Page 13 of Buck This
“Yeah, when he was yelling at me not to jump the fence?”
“No, he was saying something about a sponsorship, but you get in your own way. Something something…and then he mentioned you being a shit-show.” She plastered a grin on her face.
Buck just sat there staring at her for a full fifteen seconds before he moved again. “You’re saying Quickdraw was talking about me?”
“And some guys named Dead of Winter and Two Shots Down, and this awesome lady I met named Raven.”
“Hagan’s Lace. Her name is Hagan’s Lace.”
“Okay.”
His eyes narrowed to little glowing green slits. “Who are you?”
“Your guardian angel.” She waited a full three seconds before she said, “Just kidding. I would not want that job.”
“Seriously, who are you?”
“Your pre-buck make-out partner?”
“Geez, woman, just answer the question straight.”
“Uuuh, who am I? That’s a good question.” She nodded as she thought about it. “I am a marriage-failing, feral cat-feeding, bank-teller, occasional-margarita-drinking, trying-to-find-myself disaster of a woman. Some call me a city slicker. I’m a mediocre driver, who sticks-out-like a sore thumb wherever I go and can’t quite get it together. Also, I’m a crochet queen from Billings. If you ever need a crochet semi-warm blanket? I’m your girl. It’ll take me two weeks though, so put in your order early.”
He was nodding. “How many cats?”
“Six. Only one lets me pet it. Does that scare you? Crazy cat lady showing up out of nowhere to give you beers and compliments?”
He huffed a tired laugh. “I don’t need compliments. I don’t like them. I don’t know what to do with them.”
“Daddy issues?” she guessed.
“Don’t do that,” he muttered. “Don’t dig for information about me. I don’t like it.”
“What do you like?”
“Not feeling like a fuck up after I buck would be nice.”
She chewed the side of her lip to hold her next words in her throat. His admission touched her heart. He was a man that was hurting. Anyone with eyes could see that.
“I like your horns,” she said, changing the subject. “It makes you look even scarier.”
He cracked a smile, and God, what a handsome smile he had. It froze her into place. “I don’t think I should sit in the box with you. I have a reputation. You’ll have more fun without the attention.”
“Wait, you can ruin my reputation just by sitting by me? I’m in.”
“Chh, how many of those have you had?” he joked, twitching his chin toward her beer.
“Fourteen so far.”
“Seriously?”
“No. I had the margarita you saw me chug before you assaulted me with your lips, and three sips of this beer.” She took another sip. “Now four. About to be five—”
“Okaaay. Let me put a shirt on. I don’t even know if they’re going to let me buck tomorrow night. I got a fuckin’ penalty again so I’m basically out of the competition,” he said as he stood and pulled a T-shirt on.
“What can you win?” she asked as she stood and dusted hay from the backs of her legs. When she looked up, his eyes were glued to her cleavage, and when she checked, her tits were damn-near hanging out.
“Whoops,” she said, pulling the fabric back into place.
