Rodeo Heat

by Desiree Holt

Grace fell in love the minute they stepped through the back door to the area where the animals were kept. One long section was divided into stalls for horses, while another held the bulls that had been specially bred for competition and the calves for the roping and cutting events. The area on both sides of the arena had metal bar fencing set up, sections locked together in the required configurations. Grace noticed both hallways led directly to the main area where a system of pens had been constructed.

  “Those are the chutes,” Ben told her, following her gaze. “That’s where the calves are herded before being let loose into the ring, where the riders wait for the gate to open and where they bring each bull or bronc for the rider to mount up.”

  Grace tried to take in as much as possible of the explosion of noise and color and movement. Watching the activity around her, she saw how easily rodeo life easily get into someone’s blood. The sights, the sounds, the aromas. The magnificent animals, everything from the horses to the little calves used in the roping events. The sizzle of adrenaline in the air.

  Every place she looked, people were moving in what seemed like chaos, but what she realized was actually some kind of choreographed dance, where everyone knew their place and their steps. Unlike the people in the big room where the food was sold, these people—both men and women—were in worn jeans, T-shirts or shirts with the sleeves rolled up past their elbows, and scuffed boots that had seen a lot of wear.

  “These are the backbone of the rodeo,” Ben continued. “Most of them are former rodeo competitors who retired for one reason or another. Their experience gives them a good understanding of what needs to be done to make things work.”

  “I don’t see any of the other riders back here,” she told him, peering around.

  He chuckled. “There’s a lot of us here, but everyone leaves their fancy duds in their lockers while they prep for the evening’s events.”

  Grace inhaled the mingled scents of animals, humans, straw and leather, the aroma stirring her blood like some exotic cologne. She felt the same whisper of excitement that had streaked through her the first time she’d been to the circus, or seen the famous Lipizzaner horses perform.

  “Oh, Ben.” She turned to him, clutching his arm. “This is fantastic. No wonder you love this life so much.”

  He laughed at her enthusiasm. “You might think differently if you were on the back of one of those mad bulls, or chasing disobedient calves. Or riding an ornery bronc trying to buck you off.”

  “I’ve never even ridden a horse,” she admitted shyly.

  “No? Maybe we’ll come down here during the day and I can give you a slow walk on Hotshot. We’ll see.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on. I have to get busy.”

  They wound through groups of people, many of them nodding to Ben, smiling or waving hello as they moved down the walkway between the horse stalls. Halfway down the row, they stopped where a horse peeked over a gate, big eyes watching them with curiosity. As soon as Ben approached, he nickered softly and rubbed his muzzle against the man’s palm.

  “Hey, boy,” Ben said softly. “Got someone here for you to meet. If you’re very nice to her, you might get a little treat.” He reached out and drew Grace closer. “This is Grace, and she’s someone pretty special to me. Say hello to her.”

  The horse bobbed his head up and down and made the same noise he’d greeted Ben with.

  Grace laughed with delight. “You’re right. He thinks he’s a person.”

  “Go ahead,” Ben urged. “Reach out slowly and rub his forehead. He loves it.”

  Grace extended her hand tentatively and when the horse pushed his head against her palm and made a small noise of satisfaction, she relaxed and rubbed the mottled skin.

  “He’s a sweetheart,” she cried. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one with a spotted coat like this.”

  The horse, big and with a broad conformation, had a leopard-spotted coat, white and roan, with large white circles around his eyes.

  Ben fished a cube of sugar from his pocket and held it out to Hotshot on his open palm. “He’s an Appaloosa. The Nez Perce Indians used them and the breed almost died out when most of them were slaughtered at the end of the Nez Perce War.”

  “But that’s terrible.” Grace was shocked at something so senseless.

  “No kidding. But there were a few left and some dedicated people worked very hard to regenerate the breed. Because they’re so big and strong, they make excellent cutting horses and are used a lot in ranch work.”

  “So, he’ll go to Wyoming with you?” She hated to think of that. Ben would leave, finish the current rodeo circuit then head northwest and she’d probably never see him again. Telling herself it was all for the best didn’t help one bit. This was just supposed to be a wild fling, an exciting, sensual adventure beyond anything she could imagine. Something she’d enjoy then get over quickly. How have I left my defenses down this way?

  “Absolutely. I’m counting on him to set an example for the other horses I’ll need to train.” He rubbed Hotshot’s muzzle. “Right, boy?” He turned again to Grace. “We’ve been through a lot together, Hotshot and me. I guess we’ll finish going down the road together.”

  Ben opened the gate and walked into the stall, urging the horse back away from the opening, then ran his hands over him, feeling him for any scrapes or other areas of injury. He examined the horse’s hooves and fetlocks then checked his legs.

  “Sometimes he gets a little too rambunctious out in the arena,” Ben explained. “He collects some ‘souvenirs’ that don’t show up until the next day. But he seems just fine.” Closing the gate again, he tugged Grace farther down the corridor with him. “I need to check and see what time my events are tonight and where I am in the lineup.”

  “What are you riding in tonight?”

  “Hotshot and I are in the calf roping. Then I’m in the bull riding semifinals.”

  “Semifinals?”

  “Yeah. The top eight make it to the finals two nights from now,” he went on.

  Grace‘s stomach dropped. She’d seen Ben twice on those angry monsters, and both times she’d held her breath until he was safely off and away.

  “What then?” She felt idiotic knowing so little about the thing that had really shaped this man standing next to her. This was what he was a product of and now she was trying to understand it so she could place him more comfortably in her mind.

  And making things too complicated, idiot. Just enjoy yourself. Now and…later.

  He shrugged. “We’ll talk about that when it happens. Right now, I’m focusing on tonight.”

  “I think I’m afraid to watch you on the bulls,” she confessed. “They’re so…big and, oh, I don’t know, angry.”

  “That’s the way they’re bred,” he explained. He put his arm around her and drew her close. “I won’t tell you it’s safe,” he said, “but it’s as safe as the rodeos can make it. They have spotters watching and the clowns that distract the bulls are very well-trained.”

  Just the same, Grace couldn’t control an involuntary shiver.

  “Come on,” Ben said. “I’ll introduce you to the handlers. These guys know what they’re doing, believe me.”

  Danny Perez was checking the setup of the pens, giving orders to a crew as to how he wanted them placed and checking all the locking mechanisms. He looked to be at least fifty years old, tall and lean and weathered, with a blinding smile.

  “Danny rodeo’d for fifteen years,” Ben said by way of introduction. “Then decided to help the rest of us still getting our brains beat out. He’s extra good with the bulls.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” He stuck out his hand and Grace shook it, feeling its hard and calloused surface.

  “I heard you talking,” he said. “These bulls are specially bred by rodeo stockmen who do nothing else. Most of them are former rodeo riders, too. The rodeos contracts with them and they move the stock from show to show.”

  “The animals buck because they don’t like the weight of t
he rider on their backs,” Ben added. “The flank strap”—he picked one up from a nearby rail and held it up—“exerts pressure, like a saddle girth, but doesn’t hurt the bulls at all.”

  Danny’s grin split his weathered face. “And your man here is one of the best riders I’ve ever seen. You don’t need to worry about him.”

  She started to tell Danny that Ben was only hers temporarily but decided it would involve too much explanation. Instead, she followed Ben to where the program sheet for the night was tacked up on a bulletin board. His events were fourth and seventh and he was the fifth entrant in each of them.

  Next, he led her into a tack room, to a section with his name in a slot, where he examined his gear with meticulous attention. And finally, they ended up in a locker room where he did the same with his boots, spurs and the outfit he’d wear that evening. She noticed a belt with a wide, fancy buckle and asked about it.

  “Won the buckle at the Nationals in Las Vegas.” He said it in an offhand manner, as if it didn’t really matter.

  “But that’s incredible.” Grace reached out her hand and ran her fingers over the engraved metal. “Why don’t you wear it more often? I thought… I mean, according to Melanie, this is a really big deal.”

  He snorted. “Melanie would certainly think so. She’s a charter member of the buckle bunnies club.”

  “But—”

  “Forget it, Grace. I’m not like the guys who wear it day and night. It just meant a big paycheck to me. That’s all.”

  Case closed.

  “Want some coffee?” He looked at his watch. “We’ve got a little time before I have to get ready.”

  “Sure. That would be nice.”

  They wound their way through the maze to a back door into the main food area. Just like the first night Grace had been there, the place was jammed and loud conversation filled the air. People were laughing, talking, shouting back and forth to each other. Grace was waiting while Ben paid for their coffee when she heard someone call her name.

  “Grace? Honey, is that you?”

  She turned to find Melanie Keyes hurrying toward her. Much as she loved the woman, she also sensed a third degree coming. She sighed.

  “Hi, Melanie.”

  Help me, Ben.

  Melanie slid her glance toward Ben. “I see you decided to take my advice.”

  Grace tried to figure an easy way out of this, but Ben turned just at that moment.

  “If your advice was to spend her time with me,” he drawled, “then you have my thanks.” He handed Grace one of the coffee cups. “You’ll have to excuse us. We have some things to do before my first event.”

  He put his arm around Grace and guided her through the mob to the door they’d used to enter.

  “Thank you,” she breathed, when he closed it behind him.

  “I didn’t think you were in the mood to play Twenty Questions with Melanie. I sure wasn’t. I thanked her for introducing us but the rest of it…”

  “Belongs to us,” she finished. She wished she knew what the rest of it actually was. Then she gave herself a mental shake. Ben Lowell was not the kind of man she could handle long- term. Short-term was enough of a struggle.

  Enjoy it now. You don’t want any more out of this than he does.

  Deliberately, she brushed stray thoughts from her mind, determined that nothing would damage the warm, relaxed mood of the day.

  Ben watched the first couple of events with her in the staging area. They stood well to the side of the activity, leaning on metal fencing, listening to the crowd roar and applaud. Ben gave her a thumbnail history of each entrant and explained the rules of the events. It was a lot different to watching from a seat in the arena.

  “I could get addicted to this,” she told him.

  He hugged her gently. “Just make sure you don’t get addicted to another rodeo cowboy.”

  “Fat chance,” she told him. “I can barely handle the one I’ve got.”

  Then it was time for Ben to get ready. He turned Grace over to Danny, who found her a seat perched on a metal fence, out of harm’s way but still with a view of the arena. She barely paid attention to what was going on as she kept her eyes on the place where Ben would enter on Hotshot.

  And there he was, in jeans, hand-tooled boots and a western shirt with a cowboy twirling a lariat embroidered on it. She could tell at once he was completely focused on what he was about to do, so she mentally blew him a kiss, not wanting to distract him.

  He led Hotshot into the pen, waiting for the announcement, the bell to ring and the gate to open. When it did, he flew into the arena, chasing the calves that had been turned loose from another pen. He was fluid grace, he and the horse moving as one as he spun the rope, let it fly and watched it drop over the horns of a calf. Hotshot pulled up at once, Ben leaped from the saddle, bound the calf’s hooves with the rope as required then raised his hands to show he was finished.

  Grace didn’t know much about times, but from the cheer that went up when Ben’s was announced, she gathered he’d done very well. Danny turned to her from his place hanging on a rail and grinned.

  “Your man’s in first place so far. He could win big points tonight.”

  “What happens then?” she asked.

  “He gets tonight’s purse, plus he carries those points to the Nationals in Las Vegas.” He winked. “Lots of bucks there.”

  And another step closer to his ranch.

  She tried not to fidget waiting for the bull riding. She knew she wouldn’t see Ben before the event was called. He’d be in the back, away from distractions, gathering himself for the ride. Danny kept checking on her to make sure she was all right and she gave him reassuring smiles.

  When the bull riding was announced, Grace could almost feel the adrenaline level rise in the arena. Bodies shifted, tension wrapped itself around everyone and the crowd seemed to hold a collective breath.

  Grace found she was holding hers, too. Her fingers inadvertently tightened into fists and she stared again down the corridor, watching for Ben to come striding forward. She barely paid attention to the first four contestants, although the snorting and pawing of each bull as he was let into the chute awaiting the rider made butterflies tumble in her stomach.

  Then he was there, his long, lean muscular body nothing less than coiled energy, his eyes focused on the bucking bull Danny and another man were readying.

  When Ben climbed onto the side rails of the chute, she reminded herself he’d been doing this for a long time and knew exactly how to handle himself. She continued to hold her breath as he readied himself to take his place on the animal stomping the ground below him. With the men on either side assisting him, he lowered himself onto the broad back of the bull, wound the rope around his hand and flexed his other fist. Then he nodded, one of the men signaled to the announcer, the gate flew open and the bull charged out onto the dirt floor, doing his best to dislodge Ben from his back.

  Grace couldn’t move, nearly biting through her bottom lip as she watched him hang on for the ride, one arm out as required, legs moving in a familiar rhythm she’d seen the other bull riders use. He was poetry in motion, a symphony of grace, totally in control despite the bull’s best efforts. It was easy to see why he’d won so many events. Excitement raced through her body. Her nipples throbbed and moisture flooded her crotch. How could she be so turned on just watching a man riding a bull?

  She was sure it was the longest eight seconds she’d ever lived through. When the bell rang, Ben threw himself from the bull, rolling and landing on his feet, careful to keep away from the flying hooves. The rodeo clowns raced into the arena and did their thing to distract the animal until he could be contained.

  When Ben’s score was announced, the audience screamed and stamped its feet, the noise filling the arena and echoing off the high ceiling.

  “He’s got the best time,” Danny yelled to her. “He’s the only one who lasted the full eight seconds, plus he didn’t lose points in style. He did it just righ
t. He’ll be in the finals. And he’s gonna win. You bet your ass.”

  A combination of fear and exhilaration raced through Grace’s blood. She leaped off her perch, nearly falling to the dirt floor.

  Ben wore an idiotic grin when he walked through the gate to the safety area. Grace waited for Danny and the others to shake his hand and clap him on the back. Then she launched herself at him with total exuberance. Before she could even think about what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and kissed him as hard as she could, ignoring the dirt and sweat on his face.

  His hard arms tightened around her, holding her close, and he deepened the kiss despite the yelling and hooting mob around him.

  “I have lots of energy to work off tonight,” he murmured, sliding his mouth to her ear. “Are you up to it?”

  Her heart was hammering against her ribs, the extra surge of adrenaline propelling erotic images through her brain. Ben too, was reacting as the thick ridge of his cock pressed against her through his clothing. She tilted her head back slightly and the heat in his eyes nearly singed her skin.

  “Oh, yeah, cowboy,” she breathed softly. “Bring it on.”

  He licked the edge of her ear. “Later.”

  He lowered his arms to let her slide down the length of his body and she felt every inch of his hardness. When she heard the chuckles and wolf whistles, she looked around and realized more than a dozen people were standing around them, watching her and Ben intently. The heat of embarrassment crept up her cheeks and she lowered her gaze.

  Ben tilted her chin up. “It’s okay, sugar. They’re all friends of mine.”

  He put his arm around her and tucked her in close to him as he continued to accept congratulations from people walking up to him. Grace noted four or five heavily made-up females in tight denims and low-cut blouses eyeing her with a mixture of envy and resentment and swallowed her grin.

  Too bad. He’s mine, at least for now.

  The rest of the bull riders finished their turns, shaking Ben’s hand as the event ended and his time still held at the best. The next event was called and Ben whispered to Grace, “We can get out of here now. Just give me a minute to change.”