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When he saw my huge shit eating grin, his face morphed from concern to anger. “Are you fucking insane, Tessa May? You could have died,” he roared, and I had no problem hearing him over the crowd.
I sat up, still grinning. “Yep, so could you. How long did I stick it for?”
Beau’s lips twitched. He wasn’t as big of an asshole as Branch. “Five-three. It was a good ride.”
Branch slapped him on the back of the head then stood, reaching down to haul me to my feet. He frogmarched me out of the ring and I hoped none of the crowd could see I was a girl. I didn’t want it to detract from my ride. I’d stuck it for five seconds.
The rodeo medic was there when I walked out of the arena, and his face as he recognized me was hilarious. I’d known the doc since I was an infant. “Tessa May, what are you doing?” he gasped, and I knew that in exactly two minutes, word would get back to Daddy.
“I was flyin’, Doc,” I grinned.
He shook his head in bemused worry. “Let’s see if that fall knocked any sense into that head of yours, shall we?”
Branch stormed off, but Beau stood beside me as the Doc checked me over. When the door opened and closed, Beau’s face went pale and I knew who stood there. Uh oh.
“Tessa May!” The roar rattled the windows, and I looked over my shoulder at my father, and I smiled softly.
“Did you see me ride? Did you see?” I whispered, and his face melted. He loved me. He loved me more than anything in the world. He wouldn’t stay mad at me, but he would ground me for life for this.
He shook his head. “I saw. Get in the damn car. We are going home.”
Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in the front seat of my Daddy’s truck with an icepack pressed to my shoulder. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, despite the absolutely thunderous expression on my father’s face.
“Why Nugget? Why the hell do you test me like this? Have I not been a good father?”
I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “You’re the best, and you know it. I want to ride. I don’t think it's fair that I can’t because I'm a girl.”
Daddy shook his head. This was an argument we’d had a million times. “That's not the only reason Nugget, and you know it.”
I made a rude noise. “If I was your son and not your daughter, you’d be proud as hell of me right now.”
Daddy grunted. “It’d make no difference. I am proud of you, Nugget. So damn proud. But it scares the shit out of me that one wrong kick and you’d be taken from me too.” His voice cracked, and I knew he was thinking of Mama. She died when I was a baby. Brain aneurysm. Daddy had come home from work one day, found me sound asleep in my bassinet and Mama dead on the couch, a smile on her face.
But it had devastated him, and a little guilt ate away at my happiness. “I’m sorry. But it's what I want to do. I’ll wear all the protective gear. I’ll bail early. But Daddy, on the back of that bull? I felt more alive than I’ve ever felt in my life.”
Daddy shook his head, but a small smile tilted his lips. “So damn headstrong. Alright, Nugge-”
Whatever he was going to say died in his throat. A car crossed into our lane, and Daddy yanked the car to the right. I screamed as the car plowed into our truck. As it flipped end over end, I thought how much this looked like coming off that bull only an hour earlier.
Eight seconds to fly or die.
THREE YEARS LATER
I jump off my bull, dismounting easily. My draw had been a bit of a sleepy old bastard, but I rode him with style and hopefully that would be enough. I just needed to boost up my points a little bit more and then I could enter a cup tournament. I hightailed it off the sand while Frankie showed off for the crowd. Frankie was nuts, but he was also my best friend.
The bull wasn’t really overly aggressive and trotted out of the arena now that he knew he had done his job. I headed out the gate toward the back, nodding to the guy getting ready to ride. He nodded back respectfully, though it wasn’t always that way. The Rodeo had always been a boy’s club, and the first year after I came back, after the… accident, had been tough.
My mind stuttered away from the accident. The screams, the crunching metal. Waking up and seeing my father’s lifeless eyes. I sucked in a breath, trying to keep the panic at bay. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not now. One meltdown and all that hard earned respect I'd garnered over the years would be down the drain in a moment.
An arm came around my shoulders and I looked over. Frankie’s smile was wide but his eyes were concerned. I shuddered with relief as I focused not on the memories, but on the feel of his arm around my shoulders.
“You good,Querida?” he whispered and I nodded. Frankie was my savior. He was a bit crazy, a bullfighter on the circuit because his brother had come up here from Brazil to ride and Frankie had come with him. When Luiz had gotten injured and gone home to Brazil, Frankie had stayed. He was my roommate, my travel buddy, my rock. I loved him to pieces.
I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow and smiled up at him. “I’m good. Shitty memories trying to creep in. We hitting up a party later?”
Frankie knew about my past. About the accident. When I’d been shipped off to my aunt out in Cali, I hadn’t been able to see a bull for a year until I turned eighteen. But as soon as I could, I headed back down to Texas and signed up for the first tournament I could find. I paid my dues, even if the WBRP people gave me a funny look. I had nothing to prove to them. The only person I wanted to prove anything to was dead and gone. So I rode for me. For the love of it.
Luiz and Frankie had been as out of place in that first tournament as I had, and we bonded together as outsiders. Luiz was older than Frankie and me, and while he’d looked out for me, even beaten down a couple of loud mouthed cowboys, it was Frankie who really had my back.
