Bullheaded Read Online Free PDF Page A

help celebrate his victory.
    He pushed the door open and went in, stopping just inside for a moment to locate Cody. And there he was, on top of the mechanical bull, naturally, showing off for a bunch of hooting, hollering riders, his charm gun turned up to full blast. He had a beer mug in one hand and held it so he didn’t spill a drop as the bull rocked and dipped. When he caught sight of Johnny, Cody’s gaze went seductive and sultry. He licked his lips and then laughed mockingly at himself. Luckily, there were plenty of girl groupies around in case anyone was watching.
    Dub stopped by Johnny. “Hey, bullfighter. Name’s Dub. You had some nice saves tonight. Appreciate it. Can I get you a beer?”
    “Johnny,” Johnny replied. “No thanks on the beer; designated driver. Water for me.”
    “You came in on the Top Cut tour when that other bullfighter Chris Bellow got hooked, right?”
    “Yeah, Vern had me working in the touring division for a while. While Chris is healing up, I’m holding his place for him.”
    “Well, you’ve been doing a great job. The boys are beginning to take notice too.” Dub playfully nudged Johnny in the ribs. “See you around. Don’t drink too much of that H2O now. Sober hangovers are the worst. Damn that Cody anyway!”
    Johnny watched Dub dart off toward the mechanical bull, and nailed his feet to the floor to stop himself from chasing after him. Cody was getting up on his feet to stand on the saddle while the mechanical bull was still moving. Now he was slopping his beer all over, his face flushed red, laughing as the boys standing too close got splashed from his mug. Dub was there to catch Cody when he lost his balance, and with another cowboy, they raised Cody onto their shoulders to parade him around the bar.
    His muscles relaxed when Dub rescued Cody and his ego from a stupid fall. When Johnny noticed the fool stunt he wanted to run over and save Cody from his idiocy, but he’d made himself stay put. It went against his instincts to see a cowboy in trouble with a bull, even a mechanical one, but what would people say if he charged through the crowd and pulled Cody down from his perch? And most likely Cody would have started yelling at him for being stupid. A little fall like that wouldn’t have hurt him anyway, drunk as he was, and the bar had mats and straw on the floor.
    “Always got to show off,” Johnny muttered, but then he had to laugh. After all, that was Cody. That was all bull riders, showing off their cajones inside the ring and out. If they didn’t have that alpha-male gene thing going on, they wouldn’t ride bulls. He went to the bar for his bottle of water and settled down in a corner to wait until Cody was ready to call it a night.

    “I’ M GETTING too old for this.”
    “Thirty-two’s not old.”
    “Feels like it tonight.”
    “Because of drinking, or riding?”
    Cody draped his arm over Johnny’s shoulder now that they were almost to their room in the hotel, using him as a crutch to limp along. “Both. Mostly the drinking.”
    “Let’s see, you might have gotten a slight concussion Wednesday and the beginning of a hip pointer—”
    “It’s just a little bruise,” Cody interjected.
    “Whatever. And you’re drunk. Takes a real man to hold his booze,” Johnny said. “You gotta practice more if you insist on going out and whooping it up when you win.”
    “Hey, Dub wants to buy me a drink and then everyone else wants to come and watch me drink it and then I get to stand them all a round in appreciation. Or two or three.” Cody hiccupped and laughed. “There go my winnings!”
    “It’s a fine old tradition. You said so yourself.” Johnny unlocked the door to their room and they staggered inside. He walked Cody to the bed and let him fall on it and bounce.
    “Some traditions are stupid.”
    “But we still do them.”
    Cody lifted his head and leered. “Here’s a tradition I like better. Take off your clothes.”
    “If you take yours