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"I don't really know," he admitted. "Cody, I'm not a celebrity like the bull riders. I don't go to some bar, find someone, and have a wild night. I spend my evenings with sports medicine most times. The rest, we're on the road. I like to cook, because we camp a lot on our trips between events. I like the rush of making a save in the arena. I love the way it feels to work with Jorge and Isaac like we're sharing a brain. That's what I'm addicted to."
"And J.D.?" I asked.
He laughed and ducked his head. "Ok, I've had a little crush on him for a while."
"I always thought he was a dick," I admitted.
"He is," Tanner confirmed. "Thing is, J.D.'s a dick for the right reasons. Don't get me wrong, he iscrazy. Flat out, without a doubt, no bullshit kind of crazy. It also makes him the best rider the PBR has ever seen."
"Ty rides clean," I pointed out. "I used to study his technique."
Tanner murmured at that. "He does, but he gets bucked off more because he's not aggressive enough. I'm not sure if he's worried about getting hurt - which is valid - or if he just doesn't want it as much. J.D.? He rides his bulls like it's a fight, and he's not about to lose."
"I wanna do both," I admitted.
"You're well on your way," he assured me. "You sit those bulls like you're a part of them. You just need to take a few more risks if you wanna score higher."
"Spurring," I said. "That's where I suck. I just can't get the points because I don't have enough legs."
"And you're at least an inch taller than Emilio," Tanner said. "Cody, if you want to make a career on sponsor payouts and longevity, then ride like Ty. If you wanna get into the Hall of Fame, then ride like J.D. That's pretty much what you have to decide."
I spun up another forkful of pasta. "Know something, Tanner? This?" I looked up and met those pretty hazel eyes again. "I've never had a guy willing to sit around and talk about this stuff with me before. Most people think I'm playing at it. So, I dunno, thanks?"
"I love talking bull riding," he promised. "I live for this sport. I'm just no good at your side of it. Doesn't mean I haven't been in that arena long enough to pick up a few things."
"Like?" I asked.
"I know every bull, every rider's weakness, and all the techniques discussed by the announcers in my headset." He flashed me a smile. "And yeah, I know what they're saying about you on ESPN, too."
"And?" I begged before shoving the pasta into my face.
Tanner chuckled. "They're saying your technique is good, but you're too weak to keep up. Women don't have the upper body strength to stay with it. If you get bucked off, you'll break because you're more fragile or something. They're saying, Cody, that you're exciting because everyone thinks you're about to be the next big wreck."
"Fuck," I grumbled.
"So prove to them you're not," he said. "Let's show them that a pan boy from Iowa, a bi guy from Tennessee, and a pretty little lady from Missouri can get shit done when we wanna, and that those labels they wanna slap on us aren't gonna slow any of us down."
"And Ty?" I asked, aware he'd left him off of that.
Tanner shrugged. "You're the one sleeping with him."
I closed my eyes and groaned. "I'm gonna kill J.D. He sucks at keeping a secret."
"It came up when he was threatening to cut off my balls if I treated you wrong," Tanner assured me. "So don't kill him yet. He also made it very clear that you like the guy, I can't screw that up for you, but that if I play my cards right, I might still have a chance."
"I'm winging this," I told him.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Me too. Cody, I haven't been on a date in years. I'm fumbling here, ok? I also really want that chance, so I was thinking that maybe, after dinner, we might go get some drinks and I can show you that I know how to dance?"
I scrunched up my face at him. "I really don't."
"Two-step?" he asked.
"Barely," I admitted. "My only balance is on the back of a bull."
"My toes can take it," he assured me. "And maybe I shouldn't admit this, but I like that. You, Cody Lane, are nothing at all like what I expected."
"What exactly did you expect?" I asked.
