Not that it mattered; it was hardly news when a cowboy nailed a girl in town.
A little deflated, he went to his trailer. It was empty; there was no love note slid under the door and no boot marks in the dust. No sign at all that Clay had even tried to get ahold of him.
“Fuck it all to hell,” he muttered, and he went inside to shower.
CLAY climbed into the driver’s seat of his trailer and turned on the GPS, punching in the name of the arena in Grand Forks. Thank heaven Charlie, his sister, had given the thing to him for his birthday two years ago, although with her usual procrastination he’d only had actual physical possession of it for three months. The finances of a rodeo rider didn’t always allow for such luxuries, and it was nice Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
39
when you didn’t know a city. Made it easier to find your way and cut down on gas.
He hit the road, resolved not to think about Jeff at all.
Clay had seen the dark-haired girl come on to Jeff, watched the little play with the beer bottle out of the corner of his eye, and figured he had his answer. Jeff was blowing him off.
Which was fine although considering that he had started this whole thing, Clay thought it would have been better manners to let him be the one to end it.
“Nothing to end,” he told himself. “Nothing at all.
Nothing got started.” He turned up the radio, found a country-western station, and started to sing along. Badly.
JEFF successfully avoided Clay by staying away from the arena in Grand Forks when it wasn’t his turn to ride, scoping out the feed hall before going in, and keeping far away from his trailer. It was working perfectly, except that all that caution kept Clay on his mind all the time.
By the second day, he was starting to calm down, and it showed in the ring. He was mounted on a nasty spinner named Tea Party. Jeff acknowledged the owner’s sense of humor, because it hadn’t been one, but the up side was he’d come away with the high score of the day, beating Clay for the top spot and earning the winner’s purse. It made him Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
40
gloat just a bit, but when BJ urged him to come down to the bar in town to buy him a drink by way of celebration, Jeff refused.
“I got something better to do than get drunk and chase skirts.”
“What’s better than that?” BJ asked, with an amazed stare.
“Gotta get some rest before we get on the road tomorrow,” Jeff said. “I need to stay in the money if I’m going to stay with the tour.”
“Clay’ll be at the bar,” BJ said slyly, watching to see how Jeff took it.
“All the more—if he gets good and plastered, all the better for me when we hit Virginia,” Jeff said. “Besides, aren’t you taking a chance driving and drinking?”
“Okay, maybe you got a point, but you’re missing half the fun of the tour.” BJ shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“I’ll do that.” Jeff watched him walk away in relief, and he wasn’t that close with most of the other riders so he got off scot free once he ducked BJ.
He turned into the narrow alleyway that led between the barns and where the trailers were parked, a convenient shortcut he’d discovered to reach his trailer without passing by Clay’s. As he rounded the corner of the barn, he stopped Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
41
short, just in time to avoid colliding with Clay, who seemed to have had a similar idea.
“Hi,” Clay said.
“Oh, hi.”
“Congratulations on your ride,” Clay said.
“That was no tea party.”
Jeff laughed nervously as they said the same thing at the same time. “Thanks, I guess.” Clay nodded and walked past Jeff, circling as widely as he could in the narrow space. “See ya.”
“Sure thing.” Jeff was aware that his heart was pounding, and he felt sweat collect under the brim of his hat.
He wanted to turn around and watch the easy roll of Clay’s hips as he walked away, but he forced himself to stay where he was. This thing between them had
A little deflated, he went to his trailer. It was empty; there was no love note slid under the door and no boot marks in the dust. No sign at all that Clay had even tried to get ahold of him.
“Fuck it all to hell,” he muttered, and he went inside to shower.
CLAY climbed into the driver’s seat of his trailer and turned on the GPS, punching in the name of the arena in Grand Forks. Thank heaven Charlie, his sister, had given the thing to him for his birthday two years ago, although with her usual procrastination he’d only had actual physical possession of it for three months. The finances of a rodeo rider didn’t always allow for such luxuries, and it was nice Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
39
when you didn’t know a city. Made it easier to find your way and cut down on gas.
He hit the road, resolved not to think about Jeff at all.
Clay had seen the dark-haired girl come on to Jeff, watched the little play with the beer bottle out of the corner of his eye, and figured he had his answer. Jeff was blowing him off.
Which was fine although considering that he had started this whole thing, Clay thought it would have been better manners to let him be the one to end it.
“Nothing to end,” he told himself. “Nothing at all.
Nothing got started.” He turned up the radio, found a country-western station, and started to sing along. Badly.
JEFF successfully avoided Clay by staying away from the arena in Grand Forks when it wasn’t his turn to ride, scoping out the feed hall before going in, and keeping far away from his trailer. It was working perfectly, except that all that caution kept Clay on his mind all the time.
By the second day, he was starting to calm down, and it showed in the ring. He was mounted on a nasty spinner named Tea Party. Jeff acknowledged the owner’s sense of humor, because it hadn’t been one, but the up side was he’d come away with the high score of the day, beating Clay for the top spot and earning the winner’s purse. It made him Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
40
gloat just a bit, but when BJ urged him to come down to the bar in town to buy him a drink by way of celebration, Jeff refused.
“I got something better to do than get drunk and chase skirts.”
“What’s better than that?” BJ asked, with an amazed stare.
“Gotta get some rest before we get on the road tomorrow,” Jeff said. “I need to stay in the money if I’m going to stay with the tour.”
“Clay’ll be at the bar,” BJ said slyly, watching to see how Jeff took it.
“All the more—if he gets good and plastered, all the better for me when we hit Virginia,” Jeff said. “Besides, aren’t you taking a chance driving and drinking?”
“Okay, maybe you got a point, but you’re missing half the fun of the tour.” BJ shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“I’ll do that.” Jeff watched him walk away in relief, and he wasn’t that close with most of the other riders so he got off scot free once he ducked BJ.
He turned into the narrow alleyway that led between the barns and where the trailers were parked, a convenient shortcut he’d discovered to reach his trailer without passing by Clay’s. As he rounded the corner of the barn, he stopped Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
41
short, just in time to avoid colliding with Clay, who seemed to have had a similar idea.
“Hi,” Clay said.
“Oh, hi.”
“Congratulations on your ride,” Clay said.
“That was no tea party.”
Jeff laughed nervously as they said the same thing at the same time. “Thanks, I guess.” Clay nodded and walked past Jeff, circling as widely as he could in the narrow space. “See ya.”
“Sure thing.” Jeff was aware that his heart was pounding, and he felt sweat collect under the brim of his hat.
He wanted to turn around and watch the easy roll of Clay’s hips as he walked away, but he forced himself to stay where he was. This thing between them had
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