Page 22 of Toro

Moving slowly up one high ridge, he reined the graceful stallion beneath him to a halt. In the distance, Bull could see Aguascalientes. Although he’d stayed in the older part of the city, he knew it was about the size of Austin and the surrounding area. Nothing like Mexico City, which was home to over nine million, Aguascalientes was still a city of industry. There were even two Nissan factories in the area, but he could feel none of that hustle and bustle from the sanctuary of Terra Dura.

Squinting his eyes through the glare of the sun, he gazed across the landscape and up to see a form on the farthest ridge. The temperature was cooler here then he’d expected, but the sun could be just as merciless to the eyes as it was back home in Texas. “What in the world?” He urged the horse forward and they were off down a rocky embankment that Bull was grateful the animal knew well enough to navigate.

Crossing the ravine, he passed a few of the bubbling hot springs Don Luis had mentioned. They were very inviting, he found himself wishing he had something like this back at his place. His one consolation was the proximity to Canyon Lake, he did enjoy fishing on those blue Hill Country waters. Drawing closer, he saw scrubby dwarf pines growing around the edges of the small pools heated from the earth’s core and the occasional cluster of oaks appeared on the landscape. As the figure perched on top of the next ridge became clearer, Bull’s stomach clenched in amazement. This had to be the beast Juan had casually mentioned. Damn, he’d seen a lot of bulls in his time, but not many like this monster.

With every step his mount took, Bull realized Juan and the boys back at the barn were having a good old pisser right now thinking about the terror the gringo must be feeling. What they didn’t realize was that Benedict Redford made his living dealing with giant bulls. But to give them credit, the one he saw atop the next ridge was damn big.

A few years back, he’d traveled to England to see Field Marshal, a bull that weighed almost thirty-five hundred pounds. At six foot five at the shoulder, he was bigger than a mini-van. The bull in front of him, with head down and grazing in the grass, would rival that monster, no doubt.

The closer he came, the more details he could see. The flanks were pale gray and speckled, the coloring reminded him of the legendary Desperado, he even had the white blaze down his face. Bull shook his head. Yea, he’d had some alcohol, but he didn’t think his brain was that muddled. The animal almost appeared to be a mirage, it seemed to even shimmer in the light.

Finally, as Bull edged the stallion closer, he could see that the figure hadn’t moved. His horse was having absolutely no reaction to it at all, which was strange. “Well, hell.” Moving even farther up the ridge, he could see the big bull was made of stone, the most beautiful piece of stone he’d ever seen. Dismounting, he looked the piece over, it was so lifelike he could imagine it would fool most people. He’d seen artwork like this before, and sure enough, when he searched one of the hooves, there was the tell-tale signature of Aron McCoy. “Why you old son-of-a-bitch. There’s just no getting away from you, is there?”

From her spot on the ledge of a hot spring in the valley down below, Isabella looked up and shivered.

He was here.

She watched Benedict as he examined the sculpture her father had commissioned shortly before his death. The man called Bull was beautiful and he’d brought her more pleasure than she even knew existed. Should she make her presence known, or wait for him to discover her? “The statue is life-like, is it not?” Damn her impatience!

Surprised to hear someone speaking to him, Bull jerked around. For a second there, he could’ve sworn the voice belonged to Carmen. But when he looked down to the small embankment, he saw Don Luis’s sexy niece sitting on the edge of a natural pool, her dainty feet dangling in the water. “Isabella?”

She waited to answer until he drew nearer. After all, she wanted him close enough to appreciate the view. The whole point of her racing all the way out here and lounging around in her skimpiest bikini was to show Benedict that she was no immature teenager. “Uncle mentioned the hot springs and I just couldn’t help myself.” She kicked her feet in the water, stirring it up. In the process, she stretched her long, shapely legs out for him to notice.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Bull mumbled under his breath. This girl was relentless and if she had any less clothing on, she could’ve been ticketed for indecency.

“Why don’t you come join me?” She beckoned him down.

“Awwww. Sorry. Left my trunks back at home.”

Isabella stood with a wiggle. “No problem, as you Americans say. Your briefs would be just as good, I’m sure, Mr. Redford. Or maybe we could just… How do you say? Skinny-dip!”

The distance was a godsend, because there was no way Bull wanted her to see how she was affecting him. His cheeks were damn hot. God, he was blushing like a randy teenage boy. These spoiled princess types sure didn’t know how to take no for an answer. “I think I’m good. I’m just gonna admire this piece of art up here if it’s all the same to you. Turns out, I know the artist.”

“Oh, really? I’ll come join you.” She made an exaggerated production of bending over to find a towel in the tote on the ground behind her. The large beach towel was right on top, but she kept the position, giving Benedict a good, long view of her bottom.

“Yea, no doubt about it, I’m going straight to hell,” Bull muttered, running his hand over the stone bull’s horns while he looked over his shoulder and down at the feast of feminine flesh on display.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Isabella said after she’d made her way up the gentle hill. She wore a tiny white bikini that hugged her like a second skin.

“Umm. Yea, it is. Like I said, I know Aron McCoy, the sculptor.” Bull did his best to focus on the piece of stone and not the smooth, tanned body of the gorgeous young woman only a few feet away from him. There were tiny droplets of water on her skin and all Bull could think about was licking them off. What in the Sam Hell was wrong with him? How could he be so impossibly attracted to Isabella when he was interested in Carmen?

“Do you?” Isabella came around the statue, making sure to get right in Benedict’s line of sight. Her breasts were plumped to the max and she couldn’t help but smile when he looked right at them, then quickly away. “My father had it commissioned as a gift to my mother. The model of this bull was one she raised on a bottle.”

“I’m sure he was a fine animal. The statue is called Toro Roca.”

“Yes. Bull Rock.” She smiled. “How did you know?”

“The man at the barn. Juan, I think his name was, he told me watch for it. I think this bull looks a lot like Desperado.” At her quizzical expression, he explained. “He’s an unridden rodeo bull. Retired now. A neighbor of mine owns him.”

“I see. My mother’s bull was named Magi.”

“I think the nose is chipped.” Bull hunkered down to look. Isabella came to his side, letting her shoulder brush against his. He caught a whiff of her scent, fresh and clean with a hint of citrus. She smelled so good, he was tempted to take a bite. “Nope, just a speck of dirt. The statue is damn impressive, Aron did a good job.”

“The stone is Tepeaca Gris, it’s native to Mexico. My father was insistent the artist use it. I don’t recall how long it took him to make it.” She grasped one of the horns. “Probably weeks of carving, polishing, and shaping.” Bull turned his face to look at her and Isabella stroked the horn with her hand. “As you can see, the horn is solid, firm to the touch, so hard.” He looked right at her mouth, at her eager lips. Isabella was sure he was about to kiss her…but instead, he stood.

Despite his best intentions, Bull’s body was reacting to her. He tried to fight it, but everything about her was so perfect. He’d have to be dead or a saint not to notice – and by God, he wasn’t either one. The bikini, her perfume, the way she caressed the stone, all of this was designed to seduce him and he knew it. Fuck! She was off-limits, way too young, and the niece of a business associate. Forbidden fruit. Besides, there was Carmen to consider. As beautiful as she was, Isabella Cortez was off limits.

Bull used the bulk of the statue to mask the swelling in his jeans. There’d be no hiding his arousal if she were to look, he hadn’t been given the moniker of Bull for no reason. “We should probably get back.”

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