25 Reasons to Hate Christmas and Cowboys Page 14
“He’s obviously popular,” Isabel said.
“Yeah, looks it.” I studied the man’s rope technique with fascination, and when the bull exploded out of the gate, I watched his form like a hawk.
“He’s good!”
I nodded. The eight-second buzzer went off and Bowen dismounted easily, landing on his feet. He jogged to the side of the ring and climbed the fence.
I sat back in my chair. “Damn. He made that look easy.”
Isabel kissed my cheek. “So do you.”
I looked around at the arena. “I wish I were down there. I’d love to come compete in this tour.” I paused. “How would you feel about that? Spending a bit more time out here, maybe? Take an extended working holiday?”
She grinned. “You’d have to overcome your fear of sharks and the ocean. Because I’m not wasting any opportunity to go to the beach. Memories of the warm sand and sunshine are the only things that gets me through the winters in Wyoming.”
I leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth. “As long as you’re wearing that white bikini, I’ll follow you into any ocean, Isabel.”
THE END
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Talk Dirty, Cowboy. Sneak Peek!
Prologue—Four Years Earlier
Bowen
Rampage thrashed his solid body against the sides of the metal chute, thoroughly pissed off before I even took a step towards him. The enormous bull had a reputation for being a mean son of a bitch. He didn’t like the noise of the crowd. He didn’t like the ropes around his middle. He sure as hell didn’t like people. Especially those of us dumb enough to try to ride him.
A slow grin spread across my face as the announcer called my name. I eyed Rampage, silently letting him know that this was happening, and who was boss.
He snorted and kicked out, his hooves clanging against the metal enclosure.
His way of saying “fuck you”, I guessed.
“Fair enough,” I muttered under my breath, quitting the silent standoff with the beast and climbing up the rungs of the chute to prepare for my ride. I grabbed the rope, handed it off to Jimmy, my rope guy, and waited for my spotter to grab the back of my vest. The air around me smelled of dirt and animal, earthy and familiar, and I sucked a breath in deep, pushing it into the very bottom of my lungs, letting them expand. For the briefest moment, I let my eyes close. I heard the roar of the crowd. I heard my guys talking. I heard Rampage thrashing around, refusing to settle.
I pictured the argument I’d had with Camille before I’d left for the airport. I saw her standing in the corner of our bedroom, holding our son’s hand so tenderly but looking at me like she no longer knew me. I saw tears rolling down her face.
I saw me walking out the door.
I held my breath until my lungs screamed for oxygen, and then I let it out in one long whoosh. And with the new breath, I let everything fade away. Nothing else mattered. There was nothing but me, the bull beneath me, and eight seconds to glory. This was why I was here. Not just here at the rodeo, but why I’d been put on this earth. I was born to ride bulls.
I settled on Rampage’s back, and for one split second, the vicious bull that had most cowboys quaking in their boots quieted. The rosin warmed, I shoved my fingers into the handle and wrapped the rope around and through my fingers again, pulling it tight, the same way I had a million times before. My chin tucked, I let my mind go blank. Nothing else mattered. I was ready.
I nodded. The universal cowboy signal for “let’s do this thing”.
The gate swung open with a crack of metal against metal and Rampage exploded onto the dirt floor arena. One hand gripping the handle ropes, I held the other up, well away from the massive bull. His back legs kicked out as he spun in frustrated, angry circles, rearing up, kicking out, twisting, turning, his breath coming in fast pants that matched my own. I mirrored his moves, gripping his muscled torso with my thighs and feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline that coursed through my veins. It was that high that all junkies chased. And I was addicted.
Rampage changed directions, bellowing his anger, but I’d anticipated the move and went with him. Five seconds… Rampage bucked into the air. Every muscle in my body worked to keep me on his back… Six seconds… I dug my spurs in, gripping the beast with everything I had. Dirt flew up around us in clouds, Rampage’s deadly hooves churning up the ground… Seven seconds…
The buzzer sounded and suddenly the entire arena erupted into noise, the world flooding back in like a literal smack to the face. It was deafening, the pure intensity of it, and I breathed it in like I needed it to live. Because I did. I craved this high like nothing else.
The rope loosened and I pulled my hand free, then got the hell off Rampage’s back. My knees hit the black dirt with a thud, a sharp pain curling up through my kneecaps and into my thighs and groin, but without wasting a moment, I pushed to my feet and pumped my legs, running to the side of the arena. I scaled the chute with Rampage’s hot breath at my neck, his deadly horns inches from my back.
He shoulder-barged the fence, giving one last angry bray before turning and running down the tunnels to fresh hay and water.
The guys crowded me, thumping me on the back as a laugh bubbled out of my chest.
“He nearly got you, Bowen,” Jimmy said, elbowing me in the ribs.
I shoved him off with a grin. “Nuh. Not today.”
I stood on the side of the arena, waving to the crowd like the cocky bastard I was. They screamed my name and stamped their feet while I waited for my score. It flashed up on the big screen: 90.7. I whooped, taking off my helmet and tossing it across the arena. Ninety point fucking seven! I punched the air, and the crowd went wild.
“That puts you in number one!” Jimmy crowed, fist in the air right along with me. My eyes widened and I spun around to check the leaderboard. He was right. My name was there in neon lights. Bowen Barclay. Number one.
“Bowen Barclay with the ride of the night, ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer called and a pride like nothing I’d ever felt before spread through me.
This. This feeling. This was what I chased every time I got on the back of a bull. These were the moments I lived for.
I jogged back through the tunnels of the arena to the competitors’ locker rooms, guys congratulating me and stopping me every few steps to shake my hand as I went. I stopped and laughed with Colby, taking his good-natured ribbing in stride, then shoved him off when Deacon, my best friend on the tour, grabbed me by the shoulder. He spun me round and I threw my arm around his shoulders and let out a whoop of delight. “Did ya see that ride? A ninety, Deac! Hell yeah!”
I couldn’t stop grinning. My face was actually hurting from how hard I was smiling.
But Deacon didn’t smile back. He didn’t cheer or yell or pull me in for a semi-awkward hug like we always did when one of us nailed a ride. His face was grim, and my good mood faded.
“What?”
He shook his head, his eyes glistening. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He closed it again, coughing to try to clear his throat, but he looked away, unable to meet my gaze.
My heart froze over.
“Deacon, what? Fucking tell me!” I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, a sinking feeling in my stomach. “What happened? Did I get disqualified?”
He shook his head sadly. “It’s Camille, man. I’m so sorry. Your dad just called. He was real choked up, asked me if I’d tell you. He couldn’t do it. Not on the phone.”
Ice spread through my veins, freezing over the hot-headed, arrogant blood that had coursed there just moments earlier. I shook him again but it was half-hearted, fear making my grip weak. “Tell me what?�
�
“Camille. There was an accident on the farm. She’s…she’s gone, Bowen. The doctors couldn’t save her.”
I stumbled back a step.
“What? No,” I whispered.
Images flashed through my mind. Long dark hair. Smiling blue eyes. Her fingers trailing down my bare back. Her lips pressed to my neck. Her cheek on my chest while we slow danced.
I closed my eyes and saw everything. Saw the last five years of my life. Saw my past. My present and my future.
Then watched it all evaporate into smoke.
* * *
Preorder Talk Dirty, Cowboy (Dirty Cowboy #1) here! Coming January 16, 2020.
Also by Elle Thorpe
*Only the Positive (Only You, #1) - Reese and Low.
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*Only the Perfect (Only You, #2) - Jamison.
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*Only the Truth - (Only You, bonus novella) - Bree.
* * *
*Only the Negatives (Only You, #3) - Gemma.
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*Only the Beginning (Only You, #4) - Bianca and Riley.
* * *
Coming in November 2019…
*All of Him - A single dad anthology, featuring Only the Lies. Only the Lies is a bonus, Only You novella.
* * *
Coming in 2020…
A brand new series!
*Talk Dirty, Cowboy (Dirty Cowboy, #1) - January 16! Preorder now!
*Ride Dirty, Cowboy (Dirty Cowboy, #2)
*Sexy Dirty Cowboy (Dirty Cowboy, #3)
* * *
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www.ellethorpe.com/newsletter
Acknowledgments
All books take a team. And I have a great one. Thank you to all of the following people who have made this book possible.
To Nam, Thomas, Flicky, and Heidi for always being my number one supporters.
To Jolie Vines and Zoe Ashwood, for their developmental and proofreading excellence. And for being my daily sounding board, my encouragement, my voices of reason. Team Rabbit always.
To Sara Massery for all the writing sprints and photoshop feedback. And to Colleen Albert for always having my back in this crazy writerly world!
To my amazing beta team: Ally Murphy, Shellie Maddison, Karen Crompton, and Alisa Cavanaugh. Your feedback is always amazing and I hope you keep enjoying my books because I’m never letting you go!
To Sarah Anderson, for helping me write Isabel’s Christmas disaster list.
To all my amazing bookstagrammers, reviewers and promo team. I can’t even deal with how amazingly creative and supportive you all are. A special shoutout to Marie, who goes above and beyond to pimp me out to anybody who will listen, and has become a good friend in the process. Thank you all for your enthusiasm!
And to all my amazing readers. Thank you for continuing to pick up my books and for loving my characters like I do. You made something pretty amazing happen for me this year. You gave me the ability to write full time. So cheers to each and every one of you who has bought my books, or downloaded them in Kindle Unlimited. Thank you for supporting me, and my family. You’ve helped make my dreams come true, and I love you for it.
Elle xxx
About the Author
Elle Thorpe lives on the sunny east coast of Australia. When she’s not writing stories full of kissing, she’s a wife and mummy to three tiny humans. She’s also official ball thrower to one slobbery dog named Rollo. Yes, she named a female dog after a dirty hot character on Vikings. Don’t judge her. Elle is a complete and utter fangirl at heart, obsessing over The Walking Dead and Outlander to an unhealthy degree. But she wouldn’t change a thing.
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You can find her on Facebook or Instagram(@ellethorpebooks or hit the links below!) or at her website www.ellethorpe.com. If you love Elle’s work, please consider joining her Facebook fan group, Elle Thorpe’s Drama Llamas or joining her newsletter here. www.ellethorpe.com/newsletter