Page 10 of Eight Second Hearts

“Okay. Can you tell me what it is about Beau Rogers that brings you out here chasing him,” I add.

“What’s not to love?” Paisley asks. “He’s hot as fuck. Ever since we saw him online, we knew we had to catch a show with him.”

“And thank god we did!” Patsy adds. “The man is as hot as concrete in the middle of summer. He could ask me to do anything, and I’d do it.”

“Have the three of you had a relationship with Beau Rogers at all?” I ask.

“Unfortunately, no,” Ginny sighs. “We haven’t even gotten close. But I know someone who did. She’s a real buckle bunny, that one. But she landed Beau Rogers, so it paid off, I guess. Said it was the best she ever had.”

I furrow my brows. “Buckle bunny?”

“Yeah,” Paisley nods. “Women who chase the cowboys on a rodeo circuit. It used to be a negative thing, but I think everyone is trying to claim the power back over it.”

“That makes sense. Do The Crimson Three often sleep with their fans?”

Patsy snorts. “No. Only Beau. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone sleeping with the other two. As far as I know, Ramiro and Tripp keep things professional.”

“Thank you, ladies. I’ll send you an email once the article goes live if I use your photos,” I tell them with a smile.

Paisley beams. “Absolutely. Let us know if you need anything else.”

“If any of you manage to snag Beau Rogers, feel free to reach out to me,” I say with a grin. “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

They giggle and high five me before heading back to the stands. I’ve never been the type of girl to have other girlfriends. My childhood was spent keeping the family afloat after a while and friends don’t tend to stick around for that. I made some close friends while overseas, but many of those were guys. I often wonder how much I’m missing out on by not having any girlfriends I can call to vent to or ask for advice.

As Paisley, Patsy, and Ginny scream and cheer up in the stands, I wish I had that sort of companionship, but I don’t dwell on it for too long.

I’ve got a story to get.

When the event is done and the journalists all stand outside the chute, I don’t scream questions at them as they walk out like the rest of them. I just stand and watch as the Crimson Three leaves together, their eyes scanning the group. Ramiro meets my eyes curiously as I stand and watch them, clearly wondering why I’m not trying to ask questions, but I just dip my chin gently. He tips his cowboy hat to me in a way that makes my heart skip a beat and continues on.

Damn. I guess I can understand the buckle bunnies a little, after all.

Chapter 7

Indie

Another night at the shitty motel has my hip starting to pinch when I walk. I try my best to hide it throughout the day, but spending the day on my feet and my night sleeping on the concrete slab of a mattress do me no favors. At least I’m still standing up straight right now. I pop a pain pill and get back to my job. Maybe tonight, I’ll take a trip to buy some extra pillows from the store. The least I can do is make the bed a little more comfortable. On the next circuit, maybe I’ll try and find something with a bit better mattress. Maybe. The cost may be prohibitive if I have to buy another flight.

There isn’t anything new at the rodeo events for the day. Both Ramiro and Tripp qualify unsurprisingly for the next round of their sport and barely do more than their job. Beau spends a good portion of his time on the dirt, dancing with the bulls and the horses. Hell, at one point, I watch him tackle a cowboy to get him out of harm’s way. The crowd cheers for that and I manage to snap a few pictures of it. The crowd loses their shit when he pops a blue handprint on the cowboy’s ass, much to the cowboy’s annoyance.

But as it is, there isn’t much opportunity to try and hound The Crimson Three for an interview. So, I do what all journalists do best.

I stalk them.

I know how it sounds. I probably shouldn’t be following them around like a lost puppy, but they make it so fucking easy when they end up going to a steakhouse right across the street from the fairgrounds called Joe Lee’s. The place is packed and overflowing, but when I walk in, they still have plenty of tables available. I wait until the men are seated at a table in the corner before I request to sit at a table a few spots over where I can still see them, but blend into the crowd. The buzz of the restaurant is too loud to hear what they talk about, but I try my best to read their lips from behind my menu.

Beau Rogers isn’t wearing his clown makeup here and he looks almost. . .normal. It’s strange to see his face so clean. I can finally see how chiseled his jaw is and how nice his face is in general. All three men have their hats hanging on the hooks against the wall, as if this place was designed for cowboys. Tripp is the most conventionally attractive of the three, but his perpetual frown detracts from his attractiveness, and yet also somehow adds to it. He doesn’t look around the restaurant. He just stares into the pint glass the waitress brings and sets on the table. Ramiro talks to the two of them, his gentle scruff and black hair defining him as tall, dark, and handsome. He glances my way, and I jerk the menu up to cover my face, hoping he doesn’t notice me.

The waitress comes over and asks me what I’d like to drink. She’s sweating and looks exhausted, so I know I’ll leave her a good tip. She’s probably been on her feet all day.

“What can I get ya, darlin’?” she asks, her notepad ready.

“Sweet tea, please,” I tell her. “Extra ice.”

“You got it.”

She turns to go grab the drink and I sigh, letting down my menu. I nearly shit myself to find Ramiro Mondragon somehow sitting on the opposite side of the table from me. I jerk against the table, making everything on top of it rattle and the tables around us look over curiously at the sound.

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