Chapter Ten
Austin kept a loose hold of Kristen’s fingers when he finally led her out of the hotel suite where the American Extreme Bull Riders meet and greet was still in full swing. They’d done the social thing—met sponsors and deep-pocketed fans. Answered questions, drank good liquor. And for the entire hour and a half that they were there, all Austin could think about was getting Kristen back to the hotel room.
He would let her lead this relationship, because she had the most at stake. If they got back to the room and she decided that another sexually charged romp was not what she was looking for, he could deal. But on the other hand, if she wanted a lot of good sex with a guy she could trust, he was her man.
From the way she wrapped herself around him as soon as the hotel room door closed behind them, he deduced that she hadn’t changed her mind.
And he was damned glad of it.
This time when they made love, it was hard and fast. A sprint to the finish, ending in a satisfying tie.
He waited until they caught their breath before asking, “What are your plans for the future?” He brushed a lazy finger down the side of her face. “Because I know you have a plan.”
She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “My plan is to make a plan.”
“So nothing definite.”
“Which isn’t easy for me.” She rolled onto her side. “I’ve always had a direction, an immediate goal, a long-term goal. They built one on top of the other and it was all so damned smooth.”
“You’d never considered the possibility of being laid off?”
“Call me naïve, but no. I’d worked hard and expected to be rewarded. And then I wasn’t, so now I have to figure out how to get back on track.”
“Do you want to get back onto the same track?” he asked slowly.
“What do you mean?”
He dropped an arm over her, pulling her closer. “I mean that the plan you made for your life when you were sixteen, or eighteen, or twenty might not be right for you now. Sometimes you have to change.”
She angled her head so she could see him better. “I could say the same thing to you.”
She had a point. He’d been following the same vision since high school. “My plan is still working.”
“But for how long?”
“Until I stop winning enough money to stay on the tour…or until I incur a debilitating injury.”
Her muscles tightened beneath his palm. “That’s crazy.”
“That’s bull riding.”
“You have no intention of quitting while you’re ahead?”
“What’s the point of being ahead, if you’re going to quit?”
“Having the use of all your many body parts?”
“I can’t quit, Kristen.”
She rolled onto her side, cupping her palm against his cheek. “Why?”
“Hard to explain.”
“Try?”
“Bull riding is…” How could he articulate the deep need to do the impossible? To challenge and be challenged? He let out a breath. “Give me a little time on this.”
“If you come up with an answer, let me know. Because I’m beyond curious.” She stroked her hand along his side, down to the hollow of his hip, where it came to rest.
“Don’t be disappointed if you never get the answer, because some things can’t be put into words.”
She bit her lip, as if fighting a smile. “I’m aware.”
He slid his hand over her gorgeous ass, pulling her that much closer as his dick started to swell. “Are you?”
A nip on his lip answered his question. Communication without words. His favorite kind. He rolled her over, found her lips and lost himself in a slow exploration of her mouth as his fingers zeroed in on her warm, wet center.
She pressed against his hand as his finger slipped inside of her, and all thoughts of explaining his love of bull riding evaporated from his brain.
*
Kristen could sum up the focus of her life in her Salt Lake City hotel room in three simple words: sex with Austin.
And if she wanted to expand her summary to four words, it would be: more sex with Austin.
She was pleasantly tired and a little sore and beyond satisfied with her breaking free adventure—but now that she was seated in the VIP section of the American Extreme Bull Riders venue, waiting for smoke and fire to announce the beginning of the performance, reality was starting to filter its way into her insular break-free world. She was going home tomorrow. Back to real life and all its complications.
Living a freeform life, drifting, sounded like fun, but it wasn’t realistic to someone like her who didn’t have a lot of money in the bank. Who didn’t ride bulls for a living.
Austin wouldn’t be able to ride bulls forever.
And he didn’t know what he wanted to do when his career was over. Kristen smiled a little. That should bother her more than it did, because he was not being sensible, but Austin seemed to have a way of landing on his feet. And he was as driven as she was. He’d figure something out.
The house lights dimmed and the music started, pounding out a primitive beat, energizing the audience as the bull riders strode through the smoke and took their places along the flaming line. Austin was facing away from her, feet spread, hands on his buckle in a classic bull rider stance. She now recognized names from the party where she’d met the other riders—Casey, Cody, Gage. When Austin’s name was called, she felt a well of pride and possessiveness. Her bull rider.
The music hit a crescendo as the bull riders started back toward the chutes. Austin looked her way as he followed T.J. Casey out of the arena, and even though she was certain he couldn’t actually see her, he touched the brim of his hat before disappearing through the gate next to the chutes.
She came close to lifting her hand in response. And it was suddenly kind of scary to feel this connected to a guy whom, logic told her, could only be a fleeting part of her life.
The price of breaking free, having her adventure.
She could deal with the situation—it just might not be as easy as she’d first assumed.
*
There was nothing better than being on top of the game, and that was exactly how Austin felt as he straddled the rails over Prime Time. He set a foot on the bull’s back, letting him know that the routine had begun. Prime Time barely acknowledged him as he then settled in place near the flank strap and started working the rope.
Two wins in a row. That was the goal. Prime Time was an unpredictable bucker, changing up his modus operandi each time he came out of the chute, but Austin was okay with that. He had a talent for reading subtle cues, noting the tells.
He did a quick prep, wanting to get on with the ride. Once the tail of the rope was folded into place, he tucked his chin, patted the rail and nodded. The next thing he knew he and three-quarter tons of bull were high in the air just outside of the chute.
Prime Time’s front legs pounded back down to earth. Seven seconds left.
The subtle roll of muscle under his left thigh and the spin began, into his hand.
Six…Five…Four…
His chest jerked and his shoulders snapped back as the spin abruptly ended and Prime Time changed directions with a twisting ass over ears maneuver that caught him off guard, pulled him away from his hand.
Shit.
Muscles burning, he pushed deep into his feet, fought like hell to keep from going down, but gravity had a mad hold on him.
Three…Two…
He struggled, teeth gritted, sheer determination keeping him in contact with the bull as about a thousand G’s pulled on his wrist—
The horn blew as he felt the air between his ass and the bull.
The earth met him in a teeth-jarring crash. Dirt stung his face, and then his entire upper body lifted as the bull stepped on his calf, his hoof sliding off his boot. His face hit the dirt again as pain seared through his lower leg.
Son of a bitch.
He squeezed his eyes shut, the dirt in his lashes stinging his eyes. There was a thud next to him, not loud enough to be the bull, and he raised his head to see the bull fighter peering down at him. Immediately he started pushing up to his feet. A hand slid under his arm and he made it all the way up to vertical.
One limping step and the crowd roared. The score came over the loudspeaker, but he didn’t catch it. Eighty something. Enough for the finals?
Another step and his leg felt as if it was going to explode right then and there.
He wouldn’t give in to the pain. Another step. Another.
Out the gate and on past the guys who clapped him on the shoulder, toward the medical room at the other end of the long concrete hallway. A medic who’d been at the chutes caught up with him, put a hand under his elbow, helping ease the burden on his sore leg.
“How bad?”
“You tell me. I just hope you don’t have to cut the boot off. It’s new.”
*
So this was what it felt like to have one’s stomach turned inside out—and have it stay that way.
Austin had walked out of the arena after the bull had trod on his leg, but it had been all Kristen had been able to do to stay in her seat during the remainder of the event. She’d tried to bluff her way to the contestants’ area, only to be stopped by security, who were taxed with the job of keeping the groupies at bay until the bull riders appeared to sign autographs. She went back to her seat not knowing whether Austin was behind the chutes supporting his friends, or if he was in an ambulance, heading for the nearest medical center.
This is what he does. This is what all these guys do.
And, judging by Braden Crawford, it was devastating to them when they could no longer ride bulls competitively. A different breed, these bull riders. She couldn’t imagine embracing the unknown on a weekly basis, taking a chance at ending her career each and every time she went to work.
Kind of made getting laid off look boring.
After the performance ended and Kelly Kincaid, a bull rider who had just made his way up from the minors into the American Extreme Bull Riders Tour, was named the winner, Kristen headed for the exit where she was supposed to meet Austin. This time the security pass worked and she made her way along a concrete corridor. Austin came out of a set of metal double doors as she approached, dressed in gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, his leg strapped into a protective boot.
“Precautionary,” he told her. “To stabilize it until I get to the hotel.”
“Then you can take it off?”
“I’m going to.” He gave her a smile that didn’t quite hit his eyes. “How’re you doing?”
“Me?” He was asking about her after he’d been stomped on by a bull?
“Yeah.”
Her first instinct was to put on her cool unperturbed face and pretend she was doing just fine with his near-death experience. Her second was to tell him that it had scared the crap out of her. She chose the middle ground. “Working my way through it.”
“I can’t drive. They gave me a painkiller. It’s starting to take hold.”
Kristen took the keys from him, and then reached for the bag he was carrying.
“I’m not helpless.”
“Do you have to do the autograph thing?” Kristen asked as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Not while I’m under the influence.”
“Let’s go home.” A bittersweet feeling settled over her as they walked to the parking lot. After tonight, there was no more ‘home’ for the two of them. Home was a pretend place. A hotel room where they could hide from the world and real life.
She was going to miss it. Miss him.
How had she come to feel a deep connection to this guy with whom she had so little in common?
Opposites attract.
Yes, but attraction wasn’t the problem. It never had been. It was living at opposite ends of the personal and professional risk spectrums that created issues…but after tonight, she wondered if she was as far on the safe end of the spectrum as she’d once believed. It had terrified her to see Austin get hurt, but while sitting next to the other bull riders’ families, she’d heard equal parts analysis, cheering and praying. They’d worked out a system to handle the stress, and if she needed to, so could she—and it didn’t need to apply only to bull riding.
*
Kristen navigated the post-event traffic like a pro and got them back to the hotel, where they surrendered the truck to a valet. Austin beat Kristen to his bag and stubbornly hefted it out of the back seat before opening the door and stepping out onto the asphalt with his good leg. Pain shot through him as his left leg hit the ground, but he could bear weight, which was a good sign. The doc hadn’t been able to tell him much, and he’d been ordered to get an X-ray in Marietta to see exactly what the damage was.
Austin wasn’t keen to do that. Didn’t want a potential fracture to get in the way of finishing the season. If he could walk…well, he was okay.
Kristen was all business as she ushered him to the room, and even though the pain meds were making him foggy, he found it a turn-on. He did love it when his ice princess showed up. She unlocked the door and stepped back so that he could enter first. Once the door was closed, she eased past him to place his bag on the desk and to drop her purse beside it.
He sat on the edge of the bed and started unfastening the pseudo-cast on his injured leg while Kristen disappeared into the bathroom. She came out a short time later wearing the T-shirt and plaid shorts that had been her sleep outfit until two nights ago.
He’d call that a signal. She flipped back the covers of her bed and sat on the edge.
“Need any help with anything?”
“Yeah. My boot.” As in singular.
“Sure.” She came to the side of the bed where he sat and gingerly eased the orphaned Tony Lama off his foot. “What happened to the other one?”
“Cut down the side and sitting in the trash can at the arena.”
“That’s too bad.” She helped him peel off the sock then grimaced and he took a look. Yep. Black as hell.
“Is it broken?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What about your ankle?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?”
He gave her a look. “The problem seems to be the place where the bull stepped on my leg.”
He sounded snarky, so he drew in a breath. Closed his eyes and tried to center. This was why he was no fan of pain meds. They made him cranky. Edgy. Obnoxious. Not his normal state of being. When he opened his eyes again, he found Kristen smiling at him, as if she knew exactly what was going on with him. She shook her head and went back to her bed.
As soon as he’d stripped to his boxers, he got into bed, then decided what the hell. He liked sleeping commando, and just because Kristen was back in pajamas, it didn’t mean he had to follow suit. He got his shorts down over his injured leg, kicked them to the end of the bed, then settled in.
And there he lay.
He had two weeks to get back into fighting shape before the tour started again in Portland. If he had to be injured, this was the time. Yes, it was.
He might not make it to the exhibition he’d agreed to in Pendleton, Oregon, during the hiatus, but he would make Portland, Spokane, Nampa… He’d make all the events right up to Championships. He’d ridden with worse injuries, but the problem was that compensating for one injury could lead to another.
So be it.
Part of the game.
He shifted his hips, tried to get more comfortable.
“Shouldn’t you elevate that foot?” Kristen’s voice came through the darkness.
“Probably.” Definitely. Why hadn’t he done that?
Foggy brain.
“Kris?”
“What?”
“Why are you over there?”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, saw that she was propped up on one elbow, staring at him through the semi-darkness. “So I don’t hurt you.” She spoke as if it were patently obvious why she was a good six feet away from where he wanted her to be.
He closed his eyes, drew in a breath. “I think you should come over here and risk hurting me.”
“Austin…”
“It’ll help me sleep.”
She didn’t answer, but a long moment later, he heard her push back the covers and get out of her bed. “I’m keeping my T-shirt and shorts on.”
“Fine.”
“And elevating your foot.”
“I’d appreciate that.” He rolled onto his back.
She retrieved a sofa cushion and pulled back the sheet to gently settle his foot on it. Then she got into bed and settled about two feet away from him. He reached out to pull her closer to him.
“Just don’t jar anything and I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know how bull riders’ wives handle this,” she murmured as she snuggled closer to him. She curved her hands over his shoulder, one on top of the other, and settled her head on his pillow. Their lower bodies were separated by several inches.
“I guess they adapt to circumstances.”
“Guess so.” Her breath feathered over him as she spoke and even through the pain meds had half-numbed him, it felt good. “I’m afraid to move,” she said.
“I like having you here. It’s our last night… I didn’t want to spend it alone.