Page 43 of Buck This
“Was he a fighter?” she asked.
“He was and is a lot of things. One of them being one of the most legendary bucking bull shifters to ever exist. No herd has more awards under their belts than Quickdraw and his boys. You know his son?”
“Tuff Enough?” she asked.
“Yep. He’s the number one bronc rider in the world right now. He’s held the title for a few years now.”
“Why didn’t he go into the family business and buck?” she asked as she followed him up to the door of the RV.
“Because he’s a werewolf like his momma. Last I checked, there wasn’t a circuit for bucking werewolves.”
She giggled at the imagery he’d painted in her mind. “I guess it would make sense that he didn’t want to ride bucking bulls if his dad is one. Broncs makes sense. Are there bucking horse shifters?” she asked curiously.
“Nope. Those are all animal.”
“So, Tuff competes with the human bronc riders?”
“Nope. That wouldn’t be fair. His competition is all shifters. Sort of how the circuit I buck in is all bucking bull shifters. The animal bulls are a different circuit, and they all compete for different awards and different cash prizes.”
He led her inside his RV and she sat at the small table, lost in thought. “Was your brother a bucking bull shifter like you?”
Buck’s eyes closed off immediately, and he knelt down to grab a pair of water bottles from the small mini fridge. She’d stayed here last night with him, but he’d insisted she take the RV while he’d slept in the back seat of his truck. In some ways, Buck was an absolute monster, and in others, he was a compelling gentleman. He handed her a water and told her, “Set it by the bed in case you get thirsty in the night.”
He'd done the same last night, and she knew if she were to stay with him longer, he would make it routine to care for her in this small way.
“What are you smilin’ at?”
“Oh nothing. Just that you can be pretty nice when you want to be.”
“Yeah well, don’t tell anyone my secret. I’ll deny it to my grave.”
And he’d done it. He’d changed the subject. He didn’t want to talk about his brother, and it wasn’t her right to pry too deeply for information on him. She had a feeling something had happened to him, but Buck wouldn’t share any more with her tonight. She could tell.
He turned on the small, wall-mounted television, and the news popped up. The media was covering the competition.
“Whoa, that’s you!” she exclaimed, pointing.
He’d turned his back and was pulling on a pair of sweatpants, but at her exclamation, he turned, narrowed his eyes at the TV, and changed the channel.
“Why did you do that? I bet they are going to show your interviews!”
“I’m sick of seeing myself,” he said simply.
She watched him brush his teeth. His torso flexed with the movement, and his eyes stayed somber. He had a faraway look to him.
“Hey,” she said, standing. “Are you okay?”
“I’m always good,” he said low.
But he still seemed tense. She didn’t understand, so she slid her arms around him from behind and hugged him, resting her cheek against his spine.
Buck froze, and after a few seconds, he softened and straightened to his full height, and patted her arms where she rested them against his abs. She could feel his sigh as much as hear it.
“I can sleep in the truck tonight if you need some space,” she told him.
“Space is the last thing I want. It ain’t you.”
“What’s wrong?”
