The crowd went wild, screaming and whistling as Nick rode Lady into the arena. Trixie’s heart sprang to life like a fangirl as he rode around the ring waving, bringing rise to louder applause and cheers. He looked so handsome in his black hat and black button-down shirt with gold embroidery on the yoke and around the cuffs. Trixie knew that over the years people had tried to get him to dress more like a showman, with everything from black pants with rivets or fringe down the legs, to colorful shirts and matching pants. But Nick was a simple guy, and he’d no sooner give up his blue jeans than leave Pleasant Hill.
Lady looked gorgeous. They’d groomed her and Romeo together, and Trixie had braided black and gold ribbons into their manes to go with their matching black tack with gold fringe along their saddles and breast collars. Romeo would come out for Nick’s finale.
Nick took her breath away as Lady raced around the arena with Nick hanging off one side, lying parallel to her body, holding on with one arm, the other stretched out as if presenting himself to the crowd. He was such a daredevil, he made every move look effortless. He righted himself on the horse and pushed up to a hippodrome, standing on Lady with his arms out to the sides. The crowd went wild, and Trixie was right there with them, clapping and cheering him on. He deserved every one of the awed looks he garnered as he shifted into a death drag, hanging off the side of the horse by one leg. Trixie held her breath. She knew he could do it with his eyes closed, but still it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying to watch.
He moved swiftly up to his feet, standing on Lady again as she charged around the ring, and then he shifted to a shoulder stand, hanging upside down off the side of the horse, his legs pointing straight up toward the ceiling. The crowd never stopped cheering as he got back in the saddle and spun around, riding backward, then turned again, sitting for only seconds before swinging off the side of the horse with one foot in the stirrup, the other against the saddle horn, and riding with his body at a ninety-degree angle to Lady’s, his body parallel to the ground, his arms outstretched. The crowd exploded, and Trixie jumped to her feet, cheering louder than all of them. She stood for the rest of the show, all the way through his grand finale, when the lights dimmed, and Nick stood on the backs of Romeo and Lady, Roman riding as they raced around the ring and jumped over a wall of fire. Cheers erupted, and as the lights came on and Nick took his final lap around the arena, she swore his eyes blazed a heart-melting path to hers.
After his show, while the rest of the rodeo continued, she tried to ignore the hammering in her chest as she made her way down from her seat and through the crowds to meet Nick at the gate. Before she even got close, she heard his name called out in multiple female voices. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and jealousy seared through her.
When she neared the gate, there was a crowd of perfectly coiffed buckle bunnies blocking it. Damn groupies. Everyone loved a hot cowboy. The girls were dressed in tiny shorts, tied shirts, and sparkly cowgirl boots they’d probably bought on the way over. Their makeup was packed on thicker than their fake country accents. Trixie had an urge to rip off the nonfunctional low-slung designer belts they wore around their hips and whip those damn buckle bunnies with the stupid things.
“Nick! Over here! You sure know how to ride! Want to give me a lesson?” a skinny brunette with big boobs asked with a sway of her hips.
Trixie’s hands fisted as she tried to see Nick through the crowd. She’d known what to expect. She’d seen girls throwing themselves at Nick before. She was all about a woman owning her own body, but to actually see it in action now that he was her man was a heck of a lot different.
“Nick! Let’s get a drink!” a blonde yelled.
Shut up, bitch. You don’t know him.
A redhead went up on tiptoes, waving her hat and a pen. “How about an autograph?”
Nick’s deep voice rang out, “Sure thing,” and his rugged face came into view between bobbing heads. His jaw was tight, but he snagged the redhead’s hat and pen.
The redhead squealed, and the other girls went wild, screaming his name and calling out things like “Sign my shirt?” “Me next!” “Over here!” Two girls hollered, “We’ll keep you company. Think you’re cowboy enough to Roman ride the real thing?”
Are you fucking kidding me?
Trixie was fueled with rage, but rooted in place, nauseous, nervous, and too damn jealous, which made her feel strangely vulnerable. They might be overly made-up buckle bunnies, but they were really pretty, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever hooked up with any of them. Her stomach lurched, and she reminded herself that if he had, it was before they’d gotten together and it didn’t matter. But her heart was beating so fast, it made her even more nervous. Why is this so intimidating?
“A’right, ladies,” Nick said, trying to push through, but the girls crowded in tighter.
He was trying to get to her, and something inside her snapped. Back off, buckle bitches. I’m Trixie Fucking Jericho, and you are not getting my man. She pushed through the harem of wannabees, and the second Nick spotted her, he pulled her through the last of them and against his side, earning curious murmurs and disappointed snark.
Trixie squared her shoulders, meeting their hungry eyes, and said, “Autographs only, girls. I don’t share.”
“But Nick does!” someone yelled from the back of the group.
Trixie fisted her hands, fighting the urge to lunge at whoever had said it and tear them apart.
“THAT’S WHERE YOU’RE wrong,” Nick seethed, and grabbed Trixie’s arm. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
He plowed through the pack of women and stormed out of the arena, dragging Trixie with him, a stream of curses falling from her lips. What the hell was he thinking, meeting her by the gate? He was so used to that shit, it hadn’t even occurred to him that it might piss her off. Fuck. He was an idiot.
“I’m sorry about that shit,” he gritted out.
“Oh my freaking God!” Trixie yanked her arm free and stalked farther into the parking lot. She spun around, breathing fire. “I knew about you and your buckle bunnies, but that…?” She paced, her body shaking, words falling fast and venomous from her lips. “I wanted to claw their eyes out! I’ve never felt this way, ever, and I hate it!” She pounded her chest with her fist. “I’m Trixie Jericho, not some pansy-ass jealous girl. What the hell?”
“Trix—”
“Don’t!” she warned, eyes blazing. “You have no idea what it’s like to see that shit. To feel like I have to compete with those types of women!”
“Don’t I?” he fumed, closing the distance between them. “How the hell do you think I felt at Tully’s?” His voice escalated. “How about when you dragged my ass to Whiskey Bro’s? You think I didn’t feel that way with all those guys checking you out?”
“I haven’t slept with them!” she shouted, wearing a path before him. “For all I know, you’ve been with half those girls.”
“If I have, that’s my fucking past,” he said through clenched teeth. “This is why I don’t do relationships. I’m not going to apologize for who I was. Did you see me taking numbers? Signing their tits? Taking them up on their offers?”