Page 10 of Eight Seconds to Fly

He blinked rapidly, his hands still on my arms. “Does Branch know you’re here?”

Now it was my turn to be confused. “What the hell does Branch have to do with anything? I haven’t seen him in like five years, Beau.”

He looked past me and down the long corridor. “I have a feelin’ that’s about to change.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I’d followed Branch’s career, of course. I was a sucker like that. When he’d torn his ACL and his MCL late at the end of last season, I thought he’d be out for this year. I should have known the bastard would be too damn stubborn for that.

“Beau, can I borrow you to-” his steps faltered. “Nugget?”

I turned in Beau’s arms, stepping away from my old friend to face another old friend. Hell, maybe he was an old nemesis. It was a fine line with Branch.

“Hey Branch.”

He looked pale, like he’d seen a ghost. Unlike Beau, he didn’t come closer. “What are you doin’ here?” he asked, eyes narrowing. Yeah, Branch was always a little quicker than Beau. More cunning. More suspicious.

“Heard this was where they held knitting lessons.”

Beau hissed a laugh beside me, but at Branch’s dark look, he rapidly shut up. I gave Branch my own stink-eye. “I’m here to ride, Branch. Earned my place fair and square, so whatever macho bullshit you are about to spew, just can it.”

I turned on my heel and walked in the opposite direction to where I was supposed to go.

“Nugget,” Branch called after me and I ignored him. “Tessa May,” he yelled and my feet stilled. Damn him. I glared at him over my shoulder.

He smirked at me. “You look good.”

I flipped him the bird and strode away to the soundtrack of his damn laughter. Screw Branch Watson and Beau Larkin.

The only thing I had to prove, I’d prove on the dirt tonight.

I walked around in circles at the back of the arena for fifteen minutes before I retraced my steps. I kept an eye out for Branch or Beau, but they seemed to be gone. I did stumble across Frankie though.

“Hey T.M., I’ve been looking all over for you. Do you know who I just met? Randy freaking Bryan.” Some of the bullfighters were as famous as the riders, and justly so. Those guys were crazy as hell. They deserved the adulation. Frankie always called me T.M. at events. NeverQuerida, or Tessa or anything else. That was for private.

I grinned at Frankie. It would have been like meeting Garth Brooks or something. “Did you fangirl?”

“Screw off,” he grumbled but he was grinning like a fool.

We walked to the back rooms together, and my heart began to hammer. Frankie looked over at me, his brow creased. “You okay?”

I nodded even though I felt like I was about to have a heart attack. “Fine. I just ran into a couple of pieces of my past though.”

Frankie’s eyebrows rose. “How past are we talking? Like California or…?”

My lips thinned and I looked around. “Yeah, option number two. From the past-past.”

Frankie whistled, and pushed the door open to the waiting room. Every set of eyes in the room flicked to me. I was used to it. What I wasn’t used to was the familiar faces.

Branch and Beau stood in the corner talking to another man. I ignored them, walking over to an empty locker. I stuffed my suitcase underneath the bench and tried to ignore my surroundings too. The silence was heavy and I sighed. Frankie had my back, but he was letting me handle shit. That's what I loved about him. He walked over and talked to the Brazilian riders, some we knew from our time on the minor circuit.

I sighed and turned around, facing the room full of men. “Yes, I’m a woman. Yes, I’m here to ride bulls. No, I don’t care if you get naked and let your dicks swing in the breeze, I promise I’ve seen it all before. I’m here for the same reason you all are. I want that thrill of climbing onto the back of a 1600 pound beast and conquering it for eight seconds.” I smiled, but didn’t show too much teeth. I had to straddle the line between confident and earnest, otherwise I was considered a bitch, or worse again, prey.

I looked over at the Brazilian riders, and a few of the older ones gave me a nod, and I nodded back relieved. Whatever Frankie was saying to them, they were cool with it. When I looked around the rest of the room, their expressions were mostly guarded, with the occasional leer of disgust. So about right then. When I got to Branch’s group, I upped the bitch factor of my smile. But when they stepped aside and I got a good look at who they’d been talking to, the smile fell clear off my face.

Great. Fucking great.

“Tessa?” Dylan Montaigne, my one night stand, stood with my ex-best friends. Fuck my life.

3

---