I sat beside Dylan, because apparently they did it alphabetically, but I appreciated the friendly face.
What I didn’t anticipate was the fact that I would be all but ignored. Dylan, however, was overrun with women wanting him to sign hats and cards, and on one particularly beautiful blonde with enormous bolt-on tits, some cleavage.
I had the odd kid come up, the ones collecting all the signatures, and they made it better. I had time to chat to them about their favorite rider, who was the rankest bull. Their faces lit up and it made the whole situation better.
One kid in a hat bigger than his torso was talking to me now. “And that's why I think Dylan should ride The Butcher because I think that he would be the only one who could ride him.”
I sat back in my chair and grinned. “You don’t think I could ride The Butcher?”
The boy frowned and looked me over appraisingly. “No Ma’am.”
I raised an eyebrow, his mother watching from behind him with a frown like she was going to whack him upside the head as soon as he said something rude. “Why not? You don’t have to be strong to be a rider, otherwise weight lifters would do it. You don’t have to be a boy to ride a bull, unless you know some secret I don’t?”
“That’s not it either, Ma’am.”
I pushed my hat back on my head and gave him an appraising look. “Why do you think I can’t ride The Butcher but Dylan Montaigne can?”
The boy frowned, chewing on his lip. “‘Cause you're right-handed and The Butcher likes to spin to the left and you prefer when they spin into your hand. Dylan is a leftie like me.”
I grinned wide, and the kid gave me a tentative smile back. “You make a pretty good point kid. I’m going to have to work on that if I wanna beat that bull. Thanks for the advice.” I signed a card for him and he waved it around til the ink dried before handing it back to his mama. He looked at the line around Dylan, mostly women and old men with soft middles and sighed.
“We gotta go home now. We only gots a babysitter for another thirty minutes,” he said, the disappointment written all over his face. Call me freaking soft, but tough kids with sad faces broke my heart.
I lifted my chin toward him. “Come over this side of the table.” He looked back at his mom, and when she nodded, squished between the small gap between the tables. “What’s your name?”
“Buck.”
“Okay, Buck. You got something for Dylan to sign?” He nodded and held out a poster with Dylan’s face on it. “Now, you watch this.” I leaned around him, over to where a pretty teenage girl with a tied up shirt and jeans that were painted on, twirled her hair and blushed. Eesh. Save me.
“Hey Dylan,” I yelled over the crowd.
Dylan smiled politely at the girl in front of him, leaning back in his chair. The look he threw me was friendly, but underneath there was heat in his eyes when he took me in. “What's up, T.M.?”
“My friend Buck here thinks you can ride The Butcher because you’re a leftie.”
Dylan grinned and scooted his chair toward us. “Is that so? Well, I gotta say, I’ve ridden him a couple of times and he’s always put me on my ass, but one day, Buck, I’m gonna ride that bull for the full eight seconds.”
The look of pure adulation on Buck’s face was worth gold. “Can you sign my poster?”
Dylan nodded and took the poster without hesitation. “You going to ride bulls when you grow up, Buck?”
Buck shook his head. “Naw, my mama says I’m too smart for that. She said riding bulls is like being in the front seat of a car accident on purpose.”
We both looked at him, and then at his blushing mother who looked like she wanted to murder her son.
I threw back my head and laughed. “You should listen to your mama, because they are almost always right. Bull riding isn’t for the clever ones, and if they were clever to start with, they aren’t after landing on their head too many times.”
Dylan was chuckling as well. “She’s right, Kid. Become a dentist. The money is just as good and you are less likely to lose a limb.” Shaking his hand, Dylan turned back to the teenage girl and I helped Buck squeeze back out between the tables.
His mom was still looking horrified. “I’m so sorry,” she mouthed and I smiled.
“He’s a good kid. Keep up the hard work. Don’t become a dentist though. Dentists are boring. Do something you love.”
Buck gave me a solemn nod and I waved as his mother hustled him out of the room. I packed up my stuff and left the room.
I managed to avoid everyone on the way out of the building, dragging my gear like a lodestone. I loaded my crap into the back of a cab, and the mute cab driver got me to the hotel in half the time as my prior trip.
My truck still sat out the front, and I sucked in a deep breath. I was… nervous. What if he’d decided that I was too hard. That he couldn’t handle me dating other guys. Because, I was going to be honest with myself now, which was a new one for me. Normally I stuck my head in the sand and pretended shit was okay even if it was all burning down around me.
The truth was what happened with Beau wasn’t the same as those faceless guys in dark alleyways who scratched an itch, no matter how blasé I was about it last night. He was a little piece of my past. He saw me, the real me. Tessa May Everett, not T.M. Moore.
But Frankie was like another limb to me. Vital to my survival. So what the fuck was I meant to do with that?
I scanned my key on the card reader by the door and pushed it open slowly. I peeked around, and when I saw Frankie sitting on the bed, a relieved shudder rolled through my body. He was still here. He was freshly showered, his hair still damp and a little messy, like he’d been running his fingers through it.
When he looked at me, his face was soft. He opened his arms and my body was moving before I thought about it. I launched myself from halfway across the room into his arms and he caught me easily. Of course he did. He was always there to catch me.
I just curled into his chest for a moment, sucked in the familiar smell of him. He held me tight, and I let him. Eventually, I relaxed a little and settled into his chest, arms and legs around him like a koala.
“I’m sorry, Querida. I shouldn’t have dropped that on you out of jealousy.”
I nodded, but I didn’t look up at him. Talking into his chest was easier. “I was a bit shocked.”
He chuckled against my hair and then stiffened. “I can imagine. My, uh, delivery was off, but it was the truth.”
“I know.”
“We have to talk about this. It will, err, fester?” He gave that little nod he always did when he thought of the correct word in English. “You cannot ignore it like you do other things that hurt too much.”
I sighed heavily against the hard muscles of his shoulder and pulled back enough that I could see his face for this next bit. “I honestly thought you loved me like a sister. The way you loved Luiz.”
His laugh vibrated beneath my palms. “Very much not how I love my sisters or Luiz, Gatinha.”
I slapped his arm. “I get that now.” I sobered. “I love you too, Frankie. So damn much. The thought of you leaving me makes my soul hurt. We were buddies when Luiz was here too, just three friends. And when Luiz left, I didn’t want to rock the boat. Because I need you. If you left, I don’t know…” I shuddered. “It didn't occur to me that I should make that leap from friend to something more, even though now I could see how we were in a relationship without the fun parts. The signs are all there. I hated when you went home with other girls. You were my rock when I felt like I was drowning. You’re the first person I want to find when I ride a bull or any other important moment.”