’ll see some workouts you can do in the lap pool. That’ll be less hard on your joints on days you’re feelin’ sore.”
Bullet saw Buck had a schedule for each day he would be at the ranch. It started right after breakfast and ended right before dinner. It looked as though he’d have time to himself in the evening, if he wasn’t too exhausted to move.
“Thank you, sir,” Bullet shook Buck’s hand. “I don’t know who set all this up, but I sure do appreciate your time. I guess I should ask what I’m gonna owe you.”
“That’s all taken care of. Don’t give it another thought.”
Bullet figured as much, which is why he hadn’t asked earlier. Could be that Flying R covered it as part of his sponsorship. Bill could’ve too, in which case, he’d pay him back every penny, either in cash or in damn hard work. There was a possibility it was his parents, but that was the least likely option.
Both he and Lyric had been raised to make their own way in the world. His gram’s house was nice, and they never wanted for anything they needed, but they were expected to earn their keep. As far as he was concerned, learning the value of a dollar and the importance of having a good work ethic were the best things his family had taught his sister and him.
He knew, if he ever really needed financial help, his parents would give it to him. So far, he hadn’t. Even with paying child support to Pearl’s mother and providing for Callie and Grey while they were still in Oklahoma and he was in Colorado, he’d made it work.
He did it by living simply, not extravagantly. And always working. He’d gotten his first ranch job while he was still in high school. While his buddies were still in bed, he was at the ranch, helping with morning chores. If he didn’t have sports practice after school, he’d be over there again. They paid him a good wage, but he earned it. Along with it, he’d earned a reputation that had ranches competing over him when it came time to hire for calving season or branding.
It was his off-hours that got him into trouble. When he’d go out after work, he and his buddies would dare each other to do just about anything. They’d have drinking dares, who could pick up certain women dares, who could come up with the best pickup line that actually worked dares.
He’d won that one hands down one night, with three different women. All he’d done was walk up, look’em up and down, and say, “Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?” It said something about the caliber of women they ran into at the bars in his hometown. Looking back on it, Bullet was ashamed of the way he acted.
If he ran into one of those buddies now, they’d have a hard time believing it had been over two months since he’d been with a woman. There had been a time when he couldn’t go two days.
Maybe he was finally growing up. And maybe he wasn’t quite as irresponsible as everyone else believed.
