Page 29 of Eight Second Hearts

“No interview, remember?” he asks. “Now come help me stretch my arm since you’re here.”

I follow him without complaint, my eyes catching on the flash of the silver flask I get when he turns around. Not that I’m looking at his ass. . .

Okay. Maybe I’m looking at his ass.

Cowboy jeans are just cowboy lingerie.

Chapter 20

Indie

Idecide it’s better to spend the day in the stands like I’m part of the crowd rather than standing in the press box with the rest of the gossipers. Plenty of eyes cut my way as I bypass the area and instead climb the stands to sit and watch the rodeo. From further up, it gives me a better vantage point to see the contestants, and also to feel the atmosphere created. Nothing quite prepares me for the women I find myself in the middle of.

Decked out in clothing with blue handprints all of them, the four women are clearly here to have a good time while watching one person. And when Beau Rogers gets out on the dirt, they lose their senses entirely.

“We love you, Beau Rogers!”

“Forget the rodeo! Come lasso my heart, Beau!”

“Don’t handle bulls! Handle me!”

I can’t help laughing along with the women as they try their best to gain Beau’s attention. I cheer right along with them, their excitement infectious. It isn’t until Beau gets out on the dirt for his tricks that he realizes where I am. Up until that point, he’d been looking for me in the press box.

I realize the moment he notices me. He’s laughing as he dodges the bull, as he leapfrogs over it, pandering to the crowd. His eyes scan the group of women around me, find me in their ranks, and hold. The women on either side of me go wild, screaming for him. When he reaches into his pouch for the chalk, the tone changes to some desperate yearning I’ve never known. Not until he keeps his eyes on me, slaps the bull on the ass, and flips over it. Then I’m screaming right there alongside the women, shouting his name.

He grins at my shouts and starts running toward us, toward the stands. I’m up high enough that he’d have to climb the fencing and then up to the stands, so I just assume that he’s going to stop at the edge and do a hip thrust or something. I’m surprised when he scales the fencing like it’s nothing, and then literally throws himself onto the metal stands, climbing up until he’s right in front of me leaning over the railing.

The women start freaking out, hyperventilating as he hangs over and winks at them. “Ladies,” he says, tipping his hat, and I think at least one of them faints.

When he reaches out a hand for me, I raise my brow. “You tryin’ to start a riot?” I ask, stepping forward.

The moment I’m within reach, his hand snaps out and grabs my wrist, dragging me to the railing to press against his sweaty body before I can get my footing. His lips trace the shell of my ear, and I shiver.

“I’m here to protect the cowboys,” he breathes. “But no one’s here to protect me from you, little outsider.”

His other hand wraps around me, pulling me in tight, but he doesn’t kiss me like I sense he wants to. The women behind me are crying, gushing about how much they love him, severely wishing they could be in my place right now.

“Guess I’ll have to stick to your side all night,” I murmur. “For safety reasons, of course.”

“Of course,” he breathes. His hand falls to my ass and squeezes. “Back to work, little outsider.”

He presses a chaste kiss against my cheek and literally backflips off the railing, surprising me enough to stumble backwards. I catch myself before I can trip, watching as he runs backwards onto the dirt, winking at me as he goes.

“He left his mark!” one of the women screams, and the others follow suit.

I turn, trying to figure out what they mean, only to realize they’re all looking at my ass. I glance down and scowl. Right there where he’d squeezed is a bright blue chalk handprint.

Like this isfuckingBlue’s Clues.

I smack my hand over the print, trying to wipe it away.

“No!” the closest woman to me screams. “Don’t wipe it away!”

I sigh. Yeah. Maybe the stands weren’t the best place to sit, after all.

After day five ends and Tripp and Ram collect their stats, I find myself standing awkwardly against the wall, not knowing what to do with myself. Normally, I’d call a rideshare right about now, but my stuff is in Tripp’s truck, and I don’t know where I’m supposed to be staying.

I’m still not even sure it’s a good idea to stay with them.

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