by Chiah Wilder
“You look a little pale. Do you want me to get you some juice or something?”
Flux blinked and focused on his bullfighting co-worker, Pete, as the guy took a step further into his personal space and sized him up. They worked together hand in hand in the ring, and lives counted on them being in sync, but Flux didn’t consider Pete a friend. Since Flux had gone nomad, he lived a solitary life, and on the road, his only friends were bitterness and recriminations. Once in a while, he’d return to Pinewood Springs and meet up with his brothers. He’d crash at the clubhouse and lose himself in booze and club girls—anything to stop the memories and numb the pain. His brothers saw the hollowness in his eyes, they’d pointed it out to him, but he didn’t need the brothers to tell him he was a shell of his former self. That was what guilt, self-loathing, and loss did to a person—it made them not give a shit about anything.
“You still with me, dude?” Pete flicked his Stetson up onto his head.
“Uh … yeah. Just didn’t sleep much last night.”
A grin cracked his face. “Did you get lucky?”
Flux shook his head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just so fuckin’ hot around here.”
“Isn’t your AC workin’ in your room?” Pete’s eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer, his gaze running over Flux’s face.
“It is.” Flux stepped back.
“Jesus, you look like you just upended three pounds of raw hamburger meat into your system.” Pete sniffed and grimaced. “And you smell like a fucking bar. What’s going on with you, man?”
“I’m good … just didn’t get much sleep, like I said.” Flux pulled off his bandana, wiped the cold sweat prickling across his face, and retied it back on his head. “I’ll be cool. Don’t fuckin’ fuss about me, dude.” He knew he’d overdone the boozing and the smoking the night before, especially since he had to be on his game in the arena—the bull riders’ lives depended on it. But deep down, Flux knew that after the rodeo closed up for the night, he’d pull a repeat of the night before and the one before that … and all the other nights. They were all the same except the chick never got away. Duchess was a first for him.
Flux kicked at the dirt, coughing when dust invaded his nostrils. He was still pissed that the sweet chick hadn’t come back to his room the night before. What the hell went wrong? All the cards in his hand had been laid out perfectly, and she should’ve been his in a heartbeat. He’d be damned if he admitted that taking her back to his place would’ve meant more to him than just hooking up with the average biker groupie.
“Sure,” Pete said, still eyeing him up.
The sound of Pete’s voice brought him out of his musings. “Sure, what?”
“Where the fuck are you today, man? I was saying that if you’re sure that you’re solid, we need you behind the stalls. Charlie wants us to practice some new dodges, and Eddie wants to show us the beauty he bought at auction yesterday.”
Charlie was a rodeo promoter and Eddie was a long-time bull owner.
Flux nodded and fell in behind Pete while his thoughts kept ping-ponging back and forth from his past to the sexy blonde who’d cock-blocked him. Since the past was a painful mess, he’d preferred to focus on his strike out. Maybe she’ll be at the bar tonight. He rubbed the back of his neck. What the hell was he thinking, wanting to see her again? For Flux, there were no repeats. No exceptions. His bed was a revolving door and that’s how he liked it. He didn’t want to get involved.
Flux cleared his throat and walked the path along the grounds to the bull pens, where they kept the animals when they weren’t being ridden. The stench of manure mingled with the scent of sweet hay as he passed by the arena and saw some of the steer wrestlers practicing their roping techniques and—
“Shit,” Flux whispered under his breath as he spotted a rider leading her horse through barrel drills at the other end of the ring. Long golden hair gleamed in the sunlight as she worked the horse like a champ. Flux stopped and leaned against the steel bar and watched Duchess’s gorgeous ass that was glued to the saddle as she maneuvered the brown stallion through its paces. From her expression, Flux could see she was completely focused and he almost called out to her, but he knew that could spook her or the horse, so he just stayed and watched her as a rush of excitement spread through him.
Pete circled back to him, lines creased across his forehead. “What the hell, man? Charlie’s gonna be pissed if we don’t get over there.” He followed Flux’s attention then chuckled. “I don’t blame you for stopping. The way she rides her horse is a thing of beauty, and her ass isn’t too shabby either.”
Flux gave Pete a sideways look. “Who is she?”
“Maggie Haves. Haven’t you ever seen her perform? She’s one of the best barrel racers in the amateur circuit. Talk is that she’ll be going pro in no time. The rumor is that Tara’s knocked up and Tanner’s the one who done it, so when Charlie found out, he benched her and called up Maggie to see if she could step in. She and Charlie go back since she started racing when she was a kid. It seems like she can never say no to him.” Pete paused from his rambling for a minute to watch her, then went on, “Anyway, she got in yesterday afternoon. How’s it that you haven’t seen her at any of the rodeos you’ve worked?”
Clouds of dust blurred the stallion’s legs as Duchess guided him expertly around the three barrels at a speed that made Flux wonder how she stayed in the saddle. I bet her thigh muscles are real tight. Visions of her legs wrapped around his waist as she pulled him deeper to her flashed through his mind.
“Maybe you worked the same rodeos as her but didn’t pay any attention.” Pete lit up a cigarette.
“There’s no fuckin’ way I wouldn’t have noticed her. I’m not on the rodeo circuit the way you and the other guys are. I pick up work here and there when I need the cash.”
“That’s right—you just ride your motorcycle around the country. Doesn’t that ever get old?”
Flux turned and looked at his colleague. “I’m guessing you’ve never been on a bike ’cause if you had, you’d never be asking me a shit question like that. Riding with the wind at your back is freedom. How the fuck can that get old?”
Pete held up his hands. “Didn’t mean to knock your lifestyle, man. It’s just that I’m a rodeo cowboy through and through.”
Flux focused his attention back to Maggie. She’s in the rodeo. Well, I’ll be damned.
“I gotta say that she’s one of the best damn riders, and the prettiest.” A cloud of smoke enveloped them. Pete’s hand landed on Flux’s shoulder with a thump and he bristled against the touch. “Too bad she’s a rodeo girl, and we don’t shit where we eat, you know?”
Flux grunted and cracked his neck. “That hasn’t stopped the chicks from trying …” Flux crossed his arms and stared as Maggie reined the horse to a standstill and petted its neck while whispering into its ear. “I’ve had more than a few throw themselves at me, but that’s not the way I roll. Kind of breaks my oath of a one and done. Anyway, fucking someone you work with is always complicated, and I’m into simple, you know?”
“I hear you.” Pete took another puff of his cigarette. “Still doesn’t mean the rest of us have to live that way. I don’t seem to get lucky that much.” He elbowed Flux lightly. “Not all of us have a bright and shiny motorcycle that makes the girls spread their legs.”
Flux snorted and stared at Maggie as she hopped off her horse and led it to the gate of the pen. “Yeah, if life were that easy,” he muttered and pushed off the fence, his gaze still fixed on her. Damn … that ass.
There was no way to suppress his immediate attraction to her body, let alone her mind. She didn’t take shit and she gave as good as she got—which wasn’t what he was used to. The majority of women he’d come across just placated him and gave him what they thought he wanted to hear so they could spend a night with an outlaw biker.
At the rodeos Flux worked, he had his pick of women competitors and employees who worked behind the scenes trying to get his cock i
n their pussies, but he didn’t want to see the same woman twice after spending the night with her. Working together kind of blew that rule to hell. But there was something about Maggie that was different and made him want to forget about his damn rules, and hell if he didn’t hate that something fierce.
Maggie straightened up and paused, and Flux was positive she looked at him from the corner of her eye, but her expression didn’t change one iota. You got a real good poker face, Duchess. She pushed up her fawn-colored cowboy hat, tossed her head, and disappeared around the corner of the stalls.
Flux stared at the empty space Maggie had once occupied, and his lips turned up into a smirk. First, she hadn’t hopped into his bed when she had the chance, and now, she hadn’t given him the time of day. Yep … I’m definitely interested.
“We better get our asses to the bull pens. Charlie’s probably having a coronary.” Pete tossed his cigarette butt to the ground and stubbed it out with the heel of his cowboy boot.
Flux nodded, and while the two men headed back to the pens, he tuned out Pete’s jabbering. Flux had only one thing on his mind—the sassy, curvy barrel racer.
Yeah, he was definitely going back to the watering hole that night, and he knew she’d be there.
Game on, Duchess.
CHAPTER FOUR
Maggie
“Come on, man, women can’t rodeo any more than men can have babies, and it’s damn stupid to try their hand at a sport that will more than likely get them seriously injured or killed. A woman’s much better off in the kitchen looking after her man and making him happy.”
Maggie bristled as she caught the tail end of a loud conversation near the bar at Alamo’s while she nursed her beer. When she turned around to assess the supposed voice of reason, nothing shocked her more than when she saw Chet at the head of his little gang of bull riders taking the helm. God, the asshole set the women’s movement back decades simply by breathing.
How the hell did I ever date him? Biggest mistake of my life. Granted, she hadn’t known then what she knew now. And what she knew now made her slide off her barstool and stalk over to their boisterous table. When she stood in front of it, the talk died down real fast. Chet’s gaze swung from his cronies and up at her before his smile lit up his whole face.
Ugh, he needed to spare her the charming cowboy act. Everyone knew it was a ruse. She did, better than anyone at that point, and waving his good ol’ boy southern schtick in her face was like taunting a bull with a moving piece of cloth. Just about now, she planned on goring the jerk with her verbal horns.
“Honeycakes, what can I do for you tonight?” Chet put down his beer and stood up. “Did you have a change of heart about us?”
“Hardly,” Maggie breathed out, not bothering to disguise her disgust at his suggestion. “I couldn’t help overhearing your loud and ridiculous opinions, and I thought you could benefit from a third party throwing her hat into the ring.”
Chet grinned wider and looked down at his cronies before he looked back at her and winked. He never was one to pick up on a hint. She crossed her arms and took a deep breath then narrowed her eyes.
“You do know we live in the century where women are highly competent and capable to do damn near anything they want in this world without a problem. Merely because we don’t line up with your outdated ideas on men being the stronger sex doesn’t make you’re better than us. In fact, I’ve seen you flounder on that bull more times than I can count, Chet, and I’ve fallen off … hmm, how many times now?”
The idle chatter at their table went quiet, and Chet’s easygoing demeanor took a backseat to his scowl. There he is. The real man behind the mask. Maggie straightened her shoulders and cocked her head as her hair fell across her shoulders.
“Men think because I look like I do that I don’t have a brain in my head. Well, I do, and I’m sure as hell better in the ring than any of you. So next time you start assessing women based on outdated gender norms, maybe you should look at your scores in the ring and get back to me, okay?”
“Babe, we didn’t mean—” Chet started in again as his hands flew up trying to smooth over the situation.
“Yeah, you did mean it. You meant every damn word.” She whirled around and walked back to her stool. Without a doubt, they would bring up the subject again. Men like that never caught onto progressive ideas even when it was spoon fed to them, so they would go back to judging her gender and demeaning her purely because it was all they knew how to do—but at least she had said her piece about it. That was more than she had gotten to do in the past, when Chet revealed his true colors after several dates.
“Nice one, kiddo.” Sadie, the bartender and owner of Alamo’s winked at Maggie. “Next one is on the house. If they didn’t buy a hefty tab’s worth of alcohol here, I’d kick ’em out on their asses … but money is money.”
“I get it.” Maggie sighed and took another long drink, ignoring the sputtering of laughter coming from the table she’d just left. Chet’s guffaws were the loudest, and they made her nerves snap in anger. He’s such an asshole.
“Man thinks he’s a god just because he rides bulls, but that doesn’t give him a license to treat everyone with disrespect. One of these days, something big will happen to make him understand that fact.” Sadie slid another beer bottle across the bar and patted Maggie’s hand. “Don’t let him get to you too much, okay?”
“He barely makes a dent on my radar.” Maggie brought the bottle to her lips.
“Not like the one I saw you dancing real close with last night, right, sugar?” Sadie laughed and went to help another customer, but that didn’t stop her from catching Maggie’s eye with a less than subtle wink.
At the mention of him, a twinge went through her body and she stiffened as she tried to suppress it. A distraction was the last thing she needed on her agenda, but she couldn’t deny how incredibly attracted she was to him. What woman wouldn’t be? Tall, well-built, intensely blue eyes, which contrasted with his almost black hair, a sexy five o’clock shadow, and a strong jaw that had her wanting to run her tongue along it. The ink on his arms frightened and fascinated her.
Maggie took another gulp of beer and looked over her shoulder—he wasn’t there. Probably for the best. She doubted such a strong and confident guy would come back in the bar looking for her after she’d shot him down the night before. She had to—he exuded danger and sexiness to the fucking max. It’d surprised her how attracted she was to him the moment she laid eyes on him. He wasn’t the normal type of guy she went after. There was nothing clean cut or cowboy about him. No … the man was all muscle and sharp edges, and his brooding eyes hinted at more if only she would get to know him. And that was where the good-time train took a turn, and Maggie knew she had to get off the ride or risk getting too involved with him. He was the type of man that a woman would fall hard for, and she had no time for that.
At first, Maggie had regretted not throwing caution to the wind and ignoring her common sense, but when she’d seen him at the arena staring at her, she about fell off her horse. Of course, she acted like she didn’t notice him, but her heart was pounding and the blood was rushing through her veins and it wasn’t because of her practice session. He was the cause of it, and she couldn’t have any of that, right?
Another too-loud laugh from Chet was followed by whistles and claps. Look what a mess it’s been since I dated someone in the circuit. No way I’m repeating my mistake with Flux. Maggie shook her head slightly. What the hell kind of name is Flux anyway?
Sadie plopped another beer in front of her. “Compliments from the loudest guy in the bar.” She tipped her head in Chet’s direction.
Maggie groaned. “I don’t want it. Give it to someone else.” She glanced around and spotted a big burly guy with arms like ham and covered in tattoos. He wore a denim vest covered in metal and rock-band patches. “Give it to him.”
“Oh, you’re bad,” Sadie said as she picked up the beer and walked away.
That was what Mag
gie didn’t want—to be put into another situation similar to Chet. As it was, the man followed her around like he had her on a pin to his Google maps, and though she’d like to think it was only a coincidence, since they knew the same people and worked together, Chet’s pseudo-stalking was becoming quite alarming. It seemed that every damn rodeo she signed up for, he was there too. That had to be more than a coincidence.
And now Flux worked for the rodeo as a bullfighter—one of the most dangerous jobs of all. Maggie had to admit that she’d never have guessed he’d work at a rodeo. From his baritone drawl, she figured he was from Texas, but him in a rodeo? No way.
She stretched out her back. I really need to stop thinking of him so much. This is more than nuts. But she really had a good time with him the previous night. She’d loved flirting with him, and the second they got out on that dance floor together, it felt so right. “Silly,” she mumbled under her breath.
No matter what, she’d have to take a hard pass and stick to keeping the other side of her bed as cold as a grave. Too bad her body hadn’t gotten that logical memo. She swiveled around on the stool, and her eyes couldn’t help but scope out the crowded bar scene for Flux, even with her newest resolution. What’s the harm in just hanging out together? I won’t go to his room tonight, but we did have a good time talking and dancing. Their banter had been refreshing, and it was nice to be with someone who could keep up with her. Flux also didn’t seem to have an issue with her less-than-southern-belle attitude; where her sass had gotten her into trouble before with other men, Flux seemed to enjoy a challenge.
Sadie came back over to stand in front of Maggie and leaned her elbows on the bar as something captured her attention over Maggie’s left shoulder.
“What?”
“Man of the hour, six o’clock, and heading in your direction. Play nice.” Sadie grinned, grabbed her bar towel, and moseyed on out of there as if her butt were on fire.