Page 9 of Eight Seconds to Fly

We walked out into the steaming streets of Houston, and headed the three blocks to the parking garage. We had another cheap motel on the crappy side of town, but it didn’t matter. I was here. I’d made it.

“So, are we going out to celebrate your history making addition to the professional bull riding circuit? Because if anything deserves to be celebrated, it's this.”

I shook my head. “No way. It means pizza and watching the tapes.”

Frankie sighed exaggeratingly. “All work, no play. Girl, your hooha is going to shrivel up and die if you don’t get out and have some fun soon.”

I slapped him with the back of my hand. “What do you care about my hooha, Frankie? Besides, you are getting enough action for us both.”

Frankie’s shaggy black hair glinted in the sun, his aqua green eyes sparkling. “I care greatly about every part of you, Tessa May, especially everything below that overthinking brain of yours.”

I shook my head at him as we walked up to my truck.

This was it. I was in the big leagues. “Are you going to go back to your name now? No more T.M. Moore?”

I’d taken my Mom’s surname, distancing myself from the Everett name. I wanted to make it on my own. Didn’t want people shutting me out because of some misguided loyalty to my father.

I shook my head. “Nah, Tessa May Everett is the girl I used to be. Maybe when I retire I’ll go back to being her, but until then, I’m T.M.”

Frankie’s mouth turned down, but he nodded. “Let’s go, T.M. We got a lot of prep to do before Friday’s showtime.”

Friday rolled around way too fast.I got to the arena early, getting the sports trainers to tape up my ribs and my knee. I was only twenty-two, but sometimes when I got out of bed in the mornings I felt like I was a hundred.

Still, every single one of those trainers blushed when I stripped off my shirt down to my bra. Guess when you saw dick every day, the sight of a woman would be a bit of a shock. It was such a male dominated sport that even most of the sports-med staff were men.

I thanked Hank, the sports med guy who’d taped me up like a mummy. I slipped my Wranglers back on. They were my lucky jeans. Superstitious bullshit, but I couldn’t shake it. Besides, they fit perfectly. Not too tight, not too loose. It was like wearing a second skin.

I walked over to the ladies bathrooms and spent a solid fifteen minutes wrapping my boobs down. My vest was made to spread the pressure of a stomp to the guts over the torso, but if my boobs were hanging free in the wind, they got more pressure than the rest of my torso, and that shit hurt.

I buttoned up my pink Ariat shirt. Lots of guys wore the pink Ariat shirts though. They had them in the men’s section too. I’d approached Ariat for sponsorship, but they’d turned me down. The big sponsors didn’t know what to do with a female rider. I was a risk. I was a PR dream that could quickly turn into a nightmare. All because I was a woman.

No point bemoaning the fact, even if it annoyed me. I wasn’t here to prove a point. I was here to do something I loved, even with the risks.

If something wasn’t worth dying for, it wasn’t worth living for.

I walked down the corridor of the big arena. It was the first event of the season. They’d hold it in an arena, but most of these events would be held in the open air rings on warm summer nights, with their blinding lights, flowing beer, and bugs so thick it was like walking through a clicking cloud.

I couldn’t wait.

“Nugget?”

I tripped over my feet over the sound of a voice from my past. My heart thundered in my chest, and I had a split second to stay or run.

But Tessa May Everett was not a runner. So instead, I turned and looked at Beau Larkin.

I swallowed hard as memories of the last time I saw him flooded into my brain. That first ride. The elation. The pain.

“Hey Beau.”

He was in front of me in three steps. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into a tight hug, shocking the shit out of me. He smelled like sweat and sandalwood. Honestly, he must have been using the same cologne since he turned thirteen, because he’d always smelled the same.

“Nugget, fuck, what are you doing here?” He pulled me away so he could search my face. He looked almost exactly the same, except bigger. His shoulders were broad and muscular, his whiskey brown eyes still like falling into a warm bath.

I gave him a half-smile. “I’m riding here.”

He jerked like I’d punched him in the face. “Ridin’? You’re here riding bulls?”

I tensed my jaw. “Yeah. Riding bulls. This is a bull riding competition.”

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