Page 6 of Buck This
“Go bulls,” Torrey said.
“Atta girl.”
“Okay, I’m going to go take my margarita to the box by the chutes now.”
Raven greeted another group of fans. “I’ll be there when I can.”
“I’m off to take a beer to a stranger named Gary Wade,” she said, walking backward.
“He will love it,” Raven called easily.
“Don’t mind me, just headed to a box to cheer on the bulls. By the chutes.”
Raven’s smile was so big as she was talking to her fans.
Today was insane.
Torrey picked up the beer from the bar, tipped the bartender, even though he said she didn’t have to, and then double-fisted the drinks as she marched through the exittoward the other arena, where there were still a billion animals and riders bustling around, preparing for their part in the competition.
She hugged the rail and sipped her drink down halfway so she wouldn’t spill it.
She looked everywhere for Reece to tell her what had just happened, but Torrey couldn’t find her anywhere. Behind the panels, there were monstrous bulls being shuffled through gates. The closer she got to the ticket guy, the busier it was behind the panels. Where was Reece? Maybe she had gone out to the bleachers already. Shoot, was she missing Cobalt’s ride? She couldn’t remember what bull he’d drawn.
“Sorry. So sorry,” she said, maneuvering around a couple of cowboys.
“He’s a fuckin mess,” she heard one of them say, and being the nosey person she was, she walked slower and looked in the direction of their gazes.
The green-eyed cowboy from earlier could be seen between the rails of the panels, and he was slamming his fist against a wall. He bent down and linked his hands behind his head, and she could hear him yell, “Fuuuck!”
“He’s going to get someone killed,” one of the guys said. “They should just kick him off the circuit. Rules are rules.”
Wait, what was happening? The guy looked like he was in pain.
She stopped and just stared at him as he stood and paced. “Is he okay?” she asked the guys.
“Not even a little,” one of them said before they both walked away.
Torrey was almost to the boxes. She could see the guy with the beer shirt from here. So close. Grumpy Cowboy’s anger wasn’t her business, but when she tried to continue her trek toward the ticket-taker, her legs stayed locked in the arena dirt.
The guy was on his knees now, one arm cradling his stomach, one locked on the lower rung of a panel.
“Hey,” she called.
He didn’t turn.
“Hey, you,” she called louder.
He swung his blazing, angry gaze to her.
“Are you okay?”
He froze for a second, then rocked back on his bent knees. “I’m fine.”
Her heart was pounding so hard, but she couldn’t figure out what she was feeling. Fear? Excitement being under such a direct gaze like this?
She lifted the beer in a silent cheers and made her way to the ticket guy, forcing herself not to look back. Whatever was happening, he wanted to own it. It wasn’t her burden.
Men could be stubborn like that, and she’d learned hard lessons in pushing to be let in. Most men she’d met weren’t capable of letting a woman in.
