“You should grab a shower now,” I say as I accept the glass from him. “You did the most work, and you’re last to shower. Doesn’t seem fair.”
“My girls get taken care of first,” he replies and kisses my lips softly. “Always. But I’ll go do that and meet you back here.”
“Deal.” I grin, watching him walk away. The man fills out those Ranchersperfectly.And it’s not lost on me that he has a bit of a limp and looks like he’s sore.
All of his injuries play through my mind. Of course, he’s sore. He has to ache more than he lets on, especially after a physically grueling day like today.
Hopefully, that hot shower feels good and helps soothe his poor body.
I grab a few ibuprofen and pour a couple fingers of whiskey and then settle on the couch with my computer.
Now that I know there are videos on YouTube, I can’t wait to watch them.
I go ahead and open the browser, search his name, and gasp at the hundreds of videos that pop up.
Brady Wild Wins Second World Championship.
Brady Wild: an Extensive Interview with the Montana Bull-Riding Legend.
Brady Wild: What’s Inside My Gear Bag?
Dave Fisby Talks to Brady Wild about His Near-Fatal Accident.
I swallow hard at that one.
A Look Into the Life of a Real Rodeo Cowboy: Brady Wild.
The list goes on and on. Interviews, a day in the life, and so many rides caught on film.
I could go down this rabbit hole fordaysand never see everything. But something at the bottom of the page catches my eye.
Death of Dirks Johnson, an Intimate Interview with Brady Wild.
Tears fill my eyes, and I can feel Brady move up behind me and lay his hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t watch that one tonight,” he says softly before leaning down to kiss the top of my head. “Not until after the season is over. Okay?”
“Okay.” I sip my wine and gaze up at him as he circles around the couch and sits next to me. “I have ibuprofen and whiskey for you. Which do you want first?”
“Both.” He pops the meds into his mouth and then swallows it down with the whiskey, making me cringe.
“I’m sure your body is grateful for that.”
“It is,” he says, laughing at my sarcasm. “I checked on Daisy. She’s snoring.”
I chuckle at that and reach up to push my fingers through his wet, dark hair. “She does that when she’s overly tired. How long into the story did she last?”
“Roughly half a page.” He grins down at me. His hazel eyes are heavy with fatigue.
“Do you get to sleep in tomorrow, or do you have to be at the ranch early?” I ask him.
“There aren’t many days off with ranch life,” he replies with a sigh. “Besides, I’ll be gone for a while, and the guys will have to pick up my slack, so I’ll be out there most of tomorrow, starting early.”
“I’m sorry.”
He scowls down at me. “Why the hell are you sorry?”
“Because you have to drive so far to get there every day. We’ll have to figure something else out. Although, I’m not kicking you out of my bed, so staying apart isn’t one of the options.”