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“You’re damn right I would’ve talked you out of it.” Nikki stalks toward the middle of the room, plants her hands on her hips, and lifts an eyebrow at some of the other guys, a silent request that they get out.
Lincoln Bennett, my best friend in this business, is the first one to move. Pushing up from the floor, he shoots me a good luck look and taps some of the other guys on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s give Rhett some privacy.” On his way out of the locker room, he tips his hat to Nikki. “Nicole.”
“Thank you, Linc,” she says.
She waits for the locker room to clear and then turns to me, eyebrows raised.
She’s not going to intimidate me. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb. You may be crazy, but no one ever called you dumb.”
“I don’t know what you want from me.” I shrug. “They offered a fifty-grand bonus if I stay on for eight seconds. I couldn’t pass that up.”
“They offered you fifty grand because no one has been able to stay on that damn bull for longer than four seconds.”
“Until me.” I shoot her a cocky smile, and she rolls her eyes.
“Until you. Riiiiiiiight,” she says. “Lucifer has been responsible for forty-seven injuries this year alone, and unless you’ve forgotten, you’ve got commitments outside of the arena, commitments that will earn you well over fifty grand.”
“I’m well aware of the risk, and as far as Wrangler and Powerade are con—”
“Gatorade.”
“Whatever. The point is, bull riding is my job, and it comes first.”
Fifty grand is nothing to Nikki. She was born into money, and even though she works her ass off, she doesn’t really need her job.
She may come from cash, but I come from a ranch in Heaven, Texas. My parents—although they’re doing well now—have practically killed themselves for every dime they have, and even though I’ve got a decent cushion in my bank account, it’s not enough. It might never be enough. Being a bull rider is a precarious job, and it doesn’t always pay the best, which is why I’ve let her talk me in to a few modeling gigs and the occasional commercial.
Every time I get on one of those bulls, I’m putting my career and my life at risk. If something happens and I lose the ability to work, I need to know I’m going to be financially stable until I find something else to do. So, yes, whether she understands it or not, I need that fifty grand.
“Call it off.”
She’s smoking crack. “No way.”
As Nikki well knows, I don’t back down. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it, which is probably why she pinches her lips into a thin line and strides across the room. Her hand hits the door knob and she stops, but doesn’t look back.
“You better stay on that bull, Rhett Allen, or so help me God, your ass is mine.”
“Not a problem, darlin’.”
