by Shey Stahl
His gaze studies me intensely, and then he smiles back at me with the power to knock me off my feet. Then he nods and I think I see a wink. I’m far enough away I can’t tell though.
Do I wave? Blow a kiss? No, don’t do that. I smile though. I’m not sure what else to do.
“Who’s that next to him?” Haylee asks. Only I can’t break Grayer’s stare.
“It’s either Reid or Ty since the back of his vest says Easton.”
Grayer’s attention is being demanded beside him, but his gaze remains locked with mine. He smiles, slow and lewd, and then turns to the guy next to him. He’s being called to the chute and I’m thankful I haven’t missed his ride. I’m so excited my bones might as well be buzzing.
When he’s in the chute, he peeks up at me again.
Have you ever seen a boy show off for a girl? It’s entertaining to watch, but you know it’s happening when he gives it his all, knowing she’s watching, just to prove he’s worth it. I have a feeling that’s the case and I couldn’t be more excited to watch him do just that.
The announcer comes over the speakers as “Electric Pow Wow Drum” thumps wildly through my chest. “Currently ranked number one in the Built Ford Tough standings, just a few points ahead of his older brother helping with the flank strap, this next rider is one of the best and he’s proving it. In 2014, he qualified for his first world finals and won it. From Decatur, Texas, Grayer Easton.”
Be still, heart. You’re going crazy.
The crowd roars to life, as do Haylee and I. What catches my attention is the female response to him. It’s clear he’s a fan favorite. My stomach turns, watching and wondering immediately, why me? Look at these girls around me. I bet he has his choice of any of them, yet he asked me to come.
Stop it, Maesyn.
I hate that my nerves are making me think like this because it’s so unlike me.
Grayer throws his leg over the chute and mounts Bushwacker, the bull he drew. He’s wearing his hat, unlike the rider before him who wore a helmet. How rebel of him.
“Easton is coming off an injury in Las Vegas, but he seems tougher than ever. I talked to him in the hallway this afternoon and asked him how he was feeling and if he had a plan for drawing Bushwacker, the same bull who tried to end his career last year.” The announcer laughs. “You know what he said? There’s no game plan but hang on and try. This sport defines what danger means. We play the game and we take the pain.”
I can totally see him saying that. Hear the slow drawl he has and the impact his voice and poetic like words have on me.
“Bushwacker is notorious for throwing riders over his right shoulder. Let’s see if Grayer can hang on.”
I watch as Grayer adjusts the rope, three other guys surrounding him and assisting. The bull beneath him is oddly calm, eerily so that it makes me wonder if they’re all like that. Grayer takes his left hand and wipes it aggressively, over and over again down a rope and then works on wrapping the bull rope around Bushwacker. I have to admit, the motion he makes rubbing his hand on the rope looks strangely erotic and gives my tummy a certain jolt.
The bull beneath Grayer suddenly rears up and the man next to him holds Grayer by his vest to keep him steady. My heart jumps at the danger I’m witnessing. I know bull riding is dangerous, clearly based off personal experience here, but it’s a quick reminder that anytime he gets on a bull, I might forever have this wave of unease washing over me.
Grayer steadies himself when the bull comes down by placing his hands on the bars beside him and then he lowers himself back down to adjust the rope again. When he’s got it where he wants it, his left hand securely tethered to the bull by a rope, he moves forward on the bull so he’s practically on the shoulders.
And then he goes still.
He gives the nod.
The nod.
The bucking chute opens and out barrels a brown and white bull that’s so much larger than the rest of them he looks like a beast. He comes out strong, his back legs kicking out and spinning, his head pitched low to the ground.
“Grayer’s faced Bushwacker six times and Bushwacker has proved his Bull of the Year status and had thirty-six straight buck-offs since then,” the announcer says, the crowd drowning him out as they cheer on Grayer. On the drop, Grayer maintains complete control. I can’t imagine the strength and control it takes to stay on the bull, but after our night together and seeing the way his body moves, I have a pretty good idea how in control Grayer can be.
The buzzer sounds, signifying an eight-second ride and the crowd goes ballistic. Grayer dismounts the bull when he’s midair and lands on his knees about three feet from the bull. My heart pounds, dread washing over me as I watch this. At any minute, that bull can turn on him and charge. That’s not easy to watch.
There’s a silence as he stares up at a board, awaiting his score, and then smiles. That’s when I get a good look at his ass in chaps and I’m not disappointed at all. The back of his vest has his last name and the number fifty-five on it.
“We’ve seen history here, folks!” the announcer says. “How about ninety-five and a quarter?” The crowd roars in response to the score he’s given.
Grayer smiles, removing his hat and waving to the crowd, nodding and clapping to the score he’s awarded. He looks over his shoulder at me as he’s heading to the chute gate and nods. I start laughing. Just a moment later, they show him on the screen being interviewed. “How’s it feel?” they ask when they tell him his score.
His smile is the biggest I’ve seen. “It’s ’bout damn time.”
The reporter laughs, cupping his hand on Grayer’s shoulder. “I said history was made here today, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yeah, I suppose.” He laughs out a rushed breath, still trying to catch up with the adrenaline. “I got my revenge on him.”
Haylee and I sit down in our seats for the first time since we arrived. “This is awesome,” she says, all smiles. “And so freaking hot. How did we not know about this?”
“It definitely is.”
It’s another hour into the show and I can tell they’re almost done for the night. That’s when a tall blonde approaches us with a little blond-haired boy on her hip. “I’m Britany. Are you Maesyn Calhoun?” She looks at me, smiling. She reminds me of something out of a magazine, but still simple and down-to-earth. Tight stone-washed jeans and a black shirt that matches her cowboy boots.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, nodding. “I am.”
She gestures toward the stairs. “Grayer’s waiting for you guys. He told me to bring you back.”
Practically shaking, I stand immediately, as does Haylee. “Okay.”
She leads us down a long hallway and then into a room where there are about ten bull riders either standing against walls or sitting on the floor. It appears to be some sort of locker room, maybe, or waiting area.
I spot his hat first, then him. He’s standing with his back to the wall, staring down at his bull rope and glove in his hand. I think he senses my presence, or it’s Haylee’s slow whistle that captures his attention. Either way, our eyes lock and he gives me that once over. Starting at my boots, all the way to my face. He drinks in my every curve at the same time I look over him. He’s wearing a black shirt splattered with dirt and logos from sponsors, leather chaps, dark jeans, and those same cowboy boots he wore back in Ellensburg. He looks delicious and I have a hard time just standing there and not running to him.
Would it be too much to run and jump into his arms?
Probably.
He pulls in a breath but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he’s happy to see me, as if my presence here has immediately improved his mood. Not that he is in a bad mood, just that it’s better.
“Hey.” His eyes smile when he speaks, stepping toward me.
“Hey.” I want to immediately reach out and touch him, but I don’t. I wait.
“You came.”
“I did.” I can’t help myself and press my palm to his chest. His he
art’s pounding under my hand and it sends mine racing too. “I wasn’t finished with you, Eight Seconds,” I whisper.
He smiles again, and it’s the only gesture I need. If I wanted reassurance for coming, I have it now. He leans forward so our faces are close, his breath blowing over me and I’m afraid of what he might say to me. “Nice shirt.” He smiles, tugging at the bottom of it.
“Thanks.” I swat his hand away, trying to hide the flush of my cheeks.
He lets me know by the arch of his brow and the slow grin forming he’s looking forward to tonight. With me. “Does your daddy know you’re here?”
I laugh, shaking my head about the same time Haylee laughs too. “No. Snuck out of town.”
He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and I watch with rapt attention as he glides it over his lower lip. And then he winks at me. “Such a rebel.” He steps closer. “It’s a three-night show. You got a hotel room?”
“Not yet.” I take a breath, trying to calm my heart.
“You can room with me and Ty if you want,” he says, like this isn’t a problem.
A bed. With Grayer. Yes, please.
“Who’s the girl?” A man to his left asks when Grayer steps back.
Grayer turns to face him, then looks over his shoulder at me. “These are my brothers. This is Reid.” He motions to the taller one with the darker brown hair and bright blue eyes who just spoke and then nods to the shorter one, who looks a lot like Dani. Same hair and eyes as his brother, but looking at them it’s clear he and Dani must take after their mom. “And this is Ty.” He then shoves Reid backward into the wall. He’s certainly rough. “He’s taken. . . .” And then he reaches for Ty by the front of his vest and gives him a push toward Haylee, smiling. “But he’s not.”
Haylee wraps her arm in Ty’s. “I’m the single friend looking for a bull rider.”
“Well then.” Ty grins. “You came to the right place.”
Reid grabs his bag and then Britany’s hand. “You boys ready? I need a drink.”
I look at Haylee and then Grayer. “We’re not twenty-one.” I feel ridiculous saying that, as though speaking my age suddenly makes me younger than I am.
“So?” Grayer gives me a look like I shouldn’t be worried.
“You’re going to a bar? We can’t get in.”
“No one will ask.” He reaches for my hand, confidence bleeding through his words. “You’re with me.”
I’m with him? I most certainly am.
And then I’m hit with something I didn’t see coming. That little blond-haired boy who had been on Britany’s hip. He comes running up to Grayer yelling, “Daddy, win. Daddy, win.”
Grayer had won overall tonight, but what gets me, sends my heart sailing in a direction I didn’t see coming is that the little boy is calling Grayer Daddy.
My eyes widen and lock on Grayer’s.
He waits for my reaction, and then picks up the little boy and holds him. The boy smiles at me and it’s pretty clear Grayer’s the boy’s dad. He touches the boy’s chest with his fingertips. He wiggles and laughs. “This is Wyatt.”
Before I can say anything, a woman rushes up to him. “Sorry, guys, he got away from me when he saw Grayer.”
“It’s all right,” Britany assures her, only to have Grayer shoot her a dirty look. I can’t read his face. I can’t tell if he’s upset or confused, or what’s happening, but his gaze is locked on me.
The boy disappears with the girl holding a bag over her shoulder. I don’t say anything. He . . . has a kid? With who? Oh shit, what if he’s married?
No. Fuck no. This isn’t happening.
I think he notices the rush of confusion on my face. Grayer steps forward, his hand on my shoulder, then sliding down my arm to my hand. He holds it. “He’s . . . my son.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat. My eyes shoot to Haylee, who’s watching with rapt attention, as is everyone else. I turn my heated apprehension back to the man I might not know at all. “Are you . . .” I pause and clear my throat. “Please tell me you’re not married.”
“No.” He laughs, lightly, but I can tell it’s a nervous laugh. “I’m not married and don’t have a girlfriend. Just a kid.”
I step closer, unsure of what’s happening. Everyone around us loses interest, but I sense Britany’s eyes on me, she too, is waiting for my reaction. “So the mom?” And then I wait to see what he’s going to say next.
His eyes dart from mine, to Britany, then back. My stomach flips. Waiting. “B’s his mom, but we’re not together anymore.”
“How old is he?”
His jaw’s tight, a certain grit to his voice. “Two.” He lets out a breath I didn’t realize he was holding. “I really did mean to tell you, but I wasn’t sure when to bring it up.”
I nod, because I can understand why he didn’t, in part, and then the other part of me is kind of unsure about it all.
“Is it a deal breaker?” He looks broken, terrified even that I might say no.
“You’re not with her anymore?”
Grayer shakes his head. “No. It’s kind of a complicated situation to explain, but we were friends and you know,” his voice drops even lower, “it just sort of happened and she’s with Reid now. And happy.”
Again, all I do is nod. Haylee bumps me from behind. “Let’s get out of here. We can talk at the bar, right?” She looks to Grayer. “You can get us in there?”
“I can.” His eyes don’t leave mine. “You coming?”
I wait. I’m being silly letting this get to me, because it’s clear his intention was never to lie to me. He just didn’t know when to tell me, and that I can definitely understand. I reach for his hand. “Let’s get a drink, Eight Seconds.”
Relief washes over him, his smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He motions down the long hallway. “Lead the way, honey.”
On the way to the bar, Grayer has me ride with him in a separate car from everyone else. Haylee goes with Ty, Reid, and Britany. I’m still on a high from what I’ve seen during the bull riding, but also, I’m so confused. Being here, Grayer, it’s nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Any of this. “Is it as hard as it looks?”
“What?” He’s got one hand on my knee, the other on the steering wheel of the truck he’s driving. It’s brand-new, probably a rental, or maybe his truck he usually drives. I don’t know. It’s pretty clear I don’t know much about him at all. My eyes catch the stereo, bright red, blue, and green lights displaying the song. It’s “John Deere Green” by Joe Diffie. Grayer reaches forward, twisting the volume down a few notches.
“Bull riding,” I say, unsure if that’s what I’m really asking.
He laughs, the action shaking both of us because I’m sitting right beside him, refusing to allow any space between us. “Yeah, it’s tough competition. Bushwacker performed tonight, but you never know if the bull you draw is going to. You can be as good as you can be, but it’s never easy.”
“Why do you do it?”
“The rush. It’s unlike anything in the world. The adrenaline . . . it’s fuckin’ incredible.”
I smile. He’s giving me a little more insight into him. Clearing my throat, I straighten my posture before addressing the elephant in the truck. “So, Wyatt . . . I um, wow. Wasn’t expecting that.”
He nods, the look on his face indescribable. “I know you weren’t and I’m sorry. That was a dick move. I just . . . I wasn’t thinking, and I got caught up in wanting to see you again. It wasn’t until I was on my way home that I thought about what it might mean to have you come here . . . and everything with Wyatt.” He pauses and shrugs, so much tension in his shoulders.
“I get why you didn’t say anything. I just wanted to know there wasn’t something where I needed to worry about the mom, or, you know. . . .” My voice fades, unsure. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”
His hand on my knee tightens. “Britany and I don’t feel that way about each other. She’s his mom, and absolutely a great pers
on, but we’re not together and she’s not going to make you feel weird about it.”
I sneak a peek at him, lifting my eyes slowly over to his. “Does she know about me?”
His eyes pierce my soul, so bright, just like his presence in my life at a much-needed time. “She does. I told her about you that first night.” Taking my hand, he brings it to his lips. “I’m glad you came.”
“I am too.” I think. “Did you guys try to make it work after he was born?”
He raises an eyebrow, like he’s done with the questions, but still answering them. “No. I mean, I thought about it. It would have been the right thing to do. But it’s better this way. We’re better off friends or it wasn’t going to work at all.”
“That’s actually noble of you guys.”
He shrugs. “It’s about Wyatt and what’s best for him. He didn’t ask for this and all that matters is that he’s taken care of.”
The after party at the bar is about ten miles from the arena and Grayer’s right, they don’t question our age. We’re with professional bull riders and it’s clear they’re never questioned once people find out who they are. It’s also something where it’s an after party put on by the event sponsor, so I suppose to some degree they were expecting them.
As soon as we enter that bar, it’s like I’m in another world. Around a hundred people surround a dance floor, some dancing, some drinking, others simply relaxing. With a firm grasp on my hand, Grayer leads me through the throngs of people to a more private corner of the bar. Haylee, Ty, Britany, and Reid follow.
Without asking for them, longneck beers are delivered directly to the table. Grayer hands me one. “Thirsty?”
I nod, taking the beer, unable to keep my hands from shaking. It’s all so surreal that I’m here with him. It’s like I’m some kind of groupie that’s been asked backstage. When I sit down, Grayer stands. “I’ll be right back.”
He takes a step in the other direction toward a man who just walked by. They must know each other because they immediately strike up a conversation.