Page 18 of Buck This
“Well, I wish I had you up at my ranch training for an entire offseason before you were taking on competitions, for sure. Your bull is raw and needs a ton of training.”
“I don’t quit mid-competition. Never have, never will. If they allow me to buck tomorrow, I’m bucking.”
Quickdraw nodded slowly. “You bucked with a blown-out hip last year at the Iron Belt.”
Buck thinned his lips into a line. He hadn’t told anyone about that. “I was fine.”
Quickdraw leaned his elbows on his knees and leveled him with a serious look. “Two days, let me coach you. You have to actually listen to me, and try to be less shitty.”
“Great speech,coach,” he said sarcastically.
“The first of many. First rule, go find that girl.”
“Why?”
“Because she settles something in you and I need your bull as calm as possible. It’ll be a miracle if we can get you through this without you killing anyone. If she settles you down at all, she’s on the team.”
“Uh, I don’t think she wants to be on the team. She’s a banker from Billings.” And she’d seen him at his worst in more than one moment tonight.
“I don’t care if she’s an underwater basket weaver from Antarctica, Buck, ask her to be on the fucking team. It’s two days.” He stood up and stormed away. “No more arguing, dick-bag. Just do what I say so we can try to get a wad of cash winnings in your pocket or whatever-the-hell you said is important.”
He said that last part really loud and his words echoed through the entire stable.
How many years had he wished for a coach? One who was worth a damn. How many? Since he was eight and his brother started training him to buck? A trainer and a coach were different. He’d grown up idolizing Quickdraw Slow Burn, and Dead of Winter, and First Time Train Wreck, and Two Shots Down, and Hagan’s Lace, and hell, he even respected Tuff Enough, Quickdraw’s son, who wasn’t even a bull or a rider. He was a damn werewolf who rode broncs for a living and was the same age as Buck This.
And now Quickdraw was offering him coaching for two days during the biggest money-purse competition of the year? What was happening right now?
He wished his brother, Teague, was here to see this.
Buck This slammed his head back against the stall door to punish himself for letting that thought in. He couldn’t think about Teague. Not while he was in this competition.
All it did was make him worse.
Chapter Four
The barrel racers were Torrey’s second favorite part of this competition, but now a second round of bull riding for the Battle of the Bulls portion of the event was happening, and her heart was in her throat.
For the tenth time, she scanned the crowd in the bleachers, but the arena was so large, she couldn’t see past the first couple of sections on either side.
Reece had ditched her again.
God, it had stung this time. She’d told her the new friends were saving Reece a spot on the front row in the bleachers, but there wasn’t enough room for Torrey. She’d thought about reprimanding Reece but what was the point? It wouldn’t change anything. Mostly she was just tired and felt defeated.
Reece sure was different nowadays.
They’d been friends off and on for ten years, and she’d been a caring friend when she was around. Usually, she only disappeared when she had a boyfriend, but Torrey had grown desensitized to that pattern. One thing about Reece…Torrey had always felt like their friendship was equal on both sides and both of them worked at it, but lately, she was realizing it may never be like that again.
It cut her deep.
“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice asked from right behind her.
Startled, Torrey twisted around in her seat to find Buck. His face held a somber expression under his baseball cap with the brim pulled down low.
“What happened to your cowboy hat?” she asked.
“I dropped it at my trailer with my gear.” He cleared his throat and gestured to the empty chair beside her. “May I?”
Well, this was a change. Was he being polite right now? Maybe he had a concussion or something.
