After I consider it for another long moment, the familiar excitement of giving myself over to the power of a wild horse sings through my veins, and the pull of my long-standing friendship with Chase pushes me over the top.
Fuck it.
These assholes want something to talk about after they leave, I’m going to give them something to fucking talk about. It’s been a year or two since I’ve been on a bronc bareback, but your muscles don’t forget something you’ve trained them to do for nearly thirty years. No, they remember, even when you feel like you don’t.
I toss my mostly empty can aside and jump off the fence, into the paddock, and start walking in the direction of the grazing pack of geldings. They look mild-mannered enough from here, but I know for a fact that the moment I toss myself up on one of their backs, all hell is going to break loose and then some. Chase’s dad is one of the biggest, best bronc contractors in the West. He supplies broncs to rodeos all over this side of the country, but this crop here is meant for next year’s professional circuit. They’re the meanest, baddest, biggest bucking horses the world has to offer. They’ve literally been bred for the sole purpose of sending cowboys flying toward the earth at speeds much greater than gravity.
And yet, I keep heading toward them. There’s probably a reason my mama always told me I must have been born with one screw loose.
Chase whoops and hollers in the background, telling Cutter and Lynn things like I can’t wait to watch you eat shit and Both your mamas are about to spread their legs in their beds without knowing why.
Rhett Jameson, he says, is so fucking good on a bronc, he makes women orgasm telepathically.
The corner of one side of my mouth curves up at that last one because even I have to admit, Chase Walker is one hell of a hype man. The truth is, he’s giving me a lot more credit than I’m probably due. It’s been almost a year since I’ve made a woman come, period, let alone with the power of my mind. Since Samantha Holsten, my occasional hookup, went and met some beef farmer and got married, I haven’t had it in me to troll the waters for a new partner.
Scanning the group of horses, I pick through the ones in the front quickly. Two on the left have already been worked over by Chase and Cutter tonight, and one on the right has been subjected to the same from Lynn.
Two in the middle look at me out of the sides of their eyes, watching my approach closely, and I study the minute differences in their stances. One, a red roan, and the other, a bay with legs the color of midnight.
I have no doubt they’re both more of a ride than the average Joe would bargain for, but the bay, in particular, looks like he has the kind of flare that, if being scored, would land me right at the top of the leaderboard.
And tonight? After the way Cut and Lynn threw down the gauntlet? He’s the one.
“Somebody got a timer ready?” I ask, glancing back over my shoulder. Chase holds up his phone as evidence that he’s more than just a mouth, and I turn back to my opponent and heave one last relaxing breath.
It’s just like old times, I tell myself silently. Just do exactly what you’ve always known how to do and don’t overthink it.
Eight seconds. Eight fucking seconds.
Feet soft as a whisper, I move toward the bay gelding slowly. He watches me the whole time, and I know, without a doubt, I’m going to have to get ahold of his mane as soon as I’m at his side.
One step, two, and a final third, I reach out slowly and grab a huge chunk of shiny black hair in my hand, say a prayer, and swing myself up and over his back in one smooth motion.
As soon as my ass hits his back, he explodes like a stick of live dynamite. Straight up at first, and then ass over end, he bucks like his one and only goal in life is to put my face in the dirt.
Vaguely, I can hear Chase as he cheers with every passing second. Around to the left and back to the right, this bad boy is quick as a whip. My legs chug with the pump of his bucks, and my heart pounds wildly inside my chest.
This thrill—it’s one of a fucking kind. It’s exhilarating in a way I can’t describe and terrifying in a way that makes me want to do it even more.
It’s a test of mental and physical endurance that only a select few can handle, and by the growing sound of Chase’s roars, it seems like I’m still one of them.