Chapter Two
Urban entered the bull pens and worked his bottom lip in thought. On his second bull ride of the event, his body was refusing to function appropriately. He probably needed x-rays to be sure, but the grinding feeling in his wrist warned him he could have broken it. Again. This would be the second time in a year. Thirty-four wasn’t old, but in the rodeo circuit, aging was more like dog years and he was considered seasoned for the sport. No surprise that fresher cowboys were riding. Not only were they younger, but they had more energy and had all the time in the world to dedicate to busting their balls on the backs of lethal weapons. Here lately, Urban was cherishing his gonads a bit more, careful how he abused them and what woman was touching them. His bed hadn’t been warmed in a year, although just that afternoon he was offered a blow job by a sexy buckle bunny. He’d walked away. He could very well be a loser, but he’d rather believe things were changing.
The pain he felt now was nothing compared to some of the other injuries he’d suffered. After more than ten years of riding bulls he’d experienced enough dirt baths and slams that he could almost diagnose his own broken bones and sprains. Last year he’d suffered a concussion, the second to be exact, and he’d weighed the possibility of not returning, but he’d climbed back into the saddle, more resilient than ever—maybe.
The injured wrist wouldn’t keep him from riding, but here lately, Urban was starting to think a lot about his future and what if he suffered a broken neck or back, or worse, was killed. He’d miss out on a lot of the things he wanted, things he should experience. Since his brothers, Weston, Roman, and Penn, had gotten married, it was only natural that Urban would feel a bit of envy, not that he was ready for marriage, and definitely not kids. He was just thinking…that was all. Retiring was for the best.
He wanted a ride to remember, so although he had a bum wrist, he wanted the rowdiest bull because they always made for a better show, and points. Stranger Danger could be considered one of those particular bulls, known for bruising up many cowboys’ faces. There was also Tower, who wouldn’t be too bad to draw. The bull was as strong as a rocket, and almost as fast as one too. Very seldom did cowboys stay on his back for the buzzer, yet as far as a good show, it wouldn’t happen with Tower. He was a monster in the pen and usually took down a rider too soon. No matter. Urban needed to keep his eye on the prize and that meant staying seated for the eight-second ride. The payoff was huge and the only cowboy Urban had to worry about this evening was Chance Grimes. The two had been neck-and-neck for the last few years and knowing the other man could walk away with the prize today only motivated Urban more.
Looking out over the row of chutes, Urban took in the sight as his adrenaline spiked, as it always did right before a ride. This could very well be his last ride, that is if he won today. The money would give him a nice nest egg and he’d feel comfortable bidding sayonara to his career in the circuit and dedicate himself to the ranch and the security company, SCS. The life of a rodeo star had become less important to him.
The end was bittersweet.
Once upon a time, he and his brothers were notorious bull riders. Not only were they the cowboys to beat, they also had the buckle bunnies, any one they wanted, but as he’d heard would happen, and learned by experience, all the stardom loses its brilliancy and all the beautiful babes that followed him around had lost his interest.
What shocked him was the rise in his body for Presley Dean, a.k.a Ice Queen. Presley of all people. Pfft. It was almost laughable. She’d done nothing but rake him over the coals since they were kids. Sure, he’d snipped off her braid, but her hair had grown back and it was prettier than ever. And long. Shiny. Thick.
His dick twitched.
Hell, he’d been a hellion as a kid and that was too many years ago to still let it live in her gut. Although, thinking back, he couldn’t forget how she’d started sobbing as she held her chopped off braid in her tiny palm. He’d felt like a shithead, but before he could mutter an apology, her tears had dried up and she had drawn her fist back wide, then nailed him hard in the jaw. He could only respect a girl that could punch harder than most boys. He’d even puttered around with a crush on her for a while, thinking he’d ask her out, only Hugh swept in and started dating her in high school. Urban had no clue what broke the two up.
Lately, he hadn’t been himself and that’s what he chalked his hard on up to. It could have been any woman that caused a rise. The lack of sex these days made him a dangerous, and loaded, gun. However, he had more worries right now than what lived below his buckle. He needed to win. He needed something more…
This life was getting to him. The pungent scent of straw and dust were no longer an aphrodisiac to his nostrils. Standing in the waiting pen among the buffest, toughest cowboys in Texas didn’t make Urban as proud as it once did back when he had more energy in his step. Looking among one guy to the next, he could only see the young ones—the boys that still had a glint in their eye and fear written in their expressions. Fear was good—kept a man on his toes, but again, they saw themselves as superhuman. Their youthful bodies could take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’. They didn’t realize they were always one ride away from a fatal injury. Urban sure did. His body definitely did. It was time he figured out where his path would lead.
Seeing a circle of cowboys chattering and laughing, curious, Urban sauntered up, parting a path through the men and was greeted with respectful nods and handshakes, except for Grimes who scowled. The champion rider was the man to beat and the smirk on his face told a story that he was worried, although he’d probably never admit it, not that Urban would either.
Grimes gave Urban a short nod. “Good to see you.” Nothing in the man’s tone told Urban it was a sincere reception.
The man just couldn’t get over the fact that his new wife, Amber, and Urban had been an item at one time.
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Urban replied.
“Maybe you should have saved yourself some embarrassment,” Grimes stated with a cocky grin. A few of the men chortled. This kind of egging wasn’t uncommon among the riders.
Urban refused to allow the smugness of the other man to detour his focus, which he needed more than ever with a hurt wrist.
“Hey, Jericho. You plan on signing up too?” One of the younger men asked.
“For what?” The cowboy handed Urban a flyer, but before he could read it, another man piped up.
“Some production company is looking for a rodeo star and his girl to do a documentary. Something about how relationships can work in the circuit. You know that pretty face would grab all the hearts of America. Not to mention, they’re offering a check. Big one.”
“He can’t. They’re looking for a cowboy who’s hitched.” Grimes laughed. “They don’t count buckle bunnies.”
Urban smirked, knowing Grimes was just jerking his chain. “I’m not sure how you talked a woman into marrying your ugly mug.” Although Grimes had a crooked nose from being broken so many times and a deep scar on his cheek, he still had the looks that women liked. Urban knew the man liked being in the spotlight and would sell his soul to be on the cover of anything and everything.
“Spoken like a true jealous man. I bet you wish you had this mug.” Grimes smoothed his hand down his cheek.
Several remarks passed through Urban’s head, one involving Grimes’ wife, but he wasn’t going to disrespect Amber. “I don’t have time for this, ladies.” Urban drew his hat down lower, shading his eyes. “I have a bull to ride.” He folded up the paper that had been shoved his way and pushed it into his back pocket. He started for the chute and found his buddy, Pete Parsons, resting his elbows on the top rail.
“Hey there, partner. Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Glad to see you made the final rounds.” Parson’s thumped him on the back. “You going to beat that smug ass Grimes, right?” He shot a glance to the mentioned cowboy. “The guy can be alright when he isn’t showing off for his buddies.”
“He likes to blow his own horn. You’ll get that sometimes. Maybe he has his reasons. He’s ahead in points.”
“How’s the wrist?”
“Fucked up,” he muttered. “Reminding me I’m old compared to some of these kids out here.”
“Times are changing, aren’t they? The pot is pretty hefty, buddy, nearly two hundred grand, which makes us all a bit beastly. What I wouldn’t give to win it. Hell, I’d retire.” The other man, a few years older than Urban, laughed. “Not going to happen this time though.”
Urban shrugged. “I’m thinking about the same, Pete. I’ve been saving up and that pot would be all that I need to retire comfortably. Maybe even add onto my house.”
“You? Retire? Damn, boy. You must have really hurt yourself. At least you have something to fall back on with the ranch and security business. I have to ride this job out for as long as possible.”
“I can handle it, but it’s a bitch. Especially when I can’t hold on worth a fuck.” He shook his head in agitation. “Ribs ain’t worth a damn either. Last bull almost had me.”
“Maybe you’ll luck out and get one of the gentler rides.”
“And how will that help? That’ll only ensure Grimes will get those damn points. I don’t know what’s worse. Losing to a man like Grimes, or losing that much money.”
The intercom whined, then the announcer declared that the start of the preshow was beginning which was the signal for all riders to be in the holding area and ready. The bullfighters and acrobat riders put on their welcoming show, then fireworks were set off. The crowd erupted into applause.
“Hey, Urban.”
He looked around to see who was calling, and leaning over the top rail of the holding pen was a beautiful brunette whose smile, and double Ds spilling out of her low-cut blouse, had a handful of men staring. She waved and he tipped his hat.
“Good luck. Come on by the barbecue shack later and I’ll give you ribs for free.” She winked. “And dessert too.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He liked ribs, but after he was finished with his ride he had every intention of going home and resting his body.
Pete whistled through his teeth. “If you ain’t one lucky sum’bitch.”
“If you say so. Gotta go, buddy. I need to wrap my wrist before I climb atop the bull. Best of luck.”
“You too, man. Hope to see you before I leave.”
On his way to the stand where the medic was tending to last minute wraps and injuries, Urban passed a group of cowgirls who whistled at him. Sure, they were beauties too with their high-assed shorts, but why did an image of a red-head with spell bounding hazel eyes come to mind? Fuck! Bad path to be on because it led to a dead end.
“Hey, Urban. Want to catch up later?” a pretty blonde with a sash that read “Rodeo Babe” asked.
He smiled. “Sorry. I’ll be resting these old bones.” There was a time he would have jumped at the chance to spend some time with the beauty, knowing it would only be a good time with no strings attached. Buckle bunnies never expected anything but a good time. Why didn’t that entice him now? After all, it had been nearly a year since he’d been with a woman and, for a man with a lethal libido, that was like centuries.
For now, he needed to stay focused and hopefully get through this ride by the skin of his teeth, or his balls. Probably both.
*****
Presley’s first thought when she saw him was how warm his hands had felt on her when he saved her from falling. Second thought, he’d been turned on. The evidence had pressed against her backside. Even now, her heart hitched and her belly clenched. Along with a heated throbbing between her legs.
Still reeling from what transpired between she and Urban at the stables was mixing with the adrenaline rush from watching the pre-show, making it almost impossible for her to stand still in her position at the fence. She was glad she could watch a bit before she headed over to the auction.
Unwrapping a piece of taffy, she popped the cherry-flavored candy into her mouth and licked her fingers, realizing she was being stared at by a fellow across the arena. He dipped his hat and she smiled. Every man she saw was a potential husband, but he wasn’t her type. She liked her cowboys tall, dark, and handsome…just like Urban. Grrr. She needed to crawl inside her brain and scrub out all thoughts of him.
Chewing, she saw the familiar white Stetson and the taffy slid down her throat, causing her to erupt into a coughing fit which grabbed several bystanders’ attention. Once under control, she watched Urban saunter boldly toward the chute and her gaze naturally meandered down his broad shoulders that stretched the checked blue button down, to the large silver buckle that glinted the sun’s rays, even further to his long, denim-clad legs and the toes of his dusty, worn boots. Without realizing it, she smiled until her cheeks ached. She’d deny that she wanted to see him, but it was a waste of time, making her very confused. For years, she’d never liked the youngest cocky Jericho. In fact, she’d made it clear how much she disliked him each and every time she saw him. It seemed like he second-guessed her suggestions and ideas when it came to the livestock—her new process for rearing healthier, happier cattle, and a more humane process to inoculations and breeding. If she happened to run into him at the local bar, he’d make it his goal to stare at her from across the room, but never approached her. And at the stable when he’d eavesdropped on her conversation with Cheryl, he’d showed off that shit-eating, dimple bracketed smile like it was a weapon…and she hadn’t been immune. Damn irresistible cowboy! All the Jericho boys were sexier than a Greek God and had charm that made women blush from roots to toes. Up until recently, she’d been the one-percent who had resisted the allure. Minus the few short months when she’d dated Hugh back in high school. Fortunately, they were still friends. She considered all the Jericho men friends.
And then there was Urban…
He was wearing a pair of faded jeans, but they were sharp and crisp. His face was clean shaven, but spots of his jaw had hints of a layer of whiskers. The tips of his dark hair were visible from under the hat and the dark mass always looked finger combed. His blue eyes—a common Jericho trait—were usually warm and twinkly, intensified by his smile, but right now they were brooding as he stood close to the chute. There was a calm power and confidence that exuded from him. Although she didn’t know him well, she did know that out of all the brothers, he was the most free-spirited, happy-go-lucky Jericho. She barely saw him without a smile, except before a ride when he was serious.
Looking at him, she was overcome with many emotions, both emotional and physical. Her knees were weak, but at the same time an energy rushed through her. Body parts were tingly and aware.
Her father’s words, “What about those Jericho cowboys?” as options for marriage echoed through her mind. She laughed and the thin wiry cowboy standing next to her gave her a side glance. The whole idea of marriage, especially to own the business and land that should be hers, was ludicrous. And marrying a Jericho? Pfft. Now that there were only two left made it even funnier, although what was happening in her body wasn’t so funny. She felt a display of fireworks right in the center of her core.
For theory’s sake, if she had to marry a man, he’d have to be strong and masculine. Someone who worked hard. A man who loved ranch life and animals, big and small, as much as she did. In a perfect world, she’d want to fall in love and then get married, but if she hadn’t yet in her thirty-four years, what were the chances that she would in the next six months? Her dad was right. She’d blocked off every and any chance of having a relationship.
So, on the flip-side, marrying a man for gain was her best bet. A man she didn’t have any feelings for so when she had the clinic, they could divorce without any sadness or broken hearts.
Unfortunately, what man would want to consider a marriage of circumstance?
The first rider was a cowboy by the name of Jake Hope riding the bull Havier. Urban watched from nearby, standing on the bottom rail of the fence and leaning over the top rail. The bull’s power was obvious the millisecond he burst from the gate. He exploded across the dirt arena, pounding the earth and knocking the cowboy left to right until it was over before it really began. The bullfighters rushed in and saved the cowboy from any eventful injury.
Two more riders took to the pen and each story ended the same. They didn’t make the eight seconds. Looked like the bulls were winning.
The tension was high among the crowd when popular rider, Chance Grimes, took his place on the bull, Stranger Danger, the rankest bull. He could practically shoot fire from his flaring nostrils. Presley guessed Urban had hoped for the beast, but that meant he would have Tower, also a champion bull.
As the chute opened, it wasn’t the bull who had Presley’s attention. Her gaze was hooked on Urban who was climbing onto the back of his bull and preparing. Tower didn’t waste any time. He kicked the enclosure, snorted and looked like he couldn’t wait to explode from the chute. She couldn’t read Urban’s expression because his hat was pulled low, but his jaw was tight. Seeing the bright green wrap on his wrist made her stomach turn. He was injured and didn’t have use of his prominent hand. Why was he still riding? Silly question. She’d never known a Jericho to walk away from a challenge.
The buzzer sounded. Chance was still on the bull and by his victory smile he believed he had the win wrapped up. Presley found herself rooting for Urban.
The crowd cheered as Urban settled deeper onto the bull’s back who was snorting and pounding his hoof impatiently. Urban tilted his head and she could see his bicep bulging underneath the sleeve of his shirt. His thick thighs flanked the bull’s sides. Urban raised his hand above his head and the gate flew open. As warned by the bull’s behavior in the chute, he shot out of the metal confines like a bullet from a gun, bucking wildly.
Urban sat atop the beast like a warrior, his frame tight and his arm still lifted high. Tower tried every shift, every angle, to unseat Urban without success. Seconds past at the pace of centuries. Presley found that she was holding her breath watching in anticipation while the crowd stayed quiet.
The snorting, raging bull knew time was close and with one last ditch effort, he pawed the dirt then took off at full speed, ramming the enclosure. But still, miraculously, Urban held on. His hat had shifted and he looked pale, his lips were in a thin line.
Tower propelled from his front hooves to back, thrashing Urban around its back. And then he crashed into the gate, the pounding reverberated around the arena. Oohs and ahhs sounded from the crowd. Urban had popped up a good two feet off Tower’s back and his expression turned weighty. He went up in the air again only to come down hard just as the bull whipped into a spin, sending Urban plunging to the ground a breath before the buzzer sounded.
The bullfighters hit the dirt running, moving in fast, waving wildly to gain the attention of the mad bull. Presley bit into her bottom lip, clutching the rail for dear life. Get up, Urban. Get up! Her brain cried out in fear. Urban was holding his ribs. He was hurt.
The bull saw his chance and dragged his wide hoof across the dirt as if marking his line. He took off running, straight toward Urban who was pushing himself upward.
He was off the ground, but not moving fast enough. He was limping as he struggled for the gate. Massive hooves pulverized the earth, the bull huffing and puffing. Just as Urban dragged himself over the rail and into safety, Tower gracefully swerved and ran into the open gate as if he understood the enormity of what he’d accomplished. It was then that Presley could breathe again.