Page 5 of Buck This (Battle of the Bulls #6)

That all sounded awful and uninteresting, but Reece seemed excited, so Torrey said, “Awesome. I watched him.”

“From where? I looked for you but I didn’t see you.”

“Oh, I got a spot over there.” She pointed in the general direction of the chutes.

“Okay, weird,” Reece said sarcastically. “Next time respond to my text faster.”

“You texted me?” Torrey asked, checking her phone.

Reece looked at her phone too and then laughed. “Oh wait, I didn’t text you.”

“You were texting me , dork,” the blond said with a giggle.

This was weird. Okay, so Reece had made new friends, and Torrey was supposed to be okay with this, right? These girls matched her new life well, but it was happening so fast, and Torrey was already feeling left behind.

“Bye girl, I’ll message you when I’m ready to go home! Cobalt will be staying in his trailer tonight, but I can’t sleep on RV mattresses. He got me a hotel room. You can crash on the floor with me if you want.”

“Okay,” Torrey said softly as Reece marched away with her new friends. Had she forgotten Torrey had already booked a hotel room at the same hotel so they could spend time together? They had planned this trip together. Maybe Reece was just tipsy and distracted.

That or Torrey was invisible, as always.

Shaking her head, she followed the rails to the autograph room and made her way to the bar to grab a couple of beers.

Drinks in hand, she made her way around the backs of the autograph tables and to an open gate where she saw cowboys with loops of rope hung from their shoulders walking in and out of it.

Outside of the fencing, there was a huge open field, and near the building were more pens of horses and livestock. She scanned the groups of cowboys as she passed and nodded polite greetings to a few of them who were watching her.

It wasn’t until she reached the end of it all, at the very edge of the light, that she saw a lone cowboy sitting alone on a bale of hay.

He wore jeans and nothing else. Even his hat was sitting next to him upside down. His dark hair was longer than she’d thought, and was all mussed, like he’d run his hands through it out of frustration. The moonlight cast his muscular back in blue shadows.

“Hi, Buck This Storme,” she said softly.

Buck This Storme turned his head to the side just enough to show her his profile. “I don’t go by my circuit name.”

“Okay. Hi, Buck This?”

“Buck. Now go away.”

“So polite,” she said, ignoring his request. She stepped forward and offered him the beer.

He glared at the drink, then lifted his blazing green eyes to her before he took it and straightened up, downed the entire thing, and handed her back the empty.

“You can have mine too, if you want,” she offered.

He shook his head and cracked his knuckles, turned his face away from her.

“You did good.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “Look, whatever you think that was in there between us? It wasn’t.”

“Oh, I am aware,” she said, tucking the hem of her dress under her knees as she sat on another bale of hay near him.

“You don’t kiss a woman like that because you like her.

You kiss a woman like that when you’re trying to distract the devil inside of you.

I’m not here to see what we are. We’re strangers and that’s good enough for me. ”

“Then why are you here?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

She heard snickering behind them and cast a glance back to see a group of guys looking at Buck This and talking low. Talking shit, more like it.

He could probably hear every word. Everyone knew shifters could hear better than humans.

“I’m here to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m always okay. Question answered. I’m good. You can go away now.”

She looked at his closed off facial expression for a few seconds and then leaned back on one locked arm and took a swig of her beer and looked up at the sky. “You know, I’ll never forget the way Cobalt went flying through the air when you bucked him off.”

Buck This snorted, and when she looked at him, she caught the tail-end of a smile on his lips. “You don’t like him?”

She pursed her lips and considered the question. “I don’t like the way my friend Reece is since he’s come into her life.”

“Yeah well, he turns everything he touches to shit, so you know…not surprising.”

“Do you know him well?”

“Just from the circuit. He’s been wanting to draw my name for the last few events. He’s a cocky little fucker.”

She couldn’t help her smile. “I agree. Everybody thinks he’s a demigod or something, but I think he’s kind of a douche. He’s already bragged to Reece about how he rode you seven point five seconds.”

“Four point five if my animal wouldn’t have stalled.”

“That’s what I thought too. So, what happened to your horn?”

“Do you just ask whatever is on your mind?” he asked.

“Most of the time, yep.”

“Jesus, Lady.”

“I heard a rumor you might’ve damaged it with frostbite.”

He cast her a narrow-eyed glance. “Heard the rumor from who?”

She shrugged.

“Have you been asking about me?”

She shrugged again and took another drink of beer.

“I saw who you were sitting with.”

“Does that make me more interesting?” she asked.

He snorted. “They probably felt sorry for you and gave you a seat.”

“Actually, that’s depressingly accurate.”

He chuckled.

She told him, “I also got the ticket guy a beer to butter him up.”

He chuckled again and leaned back on locked arms, leaned his head back far enough so that she could see his Adam’s apple pressing against his muscular neck. “You’re a shit-show, City Slicker.”

“Your momma,” she jabbed.

His shoulders shook with another laugh.

“Look, now that I have connections I think I can get you a good seat for the barrel runner horsey thingies.”

“Barrel racing?”

“Yep.”

“I’m pretty sure I would not be welcome in that box.”

“Mmm, you were the talk of that box. I’m pretty sure they would be okay with me making you my plus-one.”

“What?” he asked.

“You have some guy named Quickdraw Slow Burn’s attention.”

“Yeah, when he was yelling at me not to jump the fence?”

“No, he was saying something about a sponsorship, but you get in your own way. Something something…and then he mentioned you being a shit-show.” She plastered a grin on her face.

Buck just sat there staring at her for a full fifteen seconds before he moved again. “You’re saying Quickdraw was talking about me?”

“And some guys named Dead of Winter and Two Shots Down, and this awesome lady I met named Raven.”

“Hagan’s Lace. Her name is Hagan’s Lace.”

“Okay.”

His eyes narrowed to little glowing green slits. “Who are you?”

“Your guardian angel.” She waited a full three seconds before she said, “Just kidding. I would not want that job.”

“Seriously, who are you?”

“Your pre-buck make-out partner?”

“Geez, woman, just answer the question straight.”

“Uuuh, who am I? That’s a good question.

” She nodded as she thought about it. “I am a marriage-failing, feral cat-feeding, bank-teller, occasional-margarita-drinking, trying-to-find-myself disaster of a woman. Some call me a city slicker. I’m a mediocre driver, who sticks-out-like a sore thumb wherever I go and can’t quite get it together.

Also, I’m a crochet queen from Billings.

If you ever need a crochet semi-warm blanket?

I’m your girl. It’ll take me two weeks though, so put in your order early. ”

He was nodding. “How many cats?”

“Six. Only one lets me pet it. Does that scare you? Crazy cat lady showing up out of nowhere to give you beers and compliments?”

He huffed a tired laugh. “I don’t need compliments. I don’t like them. I don’t know what to do with them.”

“Daddy issues?” she guessed.

“Don’t do that,” he muttered. “Don’t dig for information about me. I don’t like it.”

“What do you like?”

“Not feeling like a fuck up after I buck would be nice.”

She chewed the side of her lip to hold her next words in her throat. His admission touched her heart. He was a man that was hurting. Anyone with eyes could see that.

“I like your horns,” she said, changing the subject. “It makes you look even scarier.”

He cracked a smile, and God, what a handsome smile he had. It froze her into place. “I don’t think I should sit in the box with you. I have a reputation. You’ll have more fun without the attention.”

“Wait, you can ruin my reputation just by sitting by me? I’m in.”

“Chh, how many of those have you had?” he joked, twitching his chin toward her beer.

“Fourteen so far.”

“Seriously?”

“No. I had the margarita you saw me chug before you assaulted me with your lips, and three sips of this beer.” She took another sip. “Now four. About to be five—”

“Okaaay. Let me put a shirt on. I don’t even know if they’re going to let me buck tomorrow night. I got a fuckin’ penalty again so I’m basically out of the competition,” he said as he stood and pulled a T-shirt on.

“What can you win?” she asked as she stood and dusted hay from the backs of her legs. When she looked up, his eyes were glued to her cleavage, and when she checked, her tits were damn-near hanging out.

“Whoops,” she said, pulling the fabric back into place.

“You’re not wearing a bra, are you?” he asked.

“No, but I’m wearing pasties.”

“You’re wearing pastries?”

She giggled. “No, pasties. They’re little stickers you put over your…you know…”

“Nipples?”

“Yeah.”

“You have stickers on your nipples, and that’s all?”

“Yeah. They are star shaped and silver. They have sparkles. Look, if I turn in the light, you can see the sparkles through the fabric sometimes.”

Buck This wasn’t even blinking anymore. Just staring as she turned this way and that.

He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze, his dark eyebrows drawn down, then put his cowboy hat on. “We should go inside. Where there’s other people.”

He grabbed his duffle bag and this big, thick rope with a strip of leather on it.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Flank strap. It makes the bull buck harder.” Buck threw the rope over his shoulder and lead her toward the autograph room.