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“I’ll be in Cheyenne in two weeks, and then Nashville mid-August,” Tristan told him.
“I’ll take it. And then come January, I want to fly someplace warm and have non-stop, sun-drenched sex with you for two weeks straight.”
Tristan raised her eyebrow. “Straight?”
“Eatin’ and sleepin’ will be the only allowable interruptions.”
“You’re on, Bullet. But don’t forget there’s a couple of other important rodeo weeks in between.”
“That’s if I qualify.”
There were the Professional Bull Riders World Finals, in Las Vegas, in October, and then the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association National Finals, also in Las Vegas, in December. Tristan would be at both, with Lost Cowboy and the new McCullough lines. Bullet would be at both too. Even if he didn’t qualify as a rider, he’d be there with Flying R Rough Stock.
It was unlikely Tristan would be able to see him in September. She’d be showing at least two of the McCullough lines at the fall shows. Every minute between now and then, when she wasn’t at one of the bigger rodeos, she’d be working twenty-hour days to have the collections ready.
“I’m gonna miss you so damn much,” he said for the hundredth time.
“I’m going to miss you too, but we’ll both be so busy, the time will pass quickly.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Nope.”
“That makes me feel a little better.”
Tristan checked the time on her phone. Her father and grandfather would be getting anxious soon. They were at the gate, waiting to board the flight that would take them back to New York. It was due to take off in twenty minutes, and she wasn’t through security yet.
“Bullet, I have to go.”
“Just one more kiss.”
One more turned into ten, until Tristan finally pulled away and ran in the direction of security. As it was, she was the last person to board the flight, and they’d held the door open because her father insisted she was on her way. He wasn’t very happy with her the rest of the way home. Gramps just smiled and winked.
“Quite a series of shindigs you invited us to, Tristan,” he said once she was in her seat.
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
He smiled and nodded. “I sure did.”
Tristan really didn’t have to ask. Gramps and Bullet’s grandmother had spent a lot of time together. He even served as her date for the PRCA Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony. He’d looked so proud, that night, anyone would’ve thought the two were a married couple.
The initial pieces in the McCullough Cowgirl collection sold out at the first show Tristan attended. Liv and Paige flew to New York to help Tristan find factories able to expand production. It would’ve been easier if they could outsource to China, or somewhere else overseas, but Tristan and her investors agreed that the brand would be made in America, or not made at all.
Bullet insisted that the only way to ensure his streak of covering bulls continued, was to talk to Tristan before and after each out. He’d ridden fourteen bulls consecutively. Two more and he’d tied J.B. Mauney and Silvano Alves, who had each ridden sixteen consecutive times.
As Buck Bishop had predicted, Bullet would almost certainly qualify for the PBR finals this month. If he managed that, competing at the NFR would be a sure thing.
“Where did this guy come from? No one heard of him before this year,” Tristan would hear the commentators ask when she watched the broadcasts. “Not until Buck Bishop started training him,” they’d usually add.
She streamed every competition he entered, on her computer. If he knew he was on camera, he’d blow a kiss.
“You see me blow you a kiss tonight, darlin’?” he’d ask. Her answer was always yes, because she never missed watching him ride.
Before she knew it, it was October. In just a few days, she’d be in Las Vegas for a whole week, and so would Bullet. They’d both have a lot of work to do; her, presenting her line and Bullet, riding bulls and helping Flying R when he could, but they’d spend every night together.
Lyric offered to pick Tristan up at McCarran Airport since Bullet had a mandatory riders’ meeting.
“You have a press conference at three,” she told her.
“I do?”
“Yeah, you do, and you know why? Because you have the best damn PR person in the business. How else are you gonna let everyone know how the launch of McCullough Cowgirl and Cowboy have gone?”
Tristan smiled, but inside, she wondered when she might have a chance to see Bullet. Would it be this way the whole time they were in Las Vegas?
Lyric smiled. “You’ll have time to see him in between.”
“Thanks.” Tristan smiled too. “I’d hoped I would.”
“You two gettin’ serious?”
“I think so.” It was hard to say they were serious; they hardly saw one another. But once January rolled around, they could take some time to figure out where they wanted their relationship to go. It wasn’t as though things would change much once the rodeo season kicked off again in the spring, but there were plenty of other couples who figured it out, including most of the Flying R partners.
“Speaking of which,” said Lyric. “I heard a rumor that Bullet was going to be offered a buy-in.”
“From who?”
“I got my sources.”
Tristan guessed it was Billy who told Lyric. “Does Bullet know?”
“Nope. They’re makin’ him the offer at the end of the week, here in Las Vegas.”
“Will he be able to do it?”
“You mean financially?”
“Basically. Is it bad of me to ask?”
Lyric laughed. “Who’s gonna judge you, girl? Me?”
Tristan laughed too. Lyric asked whatever she wanted to ask, whenever she wanted to.
“He’ll be able to do it. Bullet’s loaded.”
“Since when?”
“You haven’t been keepin’ track of his earnings so far this year, have you?”
She hadn’t. He’d tell her where he ranked each week, but they hadn’t talked about the money he’d won. Not to mention the additional sponsorships he was being offered as he climbed higher in ride earnings.
“Speak of the devil.”
Tristan turned around, thinking Lyric was talking about Bullet, but instead she saw Harris Jones near the luggage carousels.
“Why does he keep showin’ up? He didn’t come close to qualifyin’ this year.”
Tristan didn’t know. She’d stopped paying attention a long time ago. She hoped he’d keep walking and not notice she was there.
“Tristan, I thought that was you.”
Something was different about him. He wasn’t as cocky, and he didn’t look well.
“Harris, are you ill?”
He didn’t answer right away, and Tristan thought he might just ignore her question and walk away.
“I been busy,” he finally said. He glanced at Lyric. “You still with her brother?”
“You’re damn right she is—”
“Look, uh, Lyric…that’s your name, right?”
“Yeah, that’s my name.”
“Could you give me a minute with Tristan? It’s important.”
There was something about the tone of his voice and the way he looked, that made Tristan feel sorry for him. She could take five minutes to talk to him.
Lyric shook her head and glared at Harris. “I’ll be stayin’ right here, listenin’.”
“What’s going on?” Tristan asked him.
When Harris reached out to touch her, she backed away. “I hate that you won’t let me touch you,” he sighed.
“It’s your own fault.”
“I know it is. But, Tristan, I’m not lyin’ when I say I want you back. It’s more than that. I need you.”
“You don’t need me; you don’t need anyone. Permanently, that is. Rodeos are full of women willing to give you just about anything you want—”
> “It isn’t what I want. It’s what I need. Ever since we broke up, I can’t get a decent ride for anything. You were my good luck charm, Tristan. When we were together, I rode better than I have any other time in my life.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. I need you to give me another chance.”
“Harris, I can’t. And I don’t want to. There was a time you had my heart, but you stomped on it and threw it away. There’s no going back for us.”
“Tristan, I’m in trouble. I piled up some debt, thinkin’ I’d be able to make it up once rodeo season kicked in again. I haven’t been able to…”
“I’m sorry you’re in trouble, but that isn’t my fault or my problem. If you’re in debt, get a job. Most bull riders have a day job, Harris. You always thought you were above it, but clearly you’re just as human as the rest of us.”
When Tristan walked away, he grabbed her arm. “Wait.”
She jerked it away from him. “Keep your hands off me.” The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and bile burned her throat.
“You heard her.” Lyric stepped between Tristan and Harris. “Keep your filthy hands off her.”
Harris leaned in as close to Lyric as he could get. “You and your brother can’t keep me away from her forever. His world is about to come crashing down, and when it does, I’ll be there for her.”
Lyric backed away, but didn’t turn or take her eyes off Harris until she was several feet from him.
“What did he say to you?”
“That Bullet’s world was about to come crashing down.”
“Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s in some kind of trouble. He thinks I’m his good luck charm or some other ridiculous nonsense.”
“Let’s go find my brother.”
Bullet waited by the front entrance to the hotel, hoping this was the way they’d come in. Every time a cab approached, he looked to see if Tristan and Lyric were in it. He wished he could’ve been the one to pick Tristan up at the airport, but he would’ve been disqualified if he’d missed the riders’ meeting.
Another cab drove up to the valet. It looked to Bullet as though only one person was in it. That wouldn’t be them. He was about to turn away when the door opened and out stepped Harris Jones—the one guy he never wanted to see again in his life.
He expected a confrontation, but instead Harris acted as though he didn’t see Bullet. Fine by him. A few minutes later, when the cab Tristan and Lyric were in pulled up, he forgot all about seeing the guy who was fast becoming his nemesis.
Bullet opened the door and offered his hand to help Tristan out of the car. When she took it, electricity sizzled between them, as it usually did.
Tristan dropped her bag on the ground, next to the cab, and put her arms around his neck. Nothing felt as good as having her next to him, body to body. It had been almost six weeks since the last time he saw her, and his body reacted instinctively. He hoped Lyric wouldn’t mind if they went straight to the room he’d reserved.
“Hi.” He breathed in her scent. It was soft, like baby powder. He looked into her deep, soft eyes. Felt her equally soft breasts pressed up against him. Her softness in contrast to his hardness drove him wild. One whiff of her scent, and he wanted to take her straight to bed.
“Hi,” she smiled.
“It’s so damn good to see you. And feel you.”
“You too.”
“Think Lyric would mind if we…”
“Not at all. Look.” Tristan pointed near the door. King West was walking toward Lyric with the same look on his face that Bullet had a few minutes before.
“We have a lot to talk about,” he said in the crowded elevator.
“We do?”
“Yes, we do.”
Bullet led the way to the room, but kept turning around to kiss her. The fourth time he stopped, she asked him how much farther it was. He looked at the numbers on the door and realized they’d passed the room. They both laughed, but the heat between them didn’t dissipate.
Bullet opened the door and dropped her luggage. “You can unpack later.”
“I’d like to take a quick shower. You know, the plane ride…”
“Uh. Sure. Okay.” She was probably tired from traveling, and here, all he could think about was her, naked, and him inside of her. She was here with him, and they had at least ten days ahead of them. He could be patient.
He stretched out on the bed and took off his socks, shoving them into his worn cowboy boots he’d set by the side of the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt but still felt uncomfortable. He wanted to unbutton the top button of his jeans, but then, what would she think?
He stood and shoved his boots in the mirrored closet, where he couldn’t miss his own arousal in the reflection. He stretched out on the bed again and turned on the television, hoping the din of a mindless infomercial would distract him from the sound of running water in the bathroom.
When the water stopped, Bullet stopped breathing, waiting for the door to open. Would she wrap herself in the hotel robe he’d seen behind the door? Would she step out of the steamy room already dressed?
When she finally opened the door and rounded the corner, her sweet body was wrapped only in a towel. Bullet groaned, and Tristan let the towel drop to the floor.
She hadn’t taken the time to dry the dewy wetness that beaded on her skin. Bullet stared at her, unsure whether he dare move and break the spell of her standing naked before him.
“Stay where you are,” she told him as she strolled toward the bed, seating herself on the mattress with her hip next to his.
“Are you, uh, hungry or anything?”
Tristan rested her hand on his bare chest. “No. Not hungry. Why don’t you take the rest of your clothes off?”
Bullet leaned forward and shrugged his arms out of the shirt he’d left unbuttoned.
Both her hands came forward, resting on his shoulders, easing him back. They trailed slowly over his abdomen, to the waistband of his jeans. When she leaned against him and brushed her cheek against the line of hair that ran from his navel to where her hand crept, he groaned again. “Tristan…”
Without a reply, she unsnapped his jeans. Bullet shuddered as her touch skimmed over his boxer briefs. “Time to take these off too.”
Bullet wrapped his hand in her hair. “Wait.”
“I don’t want to wait, Bullet.” She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes soft, but heavily lidded.
“Let me get these off.” Bullet pulled his jeans and briefs down in one swoop and tossed them aside.
He caught her around the waist and turned her until she rested against the mattress where he’d been moments before. “God damn, woman. What you do to me.” He moved over her until he could feel her naked skin against his.
“Bullet.”
Moments ago all he could see in his mind was himself in a frenzy, getting inside her as quickly as he could. Now, he wanted to take his time, make her feel as desperate for him as he felt for her.
He took her mouth with his, slow and deep. When she moaned, he scattered soft kisses on her ribs, moved down, and dipped his tongue in her navel. He breathed deeply, loving that her natural scent was overpowering the smell of soap from her shower.
Tristan tangled her fingers in the sheets and pulled at them, as though she was pulling at him to hurry. He looked to the side and saw the reflection of their bodies in the mirrored closet door.
“Look,” he told her.
When she did, she spotted the condom he left on the bedside table. She ripped it open with her teeth and handed it to him. She came up on her elbows, but fell back when he moved over her.
Her broken cry echoed through the spacious hotel room when he slid inside her. Her hands flew to his shoulders, the nails digging in as she tried to urge him closer, faster.
“I take what I want, remember that.” Bullet kept his pace slow and even. Her body arched, and she turned her head to the side. “Look at me, Tristan. I need to see your fac
e.” Her eyes met his, and her body shivered. “That’s it, darlin’. Come for me.”
Teeth clenched, muscles straining, Bullet held off as long as he could, but seeing that look on her face, the one he was addicted to, did him in.
He rolled onto his back and brought her up next to him.
“You’re such a cuddler,” she teased.
“Tristan, I…”
“Shh. It’s okay. We don’t have to talk right now.”
But he wanted to. When her eyes met his, right there, he knew he’d never love anyone the way he loved Tristan. Heart and soul. Forever and ever. But she still wasn’t ready to hear it.
He had a few hours before he had to head over to the Thomas and Mack Center for the first round of bull riding. Maybe he’d close his eyes for a few minutes.
He was snoring. Tristan couldn’t believe it. Bullet never snored. He sounded so cute. The more time she spent with him, the more she realized she’d actually fallen in love with him. The time they were apart, the distance between them, had made her think she just missed him. But being with him now, watching him as he slept so soundly, made obvious what she couldn’t see before.
Thinking about leaving in just a few days and being apart until December, she wasn’t sure how she’d stand it. Maybe she should invite him to her family’s Thanksgiving dinner. But he probably wouldn’t want to be away from his family. And what about his kids? Surely he’d want to be with them too. She couldn’t ask that he take his children away from their grandparents for such a special holiday.
She rested her head back on his chest and listened to his heart beating. Soon it lulled her to sleep too.
“Beep, beep, beep.” Bullet woke and looked around for his phone. “Beep, beep, beep.” The sound would get louder the longer it took him to figure out where the hell he’d left it.
Tristan rolled over. “What is that?”
“The alarm on my phone.”
She sat up in bed. “What time is it?”
“Two.” He had an hour to shower, shave, and get to the arena for check-in. Oh, and he was also supposed to meet Buck Bishop fifteen minutes early.
Win Me Over (Cowboys of Crested Butte Book 5) Page 23