Page 7 of Buck This (Battle of the Bulls #6)

Buck This had never been back to the stables before. This must’ve been where the barrel racers kept their horses.

Quickdraw Slow Burn paced away from him and back.

Quickdraw Slow Burn.

Quickdraw.

Slow. Burn.

Buck This didn’t know what to say in the presence of a legend.

“I have waited,” Quickdraw said. He parted his lips to say more and then paced away again.

Confused, Buck This lowered his duffle bag to a bale of shavings and sat down on it, feeling like he was in trouble. “Waited for what?”

“For you to fucking figure it out! You know you have to buck a perfect ride the next two nights in a row to win this competition now? Did you hear how many points they docked you for that false start? You gave Cobalt Blue another freaking shot. Why?”

“Why did I give him another shot?”

“Why did you freeze in the chute?” he yelled.

“That, you would have to tackle with my bull,” he gritted out, “As I don’t have any fucking control.”

“You’re how old now?”

“It doesn’t have to do with age.”

“You’re a mature bull now.”

“My bull doesn’t care! He doesn’t care if I win! He cares if he gets to destroy something.”

“What is the problem, man? Every single ride you have ten things go sideways. Do you know everyone in this arena knows it’s going to be a mess when you buck? They hired three extra bullfighters for this event, can you guess why?”

“Because of me?” Buck guessed, feeling like shit.

“And you know what?” Quickdraw said low. He sank down on a block of shavings across the aisle from him.

“What?” Buck asked tiredly.

“I love that fire.”

He’d been staring down at his clenched fists, but at the honesty in Quickdraw’s voice, Buck lifted his attention to him. “You what?”

“I love it. I love that your bull is a handful. I love that he wants to kill in the arena. I love that he wants to wreck everything every single time he explodes out of that chute. You just have to find balance.”

“I don’t know how.”

“They’re going to kick you out of the circuit, Buck This.”

“What?” he asked, his heart dropping right out of his chest.

“I was in the meeting today. That was before the chaos of your Change, and you trying to jump a fence tonight. You’re a liability, man.

Everyone is traumatized by what your bull did in Albuquerque.

You hurt people. You’re so exciting to watch, but you’re just as dangerous.

Why are you looking to the fences after you buck? ”

Buck shrugged.

“Why? Explain it so I understand.”

“I feel trapped after I buck. I feel panicked, like I can’t settle down.”

Quickdraw’s nostrils flared with his deep inhalation of breath. He relaxed back. “Does it have to do with what happened to your brother?”

“Don’t bring that up again,” he snapped. “That’s mine.” That story, no one had a right to ask about, and fuck Quickdraw for even bringing it up.

Quickdraw glared at him for a three-count. “Who is the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The girl who knew to call me when you were fighting. She was in the box with us tonight, but I’ve never seen her before. Who is she?”

“I don’t know. Her name is Torrey. I just met her tonight.”

“You just met her tonight, but you were making out with her to force a Change? I saw you. Kissed her and then went after her for about three seconds before your bull pulled off and did what your handlers needed you to do. You were going to jump the fence, and you saw her, didn’t you. She stopped the jump?”

“Maybe you fuckin’ screaming at me stopped the jump.”

“Mmm no. I saw your animal. He had his eyes on her and then pulled off the fence. My yelling didn’t stop shit, and you know it.”

“I don’t know who she is,” Buck This said, frustration building in his chest. “I just met her tonight.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Why are you asking me these questions,” he asked, standing.

He walked down a few stalls and back. “I had a bad buck tonight, again. I had a hundred insults hurled at me, again. Look,” he said, pointing to a group of guys at the end of this row staring at them and talking low.

“Everywhere I go I get this attention, and I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I wish I could come here and drown out the noise and Change easy and buck well and go home with a wad of cash winnings in my pocket, but it’s not like that. ”

“Yet.”

“Or ever. You said it yourself. They’re talking about kicking me off the circuit and honestly, I’m shocked it hasn’t happened sooner.”

“You sell tickets.”

“Bullshit.”

“You do.” Quickdraw sighed and stared at the guys at the end of the stables thoughtfully. “People like seeing disasters. It’s like the people who see a car wreck and slow down to check it out. You’re the car wreck. Who is your coach?”

“Me, myself, and I.”

“Good.”

“Why is that good?”

“Now I don’t have to ruffle any feathers. Let me coach you for the next two days. This is not an offer for sponsorship. There is a ninety-nine percent chance you are going to piss me off and prove my instincts wrong and I will never fucking speak to you again.”

But that one percent chance…

Hope swelled in his chest. “Why me? You said it yourself. I have to buck perfectly for the next two days. I can’t do that. No one can.”

“Well, I wish I had you up at my ranch training for an entire offseason before you were taking on competitions, for sure. Your bull is raw and needs a ton of training.”

“I don’t quit mid-competition. Never have, never will. If they allow me to buck tomorrow, I’m bucking.”

Quickdraw nodded slowly. “You bucked with a blown-out hip last year at the Iron Belt.”

Buck thinned his lips into a line. He hadn’t told anyone about that. “I was fine.”

Quickdraw leaned his elbows on his knees and leveled him with a serious look. “Two days, let me coach you. You have to actually listen to me, and try to be less shitty.”

“Great speech, coach ,” he said sarcastically.

“The first of many. First rule, go find that girl.”

“Why?”

“Because she settles something in you and I need your bull as calm as possible. It’ll be a miracle if we can get you through this without you killing anyone. If she settles you down at all, she’s on the team.”

“Uh, I don’t think she wants to be on the team. She’s a banker from Billings.” And she’d seen him at his worst in more than one moment tonight.

“I don’t care if she’s an underwater basket weaver from Antarctica, Buck, ask her to be on the fucking team.

It’s two days.” He stood up and stormed away.

“No more arguing, dick-bag. Just do what I say so we can try to get a wad of cash winnings in your pocket or whatever-the-hell you said is important.”

He said that last part really loud and his words echoed through the entire stable.

How many years had he wished for a coach?

One who was worth a damn. How many? Since he was eight and his brother started training him to buck?

A trainer and a coach were different. He’d grown up idolizing Quickdraw Slow Burn, and Dead of Winter, and First Time Train Wreck, and Two Shots Down, and Hagan’s Lace, and hell, he even respected Tuff Enough, Quickdraw’s son, who wasn’t even a bull or a rider.

He was a damn werewolf who rode broncs for a living and was the same age as Buck This.

And now Quickdraw was offering him coaching for two days during the biggest money-purse competition of the year? What was happening right now?

He wished his brother, Teague, was here to see this.

Buck This slammed his head back against the stall door to punish himself for letting that thought in. He couldn’t think about Teague. Not while he was in this competition.

All it did was make him worse.