02-Let It Ride Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    A grin unfolded on Eric’s face, capped by a single dimple. He placed a hand over his chest. “Aww . . .” His voice was light, teasing, and he fluttered his long eyelashes. “I didn’t know you cared.”
    The rest of the guys started laughing, and Bridge relaxed a little, joining in at his own expense. He chucked a French fry across the table, and it bounced off Eric’s chin, landing squarely on his paper plate. “You’re just too irresistible.”
    Eric preened. “Knew it.” Then he picked up the fry and popped it into his mouth, chewing with exaggerated flourish. Bridge shook his head.
    “Yeah,” Tripp finally said, getting the convo back on point and backing Bridge up, whether he realized it or not. “Bull riding isn’t for everyone, and it’s not a matter of if you’ll break something, but when .” He turned toward Eric. “We need guys like you on the ground to patch us up so psychos like me can get back in the saddle.”
    “Good point,” Eric conceded. “I’ve actually never broken a bone.”
    “Knock on wood, buddy,” Kent mumbled.
    Tripp laughed. “And I don’t think I have a single one that hasn’t been broke.”
    “And on that note . . .” Marty stood up and nudged Tripp’s shoulder, thankfully ending the current discussion. “We have a couple of things to . . . take care of before the afternoon sessions start.”
    Bridge didn’t have to use too much imagination to guess what those “couple of things” were. His mind had been running scenarios of him with a certain paramedic too often to stretch it very far. “Just remember to put your shirt back on right side out.”
    “Who says we’ll bother wasting time by taking shirts off?” Marty rebounded with a serious note in his voice, but the smirk on his face elicited laughter from the table.
    Bridge watched them walk away and smiled when he saw Marty reach out and let his fingers brush the back of Tripp’s hand. Tripp hooked his pinky around Marty’s. The move was hesitant, covert, but profound nonetheless. When Bridge turned back to the table, he found Eric watching him with those striking eyes. Heat crept into his cheeks again, and he looked down at his plate for a distraction, only to find it empty.
    Eric cleared his throat. “Yeah, I should go get my kit ready.” He rose from the table and began gathering the discards of their lunch. “You guys all done?”
    Bridge and Kent nodded in unison. “Thanks, dude.”
    “See ya later?” Bridge meant it to be a casual later but somehow it became a question. Almost eager.
    Eric lifted a brow a notch and then tipped his head. “Yeah. See ya later.” His gaze shot quickly to Kent and then he turned with hands full, heading for the nearby garbage barrel.
    Bridge couldn’t help but watch Eric walk away, eyes locked on the way his dark-blue work trousers hugged his firm, round ass.
    “So . . .” Kent began when Eric was out of earshot, throwing their plates, cups, and wrappers in the trash. “Going to tell me what’s going on now?”
    “Nope.” Bridge tore his gaze from ogling Eric, hoping Kent hadn’t realized that’s what he’d been doing, and casually scanned the empty arena.
    “There’s really no new girl?”
    Bridge slanted a sideways glance at him. “Like I said.”
    Kent remained silent for so long that Bridge sighed and turned to look at him fully, only to feel like a bug under a microscope with the way Kent stared at him. He knew Kent was reading him like an open book, because really, he was one. He knew that. He didn’t hold much back, didn’t worry what anyone thought about much of anything. He just wanted to rodeo and enjoy life and make his friends laugh. But that didn’t stop him from shifting on the bench again. When the hell did the thing get so damned uncomfortable?
    “What?”
    Kent shrugged. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Nothing in his voice or eyes but concern. “And Marty.”
    Bridge didn’t miss the emphasis Kent put on