Page 10 of Buck This (Battle of the Bulls #6)

Buck kind of missed the little weirdo.

Torrey was a stunner, and it wasn’t just the big, soft tits he was attracted to either.

Usually that was the only thing he noticed on buckle bunnies, but Torrey was different.

She wasn’t here trying to get a man. She was just here living her quirky little life and brightening rooms. She had this dark hair that hung in waves down her shoulders and shone under the arena lights.

She wasn’t a classic bleach-blonde but did have a few caramel highlights in her hair.

The boots she was wearing were kind of badass, honestly.

He’d never owned a pair of Dr. Martens, but now he wanted to do some research on them.

Her figure was so sexy in that tight little sundress, and after she’d mentioned the sparkles of her titty-stickers last night, he’d had a hard time keeping his eyes off them.

She’d turned them into fishing lures to a man like him.

Her face was so pretty. She had light freckles that peeked out from under her make-up that he thought were so damn cute.

But more than how sexy she was on her exterior, she was very interesting to talk to.

She really was a room brightener. Everywhere she went last night, she’d made friends.

The ticket guy, Raven and her herd. She just fit in.

Whatever situation she was in, every time he saw her, she was just doing her thing, not needing a single ounce of attention from anyone.

She wasn’t flashy or loud, which he appreciated.

A banker. Ha. Never in a million years would he have thought he would be thinking about a banker’s tits before. He’d always like cowgirls because that’s all he’d known. A woman would have to fit into his life, and his life revolved around rodeos and competitions and traveling and training.

They were from two different worlds.

“Where’s your head at?” Quickdraw barked.

On Torrey’s tits, honestly.

“You left your flank strap on the gate!” Quickdraw yelled.

He sure yelled a lot. All through training this morning he’d yelled until his throat had gone hoarse.

It hadn’t gone smoothly, of course. Buck had struggled for an hour to Change, and then when he had, he’d gone through a panel in the corral and Quickdraw had to spend another hour getting him loaded into a chute.

He’d only got a few bucks in before he went through the fence again and had Quickdraw cussing up a storm.

So…then Buck tried to kill Quickdraw, and training was called off.

Fun times. Super productive.

He jogged to the gate and grabbed his gear, then made his way to his truck.

“I don’t know why you refused to ride with me,” Quickdraw said out his open window. “It’s a damn waste of gas.”

“I don’t like being trapped in small spaces with other shifters,” he gritted out. “It makes me feel crazy.”

“Like everything else makes you crazy.”

“Yeah, and now you’re starting to get it. I tried to tell you this last night!”

“I’ll meet you at the arena. Tessy is apparently working the merch stand now and needs to be picked up.”

“Her name is still Torrey, and I’ll do it. We’ll meet you there.”

“Do you even know where we’re eating?”

“Skip’s Barbecue! I do listen, you know.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Quickdraw barked as he rolled up his window and pulled away.

Was this what it was like having a coach? No one had ever trained him but Teague, and he’d died two years ago. Fuck. The thought of his brother punched him in the gut.

He tossed his gear in the back of his truck and got in, gripped the steering wheel while he waited for the pain in his chest to pass.

Teague’s ghost sure was knocking on his mind during this competition.

Thoughts of him had been coming out of nowhere, but for the life of him, Buck This couldn’t figure out why.

He’d gotten so good at locking away the memories.

Maybe he needed some whiskey. That or maybe Torrey could knock him over the head with a frying pan and he could just be unconscious until it was time to buck tonight.

The riders would be drawing bulls soon. He had a list of wants. He needed a good rider in order to get a good score tonight.

Damn, he wished he had Torrey’s number. Raven had said it aloud to Quickdraw last night, but he’d been too focused on the shit-talking happening over in the next box.

They were not his fans. He wished he could send her a message that he was headed her way to pick her up.

He kind of wished he could tell her how bad training had gone too.

She would probably say something funny to make him laugh, and his mood would lighten.

She’d done it last night after his bad buck.

He couldn’t recall a time he’d ever come out of a funk after a bad buck like that.

Smiles didn’t exist on nights like last night, but she’d had him laughing.

Laughing! Like he wasn’t a damn mess. He’d even felt normal at moments.

God, how long had it been since he felt normal?

That little human was magic or something.

She had his attention, for sure. He had two days of teamwork with her before they went their separate ways, and a part of him wanted to drag it out as long as possible.

He sped to the Cascade Arena. There was a huge carnival running all day in the empty field beside the arena, so the parking lot was busy. He backed his truck right up beside the fence to get in and hopped out.

“Ticket,” the checker called as he walked past the line.

He tossed her a look and prepared to explain he would only be here a second, but a little boy of about eleven or so was sitting in a chair beside her, staring at his phone. He looked up at that moment and his eyes went wide. “Mom, that’s Buck This Storme.”

Buck halted. “You know me?”

The boy nodded, his eyes as wide as saucers.

“Well, go on in then. Use the athlete entrance next time, will you?” the ticket checker deadpanned.

“We’ll be rooting for you tonight,” the boy called after him.

Buck This snorted and walked away, shaking his head. Well, they had been nicer to him than the usual attention he got.

He could see Torrey way before he got to the table.

There was a crowd in front of the table waiting to order T-shirts, but from this angle, he had a clear view of her.

She had her back to him, and her long dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail.

It had waves down to the middle of her back, and she wore two red gemstone barrettes pinning back the curls that had fallen out of her hair band.

She wore denim shorts with the W on the pocket that dragged a smile across his lips.

Where had she tracked down Wrangler shorts?

He would guess either from one of the booths around here, or from Raven. Okay, pretty girl.

She was still rocking her Dr. Martens, and a white T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She had a simple little heart tattoo on the back of her right arm. He’d noticed it last night too. Cute.

She turned and her smile stopped his advance. She wore red lipstick today that matched the logo on her shirt. And when he saw that logo his heart damn-near stopped.

It was a simple line drawing of him shotgunning a beer on the jumbotron with a cursive caption above it that read Buck This, Buck That, Buck It All .

What the hell?

He looked at the T-shirt options as he got closer, and there was a vintage charcoal gray T-shirt with a dove gray outline of his bull, crooked horns and all. Underneath was scribbled We’re breaking the rules tonight boys.

As he approached, he saw two more T-shirts that featured him.

When Torrey spotted him, her grin got even bigger. She hit a little pose and pointed to the logo on her shirt, and then to him and waggled her eyebrows.

Fuck, he liked her.

“What have y’all done,” he murmured as he approached the side of the table.

“What we’ve done is dang-near sell out of the Buck It All shirts already,” she said.

The excitement in her voice was catching.

“I just texted the printer that we need an emergency print of them. He doesn’t have the white shirts in stock, but he’s doing different colors.

” She had a little money apron on and was holding a stack of cash.

“Um, hi,” a twenty-something lady said from the front of the line.

“Hey,” he said, waiting for her to insult him.

“Can you sign my shirt?”

Buck This glanced at Torrey. “Translate?”

“She wants your autograph, Bucko. I’ll grab a marker.”

“Why would you want my autograph? I’m not even in the running to win this thing.”

“I saw you jump the fence in Albuquerque. My cousin was there, and she sent me a video of it. You were all over the news.”

“For fucking up.”

“Buck This,” Torrey said low, handing him a marker. “When a fan asks for an autograph, you just give them one.”

Oh. Right. Fans. He hadn’t had those before. He’d had haters instead.

He cleared his throat and spread out the T-shirt she handed him on the table, then signed it.

Buck This.

Stay Bad.

The woman squealed and showed her friend and then thanked him like a hundred times.

“Well, that was weird,” he said, and turned for Torrey.

“Can you sign mine too?” a young boy asked.

“And mine?” a dad with a kid on his shoulders asked.

“I’m buying the black one,” said a lady in line. “Do you have a lighter colored pen?”

“I’ll find one!” Torrey volunteered, and then she was off.

He’d barely signed three of the white t-shirts before she returned with a silver pen. She was out of breath like she’d run, and her eyes sparked with excitement.

And something possessed him. He was surrounded by people, and the crowd was growing, and he had this moment of drowning. He was overwhelmed under the mass of people pressing forward, and he had the urge to snap and tell everyone to leave him alone.

But…

Torrey was looking at him like he was worth a damn, and in this moment, he sure wanted to be worth a damn.