by Meg Ripley
Marisol nodded. “Okay. Then tell me what to do.”
Their conversation had gone a long way in cooling his blood and his jeans were no longer too tight. But he knew it was a temporary sort of peace. She was so gorgeous in the morning light, and his hunger for her would never fade. It lurked just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment his guard would slip so it could come rushing back like the tide—overwhelming and out of his control. And that was what made it so goddamned scary. Nothing could be out of his control. A slip anywhere could spell catastrophe.
****
From the time she was old enough to work the food truck, Marisol resented working on the 4th of July. The park adjoining the rodeo arena was turned into a festival, complete with games, rides and booths crammed full of interesting things. The air was redolent with popcorn, peanuts, hot dogs, cotton candy, and fried dough. Mari never wanted to work; she wanted to explore and meet people, play the carnival games and ride the rickety rides, but her mother would never allow her to wander away from the truck.
This year, Mari’s desire to explore the festivities was only compounded by her need to spend time with Dean and the awkward, almost painful silence between herself and her mother. Mari didn’t know if her father had told her mom the full truth. She didn’t know if there would be another explosion of anger; if her mother would accuse her of being a liar. She didn’t know if there was a fight brewing in the silence between them or if they were on the long road towards healing and mending the abrasion in their relationship. All she knew was that her mother wanted her to work the range instead of the window, and sweat poured from her as she prepared the orders that her mom shouted back to her. For a full day, that was the extent of their communication.
The Independence Day rodeo was a four-night event. The cowboy with the highest score across all four nights would win the fifty-thousand-dollar purse. For Dean, that would be enough to qualify him for the professional circuit.
Ralph and Waldo were also on the cusp of having enough to join the pro circuit. They all got off to an excellent start—Dean had a score of 90 for his first ride, and Ralph and Waldo had the fastest time for the team ropers.
“I hope they win,” Anna commented the next morning as she poured her coffee. “Then maybe they’ll get the hell out of town.”
Marisol sucked her breath in, drawing her mother’s sharp look. She averted her gaze, pretending not to notice, and tried to focus on her eggs, but she couldn’t get the thought of Dean leaving out of her mind. It never occurred to her that he wouldn’t win—and he deserved to win—but this was the first time she considered the reality of him becoming a professional bull rider. Of course he would leave Cody, and maybe only return once a year. If at all.
On the second night of the rodeo, Dean had the highest score with a ride worth 92 points. Mari stood in her customary spot to watch the ride, clapping and cheering as loudly as anybody else, but she didn’t linger in the arena to congratulate him after the fireworks. She couldn’t stop thinking about him leaving, couldn’t forget about the disappointment sitting in the bottom of her stomach like a heavy stone. She couldn’t ignore the reality that in a few days he might be gone and she could never see him again.
Marisol focused on her meditation exercises, doing her best to quiet her mind and focus on the bear spirit, but images of Dean invaded at every opportunity. When she finally gave up and turned off her bedroom light, she heard a small cough and the scuffle of boots outside. Peeking through her window, she saw him settling on the grass below the sill, feet out in front of him, hat pulled over his eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again before any sound could escape. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even know how to talk to him without her fear and disappointment spilling out of her.
Dean found her the next day. She wasn’t trying to avoid him per se, but she did hope to not see or speak to him. Those hopes were dashed when he stepped up to the truck, wearing his most charming smile and a blue and black shirt that brought out all the rich tones in his brown eyes. He’d attracted the attention of several young women; they were blatantly making eyes at him, vying for his attention, but he didn’t appear to notice them.
“Two beef tacos and a lemonade,” Dean said.
“Coming right up. Will there be anything else?”
“Yeah,” he smiled. “Somebody who will share the tacos with me.”
“I’d love to, but I can’t.” She gestured at the long line behind him. “Too many people.”
“What about a walk after the rodeo tonight?”
Mari almost said yes before she could stop herself, but she called back the enthusiastic acceptance and simply shrugged. “Maybe? My mom might not let me.”
“I see. Tell her that we need to talk.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“Mari, if you don’t want to meet me tonight, just tell me.”
“I want to see you, Dean. I just don’t know if I can.” The line behind him was growing longer, and her mother was shooting her a glare from the range. “Here are your tacos and the lemonade. That’ll be five dollars.”
He handed her a ten. “Keep the change.”
She spent the rest of the day lost in her own thoughts, debating what she should do. She wanted to see him more than words could say—especially since she knew their time together was running short. Paradoxically, that was precisely the reason she didn’t want to meet him after the rodeo. Soon he would be gone. Why prolong the agony and extend the grief by seeing him, smelling him and touching him while knowing she could never have him?
That night, Dean didn’t have the best ride. He came in third for the evening with a rather lackluster score of 81. The bull was sedate, almost tame, compared to the other beasts, and Dean finished his ride, but he didn’t look good doing it. Mari could have tried to make her escape from the food truck to meet him after the ride, but instead, she took on all the work of cleaning up and closing down for the night. When she finally dragged herself home and collapsed in bed, she heard Dean in his customary place outside her window.
****
The morning of the Fourth dawned bright and beautiful—and hot. Not a single cloud drifted through the vibrant blue sky, and the temperature reached the upper 80s before ten. The town’s festivities began early with a parade, a pancake breakfast, and a junior rodeo, and for the first time in her life, Mari wasn’t interested in attending any of it. She didn’t want to stay in the house or deal with the weird tension between herself and her mother, either, though, so she made her way to the center of town.
“Well, fancy meeting you here, pretty lady.”
She turned to see that Dean was right at her elbow. The crowd was too dense to make a graceful escape so she could only smile at him. “Good morning, cowboy.”
“Enjoying the parade?”
“Yeah. There are some good floats this year.”
“There are,” Dean agreed. “Would you honor me by accompanying me to the pancake breakfast?”
“I don’t think I can. I need to get back to the truck.”
“Fine. Will you at least tell me why you’re avoiding me?”
“I’m not avoiding you,” Mari protested, but she couldn’t meet his eyes.
“What’s going on? Have I done something to offend you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Is it your parents?”
“Well, no.” Anna clearly wasn’t a fan of Dean, but she hadn’t told Marisol to stay away from him again after he came to the truck.
“Then what is it, Mari? If I’ve done something wrong, I’d at least like the chance to fix it.”
“It’s nothing. You haven’t done anything wrong, Dean. You’re...you’re great. It’s just that…”
“It’s just that what?”
“You’re going to win tonight.”
Dean blinked down at her. “Maybe I will. So what?”
“So...then you’ll have your card. You’ll be leaving. Maybe you’ll come back next year
for the Fourth, or maybe you’ll be in Utah or Nevada or Colorado.”
Dean frowned. “So you haven’t talked to me in three days because you’re mad that I might leave?”
She shook her head. “I’m not mad. I haven’t talked to you in three days because...because it’s already going to hurt too much to see you go. Besides, I...I want….”
“What do you want?”
Mari took a deep breath. “I want you, but my parents would definitely freak out if they ever knew that we were more than just friends. It’s probably best that we just remain friends, but I don’t know if I can stand it...stand seeing you and wanting you and—”
Marisol’s explanation was cut off sharply by the pressure of Dean’s mouth against hers. She immediately succumbed to the kiss, grateful for the chance to touch him. She gripped his muscled arms with hungry fingers, pressing herself against his body as he deepened the kiss, exploring and claiming her mouth. The warmth from the sun was like an arctic blast compared to the heat coming off his body, and she melted into him like wax over an open flame. By the time he lifted his head, she was dizzy with desire. She never wanted to let him go.
“Let me make a few things clear to you. First, I will see you tonight after the rodeo. I intend to win and when I do, I intend to collect on that kiss. Second, even if I win and ride on the pro circuit, I’ll come back here. Often. You’re not going to get away from me that easily. And third, Mari, honey, we’re not just friends. I don’t think we will ever be just friends again. But if you don’t want me, you need to tell me now.”
“I want you.”
“And I’ll see you tonight?”
She nodded, her mouth dry from need and excitement. “I’ll be the first thing you see after you win.”
“Good. Now that we’ve got that settled, let’s enjoy the rest of the day.” He looped his arm around her waist and pulled her close; he didn’t intend to let her go until it was time to crawl on back of a bull. Mari couldn’t help but smile and fit herself against the side of his body. She’d never felt more at home in her life.
****
Climbing up on the back of a bull had never been easy; it wasn’t easy Dean’s first time, and it never got better. As he hovered over the massive beast, his splayed legs just an inch from the solid wall of muscle, he tried to clear his mind of everything but the reality of the bull. He didn’t think about the fact that he held his own destiny in his hands; that this ride could change his life. He didn’t think about the crowd, or how strangely silent they were as they waited for the chute gate to open. He didn’t think about Marisol—though he knew she was watching and there was a special pleasure in that knowledge—and he didn’t think about all the rides that came before this. That moment—in all the world—only the bull, Red Bantam, mattered.
He settled onto Red Bantam’s back, wrapping his right hand in the rope. The beast was vibrating, and Dean knew from the second they touched that he would be in for one hell of a ride. There was nothing but power between his legs—big, primordial, furious power. He would never tame that power. No person could ever truly harness it, but he had his own deep well of power, and he could draw on that to meet the bull buck for buck, twist for twist. The rides only lasted eight seconds, but in those eight seconds he felt more alive, more like himself, than any other time. When he was on back of one of nature’s meanest behemoths, his own dual nature merged into one. More than a man. Not just an animal. He could meet the bull on its own terms and he could emerge victorious.
Dean nodded, giving the signal that his tie was secure and his mind was ready. The gate opened to the loud buzzer, and Dean was suddenly five feet in the air. The bull leapt from the chute and came down with a bone-jarring thud. Dean gritted his teeth together and kept his left hand high in the air, his spine arched back. The bull bucked both its back legs out, slammed his head back, and arched up into the air. Dean focused on the back of the animal’s head, the crowd an impossible blur around him, all sound fading except the beat of his own heart counting down eight seconds.
The bull spun in a furious circle, all four hooves leaving the ground before it bucked its back legs. Dean’s muscles strained to resist the G-force generated by the bull, his core pulling tight to keep him upright. He felt the strength of the bear surge through his frame, keeping him locked in place as the bull twisted and jumped and fought. Adrenaline flooded his system and time slowed to a crawl. Even the bull seemed to be moving at half its regular speed, and the certainty that he was where he belonged, that he had already won, spread through him with a calming warmth.
Things didn’t start to go wrong until after the buzzer sounded his eight seconds. He pulled on the rope to free his hand, but the knot didn’t loosen. The bull didn’t care that the eight seconds were over—Red Bantam just wanted the cowboy off his back. It doubled down on its earlier attempts, bucking harder, its sides heaving furiously.
Ernie appeared in a flash of red and yellow, trying to distract the bull long enough to give Burt a chance to free Dean. They only needed a second or two; as long as the bull stopped bucking, Dean could make his escape.
But the bull could not be distracted from the irritating weight on his back, and Ernie’s attempts only seemed to enrage it. A bull rider learns early on never to panic, and Dean remained calm as he tried to untangle himself, forcing himself to ignore the real danger he was in.
“Come on, kid,” Ernie shouted, jumping forward to grab the rope. He gave it a good tug and the tension eased from Dean’s wrist, giving him the chance to throw himself from the animal. Just as he hit the ground, he heard the crowd give a collective gasp of fear, and he crawled from the spinning bull as fast as he could, turning over on his back to see that the bull wasn’t anywhere near him.
It was circling Ernie.
Ernie, who was down on the ground and not moving.
Within seconds, the bull hooked its horns under Ernie and tossed him in the air like a rag doll. He fell back to the arena dirt, seemingly lifeless as the bull spun around, pawing the ground. Dean knew the bull would go back again for a second attempt, and a third, and a fourth, until he was finally satisfied that the interloper was dead. Red Bantam ignored Burt altogether, lowering his head and preparing to charge.
Dean had about two seconds to think over his options. He knew he just put in the best ride of his life. He knew he won. He had no doubt that the purse was his, and with that purse came the opportunity to take on the best bulls in the world. After years of barely getting by—of amateur rodeos, injuries, loneliness, pain, and hard work—his dreams were finally in reach.
He also knew that if he didn’t do something right then, Ernie would die.
Dean only had two seconds to make his decision, but in truth, there was only one choice he could ever make. He jumped to his feet and sprang forward, letting go of the reins that kept the bear in check. Now fully shifted, Dean landed between Ernie and the charging bull, roaring a warning. The bull turned at the last second, dodging Dean and sprinting to the end of the arena. When Red Bantam reached the fence, he reared around without stopping, lowering his head as he prepared to attack.
Dean remained standing on his hind legs, holding his ground in the face of the charging bull. He swung his massive paw at the great head just before the horns reached his hide, knocking the bull to the side with so much force that it stumbled and nearly fell. But the animal was graceful despite his great size, and found his balance before turning on Dean once again.
Red Bantam’s second attempt was more successful than the first, its right horn piercing Dean’s left side. He growled with pain and swiped at the bull again, his claws digging through the bull’s thick hide. Red Bantam bawled in fury, the blood dripping down his side doing nothing to slow his attack. The bull kicked its back leg out, connecting solidly with Dean’s hip, but he was past the point of feeling any pain; now the blows from the bull were just vibrations. The scent of blood drove him into a rage, and he could sense he was losing himself completely to his animal i
nstincts, but he found himself helpless in the face of controlling them.
He hit the bull again with his claws, tearing at the animal’s snout, ripping his flesh like it was made of tissue paper. Blinded, the bull bawled again as he slammed his horns into Dean’s side, hooking his head upward. Twin rivers of blood gushed from Dean, but he used the bull’s close proximity to his advantage, attacking with sharp teeth and claws in a frenzy until the bull twisted away and leapt out of reach.
Burt and the other bull fighters jumped into action. The bull was losing steam as he lost blood, and the men were able to herd him towards the open gate. EMTs raced into the arena as soon as they were given the all-clear, and the sheriff’s deputies were hot on their heels. Dean saw them approach but didn’t realize what they intended to do until it was too late: the three deputies fired at the same time, shooting tranq darts into his thigh, side, and neck.
Dean roared once and everything went black.
****
Marisol couldn’t stop shaking. Her fingers trembled so badly, she couldn’t hold the cup of coffee her mother had thrust into her hand. Her legs couldn’t support her weight, and her head ached from the force of clenching her jaw.
But she didn’t cry. Not a single tear.
In fact, her face felt entirely drained of moisture. Her lips were chapped, her skin was tight, and her eyes felt like they were full of sand. She had no idea how long she sat in the ER lobby, joining her mother’s nearly silent but constant prayers.
The night had gone from a dream come true to a nightmare in the space of a heartbeat. She’d been clapping and cheering with everybody else when the bull caught her father by his horn and flipped him into the air. Mari’s cheer had turned into a scream and she began crawling up the six-foot-high fence, all thoughts of safety forgotten. She didn’t know exactly what her plan was, only that she needed to get to her father before the bull did. The only thing that stopped her from scaling the fence and bolting into the arena was the sight of Dean transforming from the man she knew into a beast greater than anything she’d ever witnessed.