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"Got that," I promised. "I'm more concerned about the broken bones."
"Oh, because you're some hotshot?" white shirt asked.
Which was right when my scores flashed up on the big screen, making all of us turn. There, in bright white numbers was the proof this weekend was even more fucked than Cheyenne.
93.75
I'd been out of position for almost half that ride, but they'd just put me right up at the top of the points for the night. Hell, for the weekend. For a moment, I felt like the entire world stopped around me. The sounds of the crowd out there grew muffled in my mind. My heart hung.
Ninety-three and three-quarters. That was the kind of score I should be cheering about, but I didn't deserve it. It also wasn't the first time. As my pulse came back, pounding like a drum in my ears, all the pieces began to slam into place.
J.D. was sidelined with an injury. He was the "bad boy" of the PBR. Me? I was the pretty one. My fans were often women. I knew I was popular. That was why I had patches all over my vest, helmet, and even down the sleeves of my shirt. I'd sold myself on my best pickup lines and sexy smiles. I was a fucking whore for the PBR, and now the PBR was rewarding me for my "service."
"Fuck," I mumbled, forcing my feet into motion so I could leave the arena.
"Yeah, you go, cowboy," the guy in the white shirt called after me.
So I spun. "Shove it up your ass, sidekick," I yelled back. "That?" And I stabbed my finger in the direction of the scoreboard. "It's bullshit. It's as much bullshit as the need for the three of you out here. It's as much bullshit as the number of riders in Sports Medicine right now! It's fucking bullshit, and maybe I'm the lucky one who got picked, but I didn't ask to win, because this is a goddamned popularity contest!"
"Get the fuck out of the arena," the man in blue told me.
I huffed in frustration, but that was where I was already going. Maybe storming was a better word, because seeing that number pissed me off a hell of a lot more than I'd expected. As I made it out of the arena, I turned back to look at the scoreboard once again.
My name was sitting at the top in first place. I should've been thrilled. My goal had been to beat Cody, showing her I could actually do this, but I hadn't. The judges had scored me higher, but I certainly hadn't ridden better than her.
She'd been on that exact same bull, in this exact same arena, and had made it look easy. Worse, how was I supposed to collect on this bet she'd made with me if we both knew my scores were inflated while hers were being kept low?
And the truth was she'd outridden me. Time after time this weekend, that woman had pulled off rides that should've been celebrated, but given scores in the middle of the pack. I had no clue what the PBR officials were thinking, or why they hated her so much, but fuck that!
I'd come to the PBR to prove I was more than my looks. I wanted people to see I could actuallydosomething. I'd wanted to make a name for myself outside of my small town in Alberta. I'd wanted to make that name, though, not have it handed to me on a silver platter.
I'd loved the competition of this sport. I'd enjoyed the challenge of staying on and riding better each time. Sure, maybe I'd slipped in the middle and had gotten complacent, but that was because I'd stopped feeling challenged. I was making money. Shit, I made a lot of money doing this. And every so often, I got another fancy buckle to toss in a drawer back home.
But Cody? She had to prove she deserved to be here. For me, it was assumed to be my right. For her - the better rider - it was assumed she was on easy mode. I couldn't wrap my fucking mind around how this was supposed to be fair.
So fuck the bet. Fuck trying to impress her. Fuck the way I'd screwed up with her, taking her for granted and thinking she was just something here for me to use. That was what everyone else was doing to her. That was why she'd been so damned pissed off at me.
All she'd wanted was a chance to prove herself, just like I did, but back in Cheyenne, I'd made it clear she should be second to me. My wants should come first. My "needs" had outranked hers in my mind. My everything came first, and with the PBR handing me high scores while giving her low ones, that had to have felt like fucking salt in her wounds.
Of course she'd dumped me. Of course she wanted more. That woman fucking well deserved it too, and as I stood there, looking at my name placed right above hers for the entire weekend, I finally understood what Hannah had been trying to tell me.
It wasn't about me. I was living my life on easy mode. Cody was the one making a difference, so I only had two options left. I could get the fuck out of her way, or I could help her out. Neither one had a damned thing to do with getting her in my bed, though - and it shouldn't.
Because this wasn't about me. It had never been about me. I'd just been too blind to realize that until now.
Chapter57
Ty climbed backover the rail, and then his score showed up. Fucking ninety-three and three-quarters for that? It was bullshit, but sitting right under him? Cody. Somehow, that girl of mine had managed to come in second, even with everyone trying to pull her down.
Shit scores, bad bulls, alternate bullfighters, and everything else - not to mention her injury - and she'd still come in the top five. That was a bonus for her from her sponsors. The PBR would be writing her a damned nice check too. I was pretty sure she cared about none of it, though. Naw, Cody was probably real pissed that she'd been fucked on her score.
"Hey," I told Tanner as I pushed slowly to my feet. "I'm gonna go give Cody some congratulations before she goes out."
"You need help?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Pretty sure you and me need to not be making more rumors." I smiled to make sure he didn't take that wrong. "You stay up here with your boys. I got this."
"You're fucking hurt," Tanner reminded me, as if I could forget.
