Tanner (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 1)

by Sarah Mayberry

  She’d been comped a prime seat, yet another way that Tanner had looked after her. Apparently she had only to voice a wish to have it granted.

  The thought triggered a wave of erotic sense memories and she shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. She was starting to worry that sleeping with Tanner had done something to her because she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about sex. When she’d been out shopping, a glimpse of a dark-haired man bending to try on a pair of boots had reminded her of the sight of Tanner’s head between her thighs, his mouth doing incredible things to her.

  And now she was sitting here surrounded by families, Queen’s We Will Rock You blaring, and remembering the way he’d pushed her against the wall and thrust into her over and over.

  Evie fanned her top, aware she was probably more than a little flushed. Hopefully people would just think she was excited about the night ahead.

  Which she was, but in a different way.

  The music faded as an MC came on and welcomed everyone to the final night of the Tulsa Invitational. In a smooth, deep voice he told the crowd the winner of tonight’s event would walk away with $28,000 and points toward the world title. In the arena, four cowboys poured something onto the ground, then touched a flame to it. The words American Extreme flared to life, burning yellow and blue. A series of electronic screens around the arena switched from images of event highlights to rider profiles as the MC ran through the rankings to date. Evie sat a little straighter when she saw Tanner’s name at the top of the list.

  He was winning. In fact, if her rudimentary understanding of how these events worked was correct, he was the odds-on favorite.

  And he hadn’t said a word to her about it.

  She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, more than a little ticked off at his extreme modesty. Men. Or maybe that should be cowboys. The roustabouts and cattlemen back home were the same—reticent to a fault when it came to blowing their own horns.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for the country’s baddest, bravest, boldest bull riders,” the MC said, and everyone got to their feet, stomping and whistling, clapping and cheering as a double row of bull riders entered the dirt-floored arena and formed two loose semicircles facing the crowd. Flares exploded, sending sparks and smoke into the air, and lights flashed and strobed, making it look more like a rock concert than a sporting event.

  The MC introduced each rider by name, and Evie couldn’t help grinning when Tanner’s name boomed out over the speakers. He looked almost aggressively handsome in his starched black shirt, Wranglers, and red and black leather chaps with fancy decorative tooling and fringes that danced when he stepped forward. He was slightly taller than the other riders, she noticed, and the crowd’s applause swelled for him, telling her he was a favorite.

  She was almost surprised when she heard Troy’s name come over the speakers, and she glanced across to where he was lifting his hat and nodding to the crowd. How strange that she’d completely forgotten he was riding tonight, too.

  She sank back into her seat along with the rest of the crowd as the riders filed back out of the stadium, trying to understand herself. Two days ago, she’d been humiliated and hurt because she’d caught Troy with another woman, and now she was sitting here, her belly jumpy with nerves because she was focused on another man entirely.

  It wasn’t that she was fickle or shallow; she was almost certain of it. She’d held a flame for Troy for years, after all. When she’d spilled her guts to Tanner that first night in his hotel room, she’d told him she was starting to suspect she’d come to Tulsa to have her heart broken. At the time, she hadn’t entirely meant it. She’d simply been trying to acknowledge the doubts she’d had about her so-called relationship with Troy right from the start.

  But maybe her words had been more accurate than she’d understood. Maybe she really had come here to cauterize the wound that was her unrequited love for Troy, and maybe she’d been more than ready to move on when the opportunity presented itself in the very tempting form of Tanner Harding.

  It was hard to be certain about anything, given the intensity of the last few days. Between jet lag, shock at Troy’s betrayal, and what had happened with Tanner, it had been a crazy weekend and perhaps she wouldn’t fully understand it until she could look back at it all with the benefit of hindsight.

  One thing was for sure, though—she couldn’t and wouldn’t regret falling into bed with Tanner. There were some experiences that were so elemental and raw they simply couldn’t be denied, and being with Tanner was one of them.

  She shook off her introspection as the MC announced the first rider, a Brazilian who was just nineteen years old. His face was unlined and almost sweet in the headshot that flashed up on the screen alongside his ride stats to date. Evie frowned. Did his mother know he was risking his neck riding bulls every weekend?

  The screen filled with an overhead shot of the chute, showing an enormous bull and the Brazilian preparing to mount him. Watching the big beast shift restively against the rails, Evie felt the churn of nerves.

  As a future vet, she had mixed feelings about any sporting event that utilized animals for entertainment. On the other hand, she’d grown up on a cattle station, and she had a rural dweller’s pragmatic attitude to livestock.

  She knew from the research she’d done when Troy first started bull riding that there were stringent controls on the way the bulls were transported and handled. She’d seen stats that said a typical bull would “perform” for less than two minutes a year on the circuit, and that most bulls would only take one rider per event. She also knew that stock contractors could earn a lot of money from a “rank” bull, which made it in their best interest to ensure the welfare of their animals. Once retired, the bulls were put out to pasture to live out their days siring more bulls and enjoying the life of Riley.

  Not a bad deal, when she considered the fate of most other farmed animals in modern agriculture.

  The roar of the crowd alerted her to the fact the gate had opened. The bull sprang into the arena, the Brazilian clinging gamely to his back, and Evie held her breath as the rider was whipped this way and that, somehow staying seated no matter how the bull bucked and twisted.

  The clock ticked toward eight seconds, and just as she thought the rider had qualified, he lost his center and the bull sent him flying. He landed on one shoulder, hard, and shocked gasps could be heard left and right. Beside Evie, a woman covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide as she waited for the rider to get up off the ground. Two insanely brave men were distracting the bull and herding it toward the exit gate, and only when the bull was gone and the gate closed did support crew run onto the arena.

  Evie’s hands were tight on her knees as she waited to see if the rider was okay. The crowd started clapping as he stood with the help of one of the medical crew, waving a hand before limping slowly from the arena.

  “Bloody hell,” Evie said as she sank back into her seat.

  Just in case she hadn’t fully comprehended how high the stakes were in this sport, the first ride out of the gate had reminded her. Every year, men died or were critically injured trying to ride these enormous bulls. It was classed as the most dangerous sport in the world, and Troy had once told her bull riders had a saying: It’s not if you’re going to get hurt, it’s when and how bad.

  And Tanner was scheduled to ride in half an hour’s time.

  You signed up for this. You wanted to come.

  She had, and she was glad to be here, but there was no denying that she was probably going to feel more than a little sick when it was Tanner in the chute.

  She became increasingly nervous as the clock ticked down to Tanner’s ride. Twice she pulled out her phone to text him a good luck wish, and twice she put it away. She didn’t want to distract him when he was probably psyching himself up for his ride. No doubt he had a routine and rituals, like most pro athletes. She didn’t want to get in the way of that—she wanted him to be at his best, so he could walk
away from his ride intact and whole.

  “Tulsa, get excited, because next up in the chute is the Invitational favorite, Tanner ‘Hard Man’ Harding. A nine-year veteran of the sport, Tanner has a world title under his belt and is gunning hard for a second shot this year. The way he’s been riding lately, he’s in with a red-hot chance and we can’t wait to see him go head to head with Hurricane Habit, a newcomer to the tour who has already built himself a reputation of being rank and ready to destroy anyone who dares to mount him.”

  The MC’s patter went on, but Evie tuned it out, her gaze glued to the screen where she could see Tanner in the chute. The protective grill on his helmet obscured his face, but she could tell it was him by the way he held himself. She watched as he stroked his glove along his rope to activate the rosin before adjusting it and wrapping it around his fist and laying the loose end across the bull’s neck. Rising a little, he shuffled forward on the bull’s back until he was almost sitting on his rope.

  “Oh, God,” Evie whispered to herself.

  Now that crunch time was here, she wasn’t sure she could watch. Her hands were clammy, and she couldn’t decide if she needed to go to the bathroom or find somewhere to throw up.

  On the screen, Tanner had his head down, his focus somewhere on the bull’s back. Then he gave a small nod to the guy manning the latch, and the gate swung wide.

  Evie scooted right to the edge of her seat, every muscle tense as she leaned forward to watch the bull jackknife out of the chute. Sawdust flew as the animal bucked and jumped and twisted and turned. She forgot to breathe as she watched Tanner counteract every move the bull pulled, arching back when the bull kicked his hind legs, standing on his spurs when the bull kicked up his front legs. Tanner’s torso twisted with the bull, his free hand a blur in the air. He made it look effortless, the way he simply stuck in the saddle as though he was welded there.

  Despite herself, she felt a rising sense of excitement and triumph as she realized he was going to stick the ride for eight seconds and qualify. She already knew from his standing that if he made it, he’d won the event, and she gave a shriek of approval as the buzzer sounded to signal he’d qualified.

  The bull didn’t know the ride was over, though, and was still doing his damnedest to unseat Tanner. She saw Tanner judge his timing, then release the rope and leap to the side. He landed on his hip and rolled to his feet—just as the bull pulled a seemingly impossible midair twist that sent his rear hooves flying toward Tanner’s head.

  Evie’s shout of triumph died in her throat as Tanner’s head was flung backward by the blow, the sound audible and sickening. He fell to the dirt as though he’d been shot, and there wasn’t a doubt in Evie’s mind that he was unconscious.

  Tears flooded her eyes and for a moment she didn’t know what to do. Her first instinct was to race forward, climb the rail and run to his side. She retained enough common sense to know that was both dumb and impossible—the drop to the arena floor was over twelve feet, and she was a vet, not a doctor.

  Both hands pressed to her chest, she watched as a full medical team ran out to surround Tanner. The crowd was quiet, the atmosphere shocked. Everyone knew that something very serious had just happened.

  Two runners appeared with a stretcher, and Evie watched as they carefully transferred Tanner’s very still body onto it. They’d put a collar around his neck to support his spine, but even from here she could see that wasn’t the issue—his left eye was a bloody mess, blood pooling in the socket.

  When she was in high school, she’d been riding with a friend when they’d come across a snake unexpectedly. Her friend’s horse had panicked, rearing up in fright, and her friend had fallen and hit her head on a fence post. She’d been as still as Tanner was now when they lifted her into the Royal Flying Doctor’s ambulance plane. She’d died that night in hospital from a massive brain bleed.

  Please, don’t let Tanner die. Please let him be okay.

  The woman next to her was looking at her, and Evie realized she must have said her prayer out loud.

  “The doctors they’ve got here are the best,” she said. “They’ll take good care of him, don’t you worry.”

  She patted Evie’s arm consolingly, and Evie forced a smile. Now that the first shock had worn off, she could think more clearly. Standing, she made her way to the aisle, excusing her way past half a dozen subdued audience members before racing up the stairs.

  She tried to remember where the security guards had taken her to meet Troy. They’d gone down some stairs, and there had been a red door…

  She ran down the corridor, her boot heels like gunshots on the concrete floor. Down the stairs, and left along another section of concourse. Finally she spotted a familiar landmark—a concession stand with a massive bucking bull emblazoned on the side. Just behind it was the red door. She hit it running, unable to shake the image of Tanner’s pale and bloodied face.

  “Excuse me, Miss. You can’t be back here.”

  The voice came from behind Evie. She ignored it, spotting a laminated sign taped to the wall, directing riders to the medical rooms. That’s where they’d take Tanner, right? Or maybe he was already in an ambulance, going to hospital.

  “Hey. Stop right there, lady.”

  Suddenly there was another security guard in front of her, barring her way.

  “I’m with Tanner Harding. I need to see him; he’s been hurt,” she explained, her voice high with urgency.

  “Do you have a security pass, ma’am?” the guard asked. He was gray-haired and kind-looking, but she got the sense he wasn’t about to let her go anywhere without some kind of official sanction.

  “No. We’re friends. We’re going out for dinner afterward…”

  The guard’s expression changed, and Evie could see him mentally filing her under “crazed buckle bunny”.

  “Please. I have to see him. They took him out on a stretcher.”

  “You really can’t be back here, I’m sorry,” the guard said, taking her by the elbow.

  Evie dug her heels in, ready to resist. Then she spotted a familiar figure at the end of the corridor.

  “Troy.”

  Troy’s head snapped around and he frowned. Then he was striding her way.

  “Evie. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to check on Tanner. Can you vouch for me, please?”

  Troy’s frown deepened but he glanced at the guard. “She’s okay. I know her.”

  “Okay, if you say so,” the guard said, shooting Evie a speculative look.

  “Where is he? Is he okay? Do they know how badly hurt he is? Please tell me he’s not still unconscious?” she asked.

  “I don’t know anything. I just heard he got taken off. I was going to check in with the sports medicine team to see what’s going on.” Troy gave Evie a searching look. “I didn’t know you knew Tanner that well.”

  “Can we go to ask them now? Can you make sure he’s okay for me?”

  Troy looked as though he wanted to keep interrogating her but seemed to think twice about it.

  “It’s just up here,” he said, indicating with a jerk of his chin that she should come with him.

  They followed the corridor around a corner and were forced to stop when they found the way blocked by a crowd of people gathered around a closed door.

  “Is this where they’d bring him?” Evie asked, standing on her toes and trying to see over people’s heads.

  “Yeah. Give me a second.”

  Troy started elbowing and excusing his way through the crowd. A few people threw Evie curious looks but she kept her gaze glued to the back of Troy’s head, her arms crossed over her chest as she tried to contain her growing anxiety. She could tell by the way people had gathered out here and the expressions on their faces that this was not business as usual for the tour.

  Evie bit her lip as Troy made his way back to her.

  “He’s in an ambulance on the way to St Francis Hospital.”

  Evie immediately swiveled on
her heel, heading back the way they’d come.

  “Evie, wait. Where are you going?”

  “To the hospital.” Wasn’t it obvious?

  Troy grabbed her arm to stop her. “They won’t tell you anything.”

  “I’ll make them tell me.”

  “How? You barely know the guy.”

  “We’re sharing a room, Troy, okay?”

  She could tell by the way Troy flinched that he got what she was saying.

  “What the fuck, Evie?” he said, and the look on his face was exactly how she imagined her brother or father would look under similar circumstances.

  “Don’t even think of giving me a lecture on morality or being careful or anything deeply hypocritical like that, okay? Tanner has been amazing to me, and I need to know he’s going to be okay.”

  A muscle flickered in Troy’s jaw. Evie tilted her head and fixed him with a steady, determined gaze, silently conveying her determination. Finally he shook his head and swore under his breath.

  “All right. Fine. You head in to the hospital. I’d come with you but I’ve still got to ride. I’ll call Doc Freeman, see if I can get him to keep you in the loop. He’s probably with Tanner at the hospital, knowing him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Call me if you need anything else, okay?” he said.

  For a moment she was overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude that someone from home—someone she trusted, someone familiar—was here to keep her grounded. She threw her arms around Troy, giving him a quick hug, then disengaged and started for the exit. She’d seen a taxi rank when she arrived at the stadium earlier. Hopefully there would still be some cabs there, even though the show wasn’t due to finish for another hour.

  She got lucky—there was one taxi left in the rank, and she waved to the driver before opening the rear door and sliding inside.

  “St Francis Hospital, please,” she said.

  Thank God she’d gone to an ATM and taken out more US dollars today. One tiny stroke of luck in what was shaping up to be a horrible night.