Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders 11)

“Are you really worried about me?” he asked with total sincerity.

“No, I’m worried about the image you project. An image the PBR doesn’t need.”

“What image is that?”

“Spoiled. You, Chase McKay, are a spoiled brat.” With that, Winnie spun on her high-heeled boot and stormed off.

Smarting from the dressing down, Chase waited until he heard her car roar away before he moved and sat on a bench.

She’d called him a spoiled brat.

For Christsake, he was a twenty-eight-year-old man. He was too goddamned old to be a brat.

Wasn’t he?

How’d you react tonight after getting your ass handed to you on an easy bull?

He’d taken off to indulge in a threesome instead of sticking around to talk to the fans.

Yeah. That was kind of bratty.

How did you respond after being caught in bed with two women by PBR officials?

He’d gotten indignant. Like he was being persecuted for his bad choices. Like he was being singled out.

Yeah. That was kind of bratty behavior too.

He scrubbed his hand over his face. This was all kinds of f**ked up. But he wasn’t too delusional or self-centered to admit the astute Winnie had a point. Several of them. He didn’t have much farther to fall before he hit bottom.

And Winnie knew just where to strike the hardest blow—when it came to his family. Maybe his parents had indulged him, given him leeway with ranch chores. His brothers Quinn and Ben hadn’t minded. Had they?

Even if they had complained, it would’ve been wasted effort.

What would he do if this “break” became permanent? Who would Chase McKay be if he wasn’t a bull rider? What would he do?

Not go back to Sundance and ride the range looking for lost cattle with his brothers and cousins. He’d sold his portion of the ranch to the McKays who wanted to keep the legacy alive for themselves and their children. Chase hadn’t seen a life in Wyoming as something he wanted.

He’d opted not to go to college or a trade school, but straight into the world of rodeo. He’d never developed a hobby. He had nothing in his life he was passionate about except bull riding.

So why had he allowed his riding skills to erode to the point he was standing on the brink of losing everything that mattered to him? For another nameless piece of ass in a cheap motel in another stop along the tour?

Fuck that.

He needed a plan.

He needed to get back to basics.

He needed to prove to himself he could get a handle on his own life.

He needed to make a decision and stick to it.

And he really needed to stay away from easy women.

Hell, he needed to stay away from all women. Swear off women. Forever. Okay, maybe not forever. For at least a month.

At that moment, a star tumbled from the sky, which he took as a sign.

No women for a month. No sex. No exceptions.

Chase had never seriously abstained. Oh sure, he’d bragged to his brothers and cousins he’d gone for four months without sex—but that’d been a total lie. He’d been too embarrassed to admit he had no willpower when it came to offers of free and easy sex and he’d blown it within the first week. Not only that, he’d f**ked up his chance of ownership in a prize bucking bull because he couldn’t keep his damn Wranglers zipped. Not even his buddy calling him a f**king pathetic man-whore had changed his love-’em-and-leave-’em ways. Goddamn. His life had been careening out of control for the better part of a year. He hadn’t hit rock bottom, but he sure could hear his boots scrabbling for purchase on that ledge from where he was teetering.

Enough. Focus on the here and now.

Mind racing, he trudged back to the motel. He opened the door and tried not to goggle at the two women indulging in a mutual sixty-nine.

Janae lifted her head from between Rhea’s thighs and grinned at him. “Chase! You’re back. We’ve been entertaining ourselves, like you asked.”

“I see that. And as much as I appreciate your…efforts, I’m afraid, ladies, that I have some bad news.”

Two weeks later…

Kane McKay answered the phone with a brusque, “Chase? Why’re you callin’ me?”

“Nice to hear your voice too, cuz.”

“Sorry. Lack of sleep makes me cranky. What’s up?”

“I need a favor. And it’s gonna sound really freakin’ weird, so just hear me out.”

“Okay.”

“I need a place to crash. I don’t want anyone—and yeah, by anyone I mean my folks, my brothers and the rest of the assorted McKays—to know I’m in Wyoming.”

Silence. “Ya ain’t killed someone and are on the run from the law or anything?”

“No. I was suspended from the PBR. Mostly because of bullshit politics—” Still in denial, buddy? “—but I need time to figure out my next move. I can’t do it with my family hovering.”

“So it’d just be you?” Kane asked skeptically.

“Yep.”

“No women?”

“I’ve sworn off women.”

“Again? What is that? The fourth time this year?”

“You’re f**kin’ hilarious. That’s another reason I need to get away. Too many temptations of the female flesh around me, and I’m willing to admit I’m a weak, weak man.”

Kane laughed.

“So is anyone living in your old trailer?”

“Nope. Me’n Red hang out there occasionally when we need a break from the kids. I’ll ask Ginger—”

“That’s the other thing. Can we keep it strictly between us?”

A sigh. “I ain’t gonna lie to my wife. I’ll do this much. I won’t tell Ginger you’re comin’, but once you’re here, I’ll let her know. If she suspects someone’s squatting in our love shack, she’ll call Cam. Wouldn’t want our cousin to shoot ya on accident.”

“That’ll work. Thanks.”

“Happy to help. Though, I’ll point out your folks and brothers will be pissed if they hear you’re around and hiding from them. So if it comes up, you keep me out of it. We just straightened out the last of the family drama.”

“Quinn and Ben tell me the new arrangement is workin’ great.” The older generation had officially retired the last few months, forcing changes in the way McKay Ranches were run, leaving his brothers and cousins in charge for the first time.

“So far,” Kane said.

“No fistfights yet?”