Page 13 of Rough Ride

But then the announcer said, “Next up, from Horseshoe Ranch, Colorado… Johnny Armstrong!”

My gaze immediately whipped toward the arena floor as Johnny rode into the spotlight. He didn’t gallop or wave his hat or do anything else extravagant; he just entered with a calm confidence. I couldn’t help but compare him to Chris Appletonin my mind, remembering the way he looked this morning on his jog downtown. There was nothing fake about Johnny. He was arealman.

There was a muted cheer from the crowd, but nothing spectacular. I smiled to myself. I was going to tease him about that later.

But Johnny wasn’t done. He stood up in his stirrups, put a hand on the top of his hat, and leaped into the air. I watched in shock and excitement as he completed a perfect backflip, landing softly on the dirt floor of the arena.

The fourteen thousand fans were just as surprised—they were silent for a heartbeat, then erupted in a deafening roar that rivaled even Chris Appleton’s reaction. Johnny jogged forward, smoothly leaping back into the saddle and waving his hat for the crowd.

And as he passed in front of my section, his eyes locked onto me like he knew I would be there. His smile shifted, becoming a little more genuine. I had to admit: my heart sped up as he rode by, body rolling suggestively in the saddle along with his horse’s steps.

Damnit. So much for teasing him tonight.

“…Elijah Hawkshaw!” the announcer said.

Was that the Elijah I had met last night?

Sure enough, there was the goofy boy in the brown cowboy hat, riding into the arena. He stood up in his stirrups like he was going to do a backflip too, bending his knees. A hush came over the crowd as he lunged into the air…

…but one of his feet was caught in the stirrup. He fell sideways off the horse, drawing gasps and cries of surprise from the spectators. But he didn’t hit the ground; his foot remained in the stirrup, swinging him forward, then tossing him into the air. Heswung his leg over his horse’s head, landing back in his saddle—facing the wrong direction.

There was a muted laugh and cheer from the crowd, who clearly couldn’t tell if the stunt was intentional or not. Eli waved his hat while riding backwards, pretending like nothing was wrong.

And when he passed my section, just twenty feet away, he gave me a knowing wink before continuing to wave his hat for the crowd.

I narrowed my eyes and smirked. That was the kind of show-off attitude that normally made me roll my eyes, but Eli pulled it off with the right amount of goofy charm. Once again, this was in stark contrast to Chris Appleton’s manufactured personality.

“Two beers, please,” said a nice woman wearing a leather skirt, purple cowboy boots, and a denim jacket.

I handed her the two beers as the next rodeo competitor rode out, his name booming through the arena loudspeakers: “Sawyer Easton.”

I collected the cash from the woman and glanced out at the arena. Yep, it wasthatSawyer, decked out in black like the villain from an old Western movie. He rode calmly without fanfare or spectacle, his face completely blank as he circled the arena. The crowd was strangely quiet for him, as if wondering why he wouldn’t at leastpretendto be excited to compete in the rodeo like all the other participants.

I remembered what he said last night:I don’t play games.It looked like he was serious about that, and intended to let his rodeo performance speak for itself.

And as he passed in front of my section, his gaze collided with mine. He remained stone-faced for a heartbeat, then continued staring out at the crowd. He practicallyglaredat the fans.

Had he not recognized me? After the reactions from Johnny and Eli, I was disappointed he didn’t at least smile at me. I guess he really didn’t play games.

The most annoying part? I found his uncaring attitude irresistible. Which frustrated me, because I normally wasn’t attracted to the “I don’t give a shit” bad-boy attitude. Yet I couldn’t deny the warmth at the base of my stomach as I watched his broad-shouldered body ride away from me.

Whatever. It wasn’t like I was interested in him, anyway.

“HEY!” someone tapped me roughly on the back of my shoulder. “Are you deaf, lady? I’ve been shouting for a beer for the past minute!”

I gave the asshole customer a fake Chris Appleton smile. “Sorry, I’m all out of beer.”

He frowned and pointed at my backpack. “It looks full to—”

I shoved past him and walked up the stairs, my mind focused on the competitors I had met last night.

7

Sophie

I finished working at the Dickies Arena and then drove to the Stockyards for my shift at Billy Bob’s. Traffic was horrible as we neared the massive honky tonk; since tonight was the start of the rodeo, everyone wanted to soak in the cowboy experience.

“It would be easier to walk here,” Liz muttered as we walked inside. She had been stuck in traffic right behind me.

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