Page 19 of Eight Seconds to Fly

Beau laughed, shaking his head and I frowned at him. “What?”

He waved me away. “I’ll tell you when you’re older, Nugget.”

I’d hated when he said that when we were kids, like he and Branch weren’t only one year older than me. Hell, Beau was only eight months older. I glared, and it just made him laugh harder. “You are all grown up, but your pouting face is still exactly the same.”

He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Come on, Nugget. We’ll order you an Uber so you can go home and have sweet dreams.”

I nodded. I had a feeling my dreams might involve more cowboys than was good for me tonight.

6

Iwas jittery. Butterflies had taken flight in my chest and refused to leave. I had no idea where Frankie was. We’d arrived at the arena, he’d kissed my head and taken off behind the chutes before I even had the opportunity to ask. That was hours ago, and he was yet to reappear. I stretched out my legs as Beau sat between them, taping my knees and my shoulders.

“You look like you’re about to run out of here screaming, Nugget. What’s up?”

I wish I knew. Imposter syndrome maybe. Dylan was over in the corner giving an interview to a magazine, his megawatt smile all but begging you to take him home to meet your mama. The girl doing the interview looked like she was one lip-bite away from swooning like a legit Belle.

One of the Brazilians, José, the number one in the world, was giving an interview in stilted English. He looked uncomfortable with the attention, but the guy rode like there wasn’t a bull that could conquer him.

I couldn’t even sit on my bulls. I sucked in a deep breath and wondered what the fuck I was doing. Maybe I could have been a barrel racer or something. Maybe I could have been a kindergarten teacher like my daddy had wanted, even though I was not good with kids. But I mean, how hard could it be? Harder than riding 1600 pounds of enraged beast?

Well, maybe. Thirty five-year-olds was certainly more terrifying to me.

Beau was looking at me, his straight, dark eyebrows lowered over those mesmerizing eyes. His face was twisted into a concerned look, and it was doing something funny to my chest. “What the hell am I doing here, Beau?” I whispered. I didn’t want to say it too loud, just in case the universe heard me and ripped it all away again.

Beau grabbed my knee and squeezed. “You are living your dream, Tessa May. Is this about your no-score last weekend?”

I hesitated then gave a short nod. Beau looked like he wanted to take me into his arms, but I gave him a warning look. As much as I wanted him to soothe away all the hurts like he did when we were kids, it wouldn’t help me gain the respect of the rest of the riders.

He looked deep into my eyes. “We both know that this isn’t an easy career. It’s a few victories with long stretches of defeats. But every defeat is a win. Every time you get up and dust off your ass, you’ve learned something.” He slid his hands up my outer thighs. “You are the stubbornest person I know. What you’re feeling right now is something all rookies that go up a league suffer from at first. It takes a little bit for you to settle into this level. The bulls are more rank. The competition is more ferocious. But you deserve to be here, Nugget. That I truly know.”

“Really? Even Branch?”

Beau scoffed. “You kidding? The stick up his ass wouldn’t let him be anything but the best. But you aren’t Branch, something I thank Jesus for everyday. You are Tessa May Everett, the first girl I ever kissed. You are T.M. Moore, the first female rider at this level. You are Nugget, the strongest person I’ve ever met. You’ve got this.”

Fuck. I wanted to kiss him so bad in that moment that it was making my heart pound beneath my ribcage like a mariachi band.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I slid my hand over his on my thigh and squeezed it. What I really wanted was to urge it a little higher and burn off some of this tension. But that was a bad idea.

Such a bad, bad, bad idea.

I just couldn’t remember why right now.

“Beau!” Branch called, and Beau rocked back on his heels away from me. His eyes were molten though. He felt that tension too. It wasn’t just me. “I need my knee strapped if you’re done with T.M.”

Beau gave me a small smile. “Don’t think I’ll ever be done with you, Tessa May.”

Then he stood, gathering up his kit and heading over to Branch. I looked at the man in question, unable to decipher his expression. It wasn’t friendly in any way. Jealous perhaps? Was he worried I was going to steal Beau from him?

He needn’t have worried. For as long as I could remember, you couldn’t say Branch without adding ‘and Beau’ to the end of it. Where one was, the other was probably too. Once upon a time, after I turned about five, it was Branch and Beau and Nugget. Then we’d hit junior high, and they’d noticed girls and ditched me like a sack of poo. They’d turned into pubescent assholes. Branch was talking low to Beau, his eyes on me. Whatever they were discussing was intense, because Beau was frowning, the expression off putting on his normally congenial face. I went and sat with the Brazilian riders, who gave me friendly smiles but continued their discussion. That was okay. I didn’t want a conversation. I just didn’t want to sit in the dunce corner anymore, ostracized and alone.

Wow. Pity party for one? Your table is ready.

Frankie bounded through the door, a huge smile on his face. I frowned. Did he get laid? “Are you high?” I asked, not that he ever did drugs, but you know, there was a first time for everything.

He grabbed me around the waist, and lifted me in the air. He spun me around and around, laughing, making a spectacle.

“What the hell are you doing?”

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