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But the bull was too close. A swipe of its head had Tanner's feet off the ground. I sucked in a breath and stood straighter as my boyfriend flew into the air. Isaac moved in, tapping the bull's horn to make it turn. Jorge hung back, keeping his attention on everything at the same time. But when Tanner's feet hit the ground and he was moving like nothing happened, the trio reformed around the bull.
The whole time, the cowboy was trying to get his ass out of the way. These bulls had a tendency to smash anything they could reach, but the truth was they just wanted to go back to their hay. So while the rider went one way, the bullfighters got the animal turned the other, and the staff on the ground opened the gate to let it out.
Still bucking, snorting, and kicking, the bull decided to take it. Sadly, the rider was bent over at the side of the arena, clearly hurting a bit. Like clockwork, sports medicine hurried out to check on him, and J.D. leaned in to bump my shoulder.
"You were worried. Admit it."
"A little worried," I admitted, knowing he was talking about Tanner getting tossed. "Just like I would be if it was you getting thrown around."
"Babe, I prefer to do the riding," J.D. teased before jerking his head to the side. "And I'm up soon enough."
Together, we headed over to gather his things and then find his chute. A check of the scoreboard showed I was fourth place, and the last group of bulls were now being moved in. All around us, people began moving. Most were heading for the back, aware they weren't going to place today. Some were still parked out, wanting to enjoy the show. Most were just making space for the last set of riders, though.
J.D. found his stuff where he'd placed it at the side. "Hold," he ordered.
I took his helmet and rope, but he had his glove and tape. Shoving his hand into the glove, J.D. wiggled his fingers all the way down to the ends, then began taping up the end tight around his forearm. While he focused on that, I looked over to check the order of go. There was a little ruckus going on, but nothing too bad - and then the chute opened.
"Fourth is riding," I told him.
He nodded and just kept taping, adding a lot more than I ever had. When J.D. was finally happy with it, he passed me the roll of tape, and took his helmet. I quickly shoved his tape into my back pocket, because I knew what came next. Sure enough, he thrust his hat at me and put the helmet on, wiggling it a few times to make sure it fit just the way he wanted.
"Here's a tip for ya," he said. "Getting your hair jacked wrong, or your shirt in your glove, or anything else that bothers ya, will make ya ride like shit." And then he began fastening the straps to hold his helmet on.
I just set his hat on one of the posts beside us. "Uh huh. Having this much hair, I'd never guess that." Then I stuck my tongue out at him.
J.D. leaned in to snag his rope off my shoulder, putting his face up close to mine. "Tease," he whispered.
Ok, I was grinning. I also liked the way that made a couple of butterflies take off in my stomach. There was just something about J.D. that caught me off guard, and I liked it. He always found some way to make me feel pretty, feminine, and yet still tough.
Then he slapped my arm and took off towards his chute. Like a lost little puppy, I followed behind him, knowing he'd need help. If I was his rookie - a title I was starting to not only embrace but also be proud of - then I was going to make sure he strapped in right.
"Hey," I said just as we reached his bull, "if you beat Ty's score, I'm buying your beer tonight."
That got me a grin, hidden behind the grill of his helmet. "We gonna play with the regulars tonight?"
The next rider burst out of his chute. The clanking and banging of the gate was loud, but not enough to distract me. "I think we should," I agreed.
J.D. nodded once, and then passed his rope over to the attendants. While they did their thing, he paused to glance at the scoreboard. That made me look, and I finally paused to see the rankings. I was still sitting in fourth with a score of 88.0. Ty was currently in first place with his 90.25, and there were only two riders left to go.
I barely thought it before the chute beside us opened, and the bull rushed out with a bang. One hoof hit the back wall, and the resulting sound was loud enough to make J.D.'s bull jump in place. J.D.'s rope slipped. The men trying to get it under the beast cursed and then started all over.
Right about the time they got it on, J.D. moved into place. I intended to step over, but a hand grabbed me, holding me back. "Not until the bull's out of the arena," Gustavo warned.
I looked back to find he was the one holding me in place. A moment of confusion hit, wondering what he was doing here, but it seemed that quite a few of the riders had come up to watch J.D. When I nodded, Gustavo let go. And yet the moment the bull was out of the arena, I stepped over. The tail of J.D.'s rope was waiting.
I grabbed that, braced my feet, and pulled. J.D. gestured for me to yank a little harder. Trying my best, I put my legs into all of it. The rope tightened just enough for J.D. to reach over and start warming it up. The first yank I handled. The second made me work for it. But on the third yank, Monologue decided that he didn't like this game at all.
The bull humped up and kicked up its back end. J.D. rocked forward. I tried to hold, but between one second and the next, the tension on the rope just let go.
For a split second, I was sure I was about to fall backwards. I tried to save myself, but the rope in my hands didn't pull me back up when I scrambled for it. Then J.D.'s hand grabbed my wrist. It was just enough to keep me from tumbling down onto the sand. For just a moment, J.D. and I stared at each other, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.
The problem was I still had half his rope in my hands. His bull had settled back down, and J.D. was standing over its back, his feet braced on the rails. My mind was spinning, but the frayed end told me enough.
"Get that rope off that bull!" I ordered, hurrying back over the chute. "It broke. It's useless."
The attendants actually listened, but I was now a girl on a mission. Ignoring the bigger cowboys around me, I wove through all of them. When I bumped someone a little too hard, he cursed at me, but that wasn't enough to slow me down. Not until I reached my own gear. There, hanging beside my pretty pink helmet, surrounded by all the gear of the Brazilians, was my own bull rope.
A twist and a pull got that free, and then I started running. This time, the other riders got the fuck out of my way. Clearly, they could recognize a woman with a purpose! The metal of the temporary walkway clanked loudly under my feet, but when I got back to J.D.'s chute, it was just as they got the rope away from the bull.
