Chapter Eight
“So…you ended up on a ranch?” Joss prompted.
“Yes.” He took a mouthful of beer. “My case worker knew this guy, Martin Forrester, and convinced him to take me on for a couple of months at his cattle property.”
“You didn’t like it?”
“Hell no. That first month I was a right pain in the ass. But Martin’s a tough old guy. Big on discipline and personal responsibility. He didn’t take any of my shit and the more I kicked up, the harder he drove me. Then one day he was so pissed off with something I’d done, he pointed to the meanest bull I’d ever seen in my life and said, “All right, dickhead. Let’s see how shit hot you really are.”
He smiled at the memory and it was so warm and genuine Joss couldn’t help but smile back. “What happened then?”
“He dared me to ride it for eight seconds.”
“And did you?”
“Hell no. It tossed me in two seconds. But it was the most exhilarating two seconds of my life and I was hooked. And he had me because I’d do just about anything to get on the back of a bull and he used it shamelessly to bend me to his will. Turned me into a half decent cowboy pretty quickly after that.”
He laughed and shook his head as he pressed the bottle to his mouth again. Joss wondered how those cool lips would feel pressed between her thighs and squirmed in her seat.
“Sounds like he knew what he was doing.”
“Oh yeah, he’s a canny old bastard.”
She smiled at the obvious affection. “He means a lot to you.”
He nodded, his gaze serious. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Martin Forrester. For the whole Forrester family. They saved my life.”
The depth of his sincerity and insight held her in his thrall, their eyes locked. Who’d have thought stark honesty could be such a freaking turn-on? She wanted to stand up, grab his shirt and haul him and his mouth across the booth.
But their dinner arrived at that precise moment, saving them both from a public display of affection she probably wouldn’t live down in this town all the years of her life. She either knew or was vaguely acquainted with seventy-five percent of the people in the room and the town thrived on gossip.
She quizzed him about the ranch as they ate and he kept her entertained with hair-raising stories of what he and Aaron Forrester had gotten up to in the Top End, as he called it, including a spot of croc wrestling.
No wonder he rode bulls for a living.
If even half of those stories were true, Troy was obviously a total adrenaline junkie.
She wondered if crime had given him the same kind of buzz and that’s why he rode bulls—finding another way to get that high. She supposed there was a certain type of woman who was in to that kind of stuff and it was entertaining as heck to listen to. But a lot harder to be the other half, she imagined.
Was that why he was still single? Or was he just having too much fun to settle with one woman?
“Earth to Joss?”
Joss blinked. She’d drifted into her head and hadn’t heard Troy. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
He laughed. “I think I’ve been saying too much. Tell me about you.”
“There’s nothing much exciting in my life, I’m afraid. It’s all pretty boring. No crocodile wrestling in my past.”
“No but you must have had Damien when you were eighteen or nineteen, yes? And still you became a doctor? That’s not nothing.”
“Oh.” She nodded her head in faux seriousness. “You want to hear about the exciting struggles of a teenage mother?”
He laughed again. “I admire you, is all. That can’t have been an easy juggle?”
Joss’s belly flipped at the compliment. This guy had a unique ability to turn her on with the most un-sexy words on the planet. “It did throw a bit of a spanner in the works. I was nineteen. Andy and I had only been going out for a couple of months. I met him on campus. He was studying architecture.”
She smiled remembering how proud Andy had been to be the only one in his family to have gone to college. “For two supposedly smart people we were pretty dumb.”
“Sex makes people dumb.”
Joss laughed. Never had truer words been spoken. “That’s deep there, cowboy.”
“Hey.” He grinned. “I have layers, you know.”
Oh yeah, he was a regular onion.
“Anyway…we were in love and the baby was ours and we wanted him from those first pink stripes on the preg test so we just made it work. We got married, kept studying. I dropped down to part time. It took me almost nine years and we were drowning in a huge mortgage and student loans and we couldn’t have been happier.”
He smiled. “It’s sounds nice.”
Her chest ached with nostalgia and squeezed at the streak of wistfulness in his voice. Her life had been a clambake by comparison. “It was.”
“Do you mind me asking how he died?”
Joss shook her head. “No, I don’t mind. It was a car accident. It was winter in Chicago—the roads were icy. He was waiting at a red light, the car behind him lost control and plowed into Andy, pushing him across the intersection just as a car was coming through.”
As long as Joss lived she’d never forget opening the door to those two stony-faced police officers.
“I’m sorry. That must have been very difficult for you both.”
After reassuring him she was fine to talk about it, Joss felt absurdly like crying. Not from the startling depth of his empathy but because he’d been sensitive to the fact that it hadn’t just been her loss.
“It was.”
“And you moved here a year ago. Because of Damien?”
Joss nodded. “If you’d asked me a few months prior to our move if I’d ever leave Chicago I would have told you no. Hell no. But I was just holding it all together there. I was able to pay down some of our debt from Andy’s life insurance but there was still a lot owing, which made money even tighter without a second income.”
Even now the financial stress of that time was enough to make her shudder.
“So I increased my shifts at the hospital, which was a real juggle with Damien’s needs. And then he went and got himself possessed by some horrible demonic teen spirit and I’m pretty sure exorcisms are illegal so when Gus suggested we move to Plainview it was the next best thing.”
His warm chuckle soothed the memory of frazzled nerves. “If you’re after the opinion of a single, male bull rider who has no intention of ever having any rug rats, which—” He waggled his eyebrows. “—I’m sure you are. He’s a good kid, Joss.”
She gave him her best cut-the-crap look. “You caught him trying to steal money from your car.”
“Yeah, but he was really bad at it. Which tells me he hadn’t been doing a lot of it. And, by the way he was absolutely shitting himself on the way to your place. He was terrified of you finding out.”
“Great. So my kid’s scared of me?”
“That’s a good thing,” he assured hastily. “It means he knows there are going to be consequences. Nothing much scared me.” He stared at his beer bottle, his thumb rubbing absently along the label. “Not repercussions or what people thought. I really just…didn’t care what happened to me. Damien cared. He cared a lot.”
Joss was both saddened for teen Troy and immeasurably bolstered by adult Troy’s assurances.
From his lips to God’s ears.
“He’s angry.” She sighed. “About his father dying. But then I suppose so were you.”
“I wasn’t angry. I was numb.”
It was a chilling admission and Joss shivered at how empty it sounded. And what a contrast it was to the warm, funny, laid-back guy she’d come to know.
“Was he always?”
Joss frowned, struggling to follow his question, caught up for a moment in the desolation of Troy’s terrible past.
“Angry,” he prompted. “About his father’s death?”
“Oh. No.” She fiddled with the stem of her wineglass. “He was sad…distraught actually, when it first happened. He was only ten. But then he took on this protective role of me. I think Gus must have told him he was the man of the house now or something.”
He’d been so sweet back then, always checking on her, always worried about her feeling sad. He used to make her cards every day at school to cheer her up.
“But I guess all sweet ten-year-old boys eventually grow into pubescent teens, and money was tight so I was working a lot and he resented that and therefore me by association. And I think he really missed not having a man to talk to about guy stuff so he felt Andy’s loss all over again, not as a boy but as a young man trying to find his way. He has Gus now but it’s not the same.”
“Sure.” Troy nodded. “But most importantly, he has you.”
“Yeah…” She shook her head. “I’m not sure he sees it that way.”
“Trust me, he will. You and your love and your approval and support and even your discipline will get him through this. Damien’s on the top of a slippery slope but the difference between him and me is that I didn’t have a mother who loved me. Who was on my side. So don’t underestimate yourself, okay?”
Joss was extraordinarily touched by Troy’s words. Touched and saddened for little boy Troy who’d been dealt such a shitty hand. “Well thank you.” She smiled hoping like crazy her eyes weren’t bright and glassy. “But do you think we can talk about something else? This is supposed to be an enjoyable night out, right?”
He smiled. “Of course. I’d like to hear some funny medical stories. You must have some of them?”
“Plenty. Including a pineapple in a place a pineapple should never go.”
“Jesus.” His eyes bugged and she suppressed laughter. “How the fuck did a pineapple get up there?”
“Slipped in the shower.”
He thought about it for a moment then frowned. “What?”
Joss laughed. “They always slip in the shower.”
He laughed too and they spent the next half an hour discussing some of Joss’s more risqué medical stories.
“So tell me, what’s it like?” Joss asked as their plates were being cleared. “Being on a wild bucking bull? What’s it really like?”
He sat back in the booth and studied her for a beat or two. “When I was a kid, me and my delinquent mates used to play chicken with the cars on the major highway near where we used to live. We’d choose peak hour and bolt across it, full pelt. It was a high-octane rush. I’d be absolutely shitting myself on the way across but it was totally exhilarating when I got to the other side. I felt like Superman. Which is exactly how it feels to ride a pissed-off bull.”
Joss gaped at him. It was miracle Troy Jensen had survived his childhood. “As an ER doctor I have to tell you that sounds completely terrifying. You could have been killed.”
He grinned. “But I wasn’t.”
She realized then that what she’d thought was a reckless streak was more like a death wish.
“You want to know what it’s like?” He tipped his chin in the direction of the mechanical bull. “Hop on that thing. It’ll give you some idea.”
Joss glanced over to the cushioned ring that had been set up around the stylized metallic bull’s torso. “Hell no.”
He shot her an indolent look as he tucked his fist under the armpit of his good arm and flapped it like a wing. “Bok. Bok, bok, bok.”
“Seriously?” She folded her arms. “How old are you?”
Oh yeah…twenty-seven. Sweet baby cheeses.
“C’mon, Joss…” His hand crept across the table toward her. “You know you want to.”
“I seriously don’t. Plus I’m really uncoordinated.”
His hand slid onto her folded arm and every nerve ending in the proximity went into rapture. “J-ossssss.” He sung it lightly, teasing her.
“Do I look stupid to you? That thing is just plain crazy.”
“And when was the last time you did something crazy?”
Joss cocked an eyebrow. Was he kidding? “You have to ask?”
A slow lazy grin warmed his face. “That wasn’t crazy. That was hot.”
She rolled her eyes. He would say that, wouldn’t he? “My skirt.”
“Is long.” He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Too long to flash anything when you fall off.”
“When huh?”
He nodded. “When.”
“I’m more worried it might end up above my head.”
He laughed but stopped abruptly when she glared at him. “I promise I won’t look when you get tossed.”
Joss glanced around her at the full restaurant. “And what about the other hundred people in here?”
“Oh come on.” He affected an air of fake severity. “Good decent southern folk would surely avert their eyes from a lady in a state of undress.”
She snorted. Half the men in here would trample over their wives for a glimpse of panties.
“Come on.” He stood and held out his hand. “Let me show you why I do it.”
And in that moment she wanted to know. To understand why a guy would risk death every night for some kind of cheap thrill. “Fine.” She stood, ignoring his hand. “But if I break something I’m suing you.”
He laughed. “Over what?”
“I don’t know. But this is America. For damn sure I’ll find a lawyer who can tell me.”
*
Joss stared at the mechanical half beast. It was fierce-looking considering it was just a bit of machinery wrapped in fake cowhide. Although the fake bull’s head and horns were remarkably lifelike.
“Okay…climb up here—” He slapped the concave slope of the bull’s back. “And grab this rope.”
Strictly speaking, Troy shouldn’t be in the ring with her but nobody at Johnny’s was going to tell The Wonder from Down Under that.
Unfortunately they’d drawn quite a crowd.
“Awesome. A Troy Jensen master class,” a young guy called from somewhere. Troy gave his admirers a little wave.
He cupped his good hand down low and indicated for her to put her foot in it. Joss did so reluctantly, preferring the safety of the thick foam landing mats beneath her feet. He boosted her like he’d been doing it all his life and she rather inelegantly swung her leg over the beast.
Her skirt was long and flowy with plenty of length and fabric for her to sit astride and not flash half the steakhouse. The excess material between her legs dipped low along the bull’s back and she bunched it there slightly just to be on the safe side. It was slippery though and she nearly fell off the other side while getting herself comfortable.
The crowd laughed as Troy grabbed and steadied her. “Jesus, Joss. They haven’t even turned it on yet.”
“I told you I wasn’t very coordinated.”
“Well yeah, but I didn’t think you meant you couldn’t sit without falling off things.”
He handed her the rope and she was excruciatingly conscious of his heat as the side of him pressed down the side of her. She was sitting on the bull and he was standing on high-density foam, yet still their heads were even.
“It’s not exactly extreme bull riding standard equipment, but it’ll do. Grab hold.”
Joss tucked her hand under the rope, sitting flush with the bull’s back. “Now, grip the bull tight with your thighs.” She dutifully tensed her thighs. “Not tense. Grip. Real hard with your whole thigh.” His voice dropped, his lips pressing in closer to her ear as he murmured, “I know you know how to do that.”
A surge of heat shot from her core. Didn’t he know she was having a hard enough time sitting on the damn thing as it was without sexual innuendo messing with her equilibrium? She shot him a don’t-make-me-get-off-this-thing look but gripped.
Hard.
“Atta girl,” he whispered.
Joss gritted her teeth. “Don’t push your luck, cowboy.”
He smiled but eased back from her slightly. “Now, hold your other hand up in the air, palm flat. It’s going to provide counterbalance when this sucker starts to spin.”
She held up her hand like she’d seen on the TV. “Counterbalance. Check.”
“Right. Now when the bull dips forward you need to lean back. When it pulls up, you need to lean forward. Use your hand up there to keep you centered, okay?”
Joss nodded. “Yep. Okay. Got it.”
“Think you can last eight seconds?”
Joss was one hundred percent, absolutely, positively certain that she would not. She was even more certain that she’d break something.
Unfortunately, nerves made her mouthy.
“Eight seconds, huh? I heard you rodeo guys had a short fuse. We have pills for that now you know?”
He laughed and his lips were suddenly close to her ear again. “I can go longer than eight seconds as you well know. But even if that were true, I promise you, doc, it’d be the best eight seconds of your life.”
Great. Now all she was going to think about while a piece of machinery spun and bucked beneath her was riding Troy in exactly the same way. Was it possible to have a mechanical-bull-induced orgasm?
That would be seriously embarrassing.
Certainly more than the good folk of Plainview would have expected from an innocent night out at the Bull Bar. There were children watching for the love of Mike.
He chuckled all low and sexy at her scowl before pulling away again and announcing to the spectators, “I think she’s ready, folks.”
Joss blushed hoping like hell no one knew just how ready she was.
“Good to go?”
She nodded, squeezing her thighs harder, which unfortunately did not help with her pre-orgasmic state.
He winked at her. Actually winked. “Ride ’em, cowgirl.”