While a woman dressed in all black rubbed Vaseline on her teeth, Lil wondered how she’d come to this place in her life.
She’d slept like garbage the night before but was dressed in her finest—the clothes she would wear for the finale. She’d braided her hair with immaculate precision that morning and it showed. A single thick braid began at her hairline and trailed along the central line of her skull and down her neck and back like an exposed spine. She’d freshened her undercut, shaving in a double lightning bolt on either side, in the process.
There were dark circles under her eyes, but they weren’t puffy anymore. She hadn’t cried last night, awake or in her sleep. AJ’s kiss had had her tossing and turning for other reasons, but she’d taken that gratefully over the alternative—especially the night before press day.
The Vaseline forced her smile wider and she turned on cue as the team shot her from multiple angles.
“Such delicate bones!” a woman with a white-blond pixie cut exclaimed.
“You’d never guess she was a rodeo star,” a bombshell redhead with shoulder-length hair said.
Everyone in the room wore black. The production team sported various combinations of boatneck tops, ballet flats, plain T-shirts, and jeans—all in black. Lil did too, but made it look Western, wearing black boots, Wranglers, and a button-up beneath her granddad’s vest.
They’d lost their minds when they’d seen it.
“This is definitely going to be the theme!”
“The whole thing! All around this!”
“Grab my blue pallet, Kelly!”
“Seriously, fabulous!”
Lil’d stammered thank-yous in reply, tried to get it out there that it was her gran’s work, and then followed the instructions they began shouting out at her.
“What fascinating eyes you have,” a woman with a sharp short black bob said as she powdered her face.
Lil grimaced, knowing now they were her father’s eyes, but mumbled, “Thank you,” by reflex.
Another woman shouted, “Keep your mouth open, please!” though, so she stopped trying to respond at all.
Which left her alone in her mind to dwell on AJ. The same thing she’d had far too much time to do recently.
She’d arrived in Vegas a sweating mess, questioning her instincts in ways she never had.
Her entire life was evidence of the truth: cowboys disappeared. Even if they said they loved you. Both things could be true.
Her body told a different story. One she knew better than to pay any attention to. His kiss sure knew how to linger. It was the thought that her mind most wanted to jump to whenever she stopped being vigilant.
Her body was tricky. It would sneak into it, creating brand-new pathways with each guerrilla attack. It might start as a phantom tingle across her lips and the memory of the pressure of his against hers. The next time it would be her breath catching, nipples hardening while her chest went heavy and sensitive at the memory of the way he’d stepped into her space. Once she’d wrangled it again, it’d return as something different yet again, a flavor on her tongue, a memory of the times before the kiss, times they’d gone further and he’d set her on fire from the inside out.
But she knew what happened to women who listened to their bodies. They died, abandoned in roadside motels, with only their mothers to identify them. And those men raised other children.
So she wouldn’t bend. Not when everything was at stake.
Following makeup, the day passed in a blur of videos, photo shoots, and the sponsor’s dinner.
Lil avoided both AJ and Hank wherever possible, allowing herself to be corralled with the two of them only for obligatory top three photos. She smiled until her face hurt, sad the Vaseline was no longer there to force a smile for her.
At the end of the day, she hung her clothes up to wear again for the real deal the next day, and crawled into bed feeling painted on and sucked dry.
She woke up once, blamed it on AJ and forced herself back into a fitful sleep for the rest of the night.
In the morning, the hollows under her eyes were deeper, but her expression one of grim purpose.
One way or another, after tonight, it was all over. Tomorrow she’d be going home.
She splashed water on her face and repeated her braid from the day before. Later, she would put on the same vest and jeans she’d worn the day before, she’d don her chaps and hat, and she’d walk out to compete in the final event of the closed circuit reality rodeo.
They would draw their bulls just before go time, AJ first, Hank second, her with what was left, but every draw was a proven beast—Cortes, Shadow Haint, and Sweet Suzy—each one undefeated. Each one a certified man killer.
Once a bull got a taste for blood, it wanted more. Just like everything else.
Her mind hopped back to AJ before she dragged it back to the day ahead. She needed a plan. Breakfast, then...what? The afternoon stretched out ahead of her, the free time before the big event really more a tyranny than a boon. She could call AJ. Spend the day distracted by his body. Her heartbeat raced at the thought. But it wasn’t real. She couldn’t. Not if he loved her. She would feel it, and feeling it, she wouldn’t be able to deny him.
The body wouldn’t win.
But she needed something good for the mind. She settled on room service and binge-watching a costume drama. She’d have to keep it light with the snacking and even the most complicated plot wouldn’t be able to keep her mind fully off AJ and the event, but it was her best shot.
It was more effective than she’d imagined. Ten hours later, after her alarm had gone off, she came out of her TV stupor. She’d ordered cheese, charcuterie, and hummus platters and stuck to drinking water throughout the day and felt...good. Even when she’d changed into full gear and checked herself in the mirror one last time, the sense of peace lasted. Something good was going to happen—even if she lost, tonight was the night her stress would come to an end.
The feeling lasted about as long as it took to get to the casino arena.
Three separate groups of young men approached just to mess with her, as she was an obvious target for torment in her full riding gear.
“You’re kinda small for a bull rider.”
“Maybe they’re all tiny, like jockeys!”
While this was met with uproarious laughter, the first group let her step around them and continue on her way without further hassle. The second bunch wasn’t so magnanimous.
“Not so fast, shorty!” A stumbling man with a half-full yardstick daiquiri shouted. “You look like a woman to us. We’re not letting you leave til we see your dick!” He reached out to grab Lil by the shoulder at the same time as he spoke.
She tilted her body to give him a small karate chop in the elbow, forcing him to bend his arm and let go of her shoulder.
“I am. Cut it out and use your manners when you’re talking to a lady.”
His buddy whispered loudly, “She’s a ninja, Bret. Let’s go.”
Bret’s eyes widened and he took a step back, then turned all the way around to walk away from the big scary ninja.
Lil offered a mental thanks to the dumb drunk who thought small and black equaled ninja. He’d saved her some trouble.
Like her life was a fairy tale, the third group was the worst: a bachelorette party.
“Oh my god! Female cross-dressing, I love it. So empowering! Tell me where your show is. I absolutely have to know.” The woman’s eyes were a bit glassy, but the fervor in her voice and the badge on her purple spaghetti strap midi dress that read CERTIFIED MAID OF HONOR told Lil she was the organizer behind the madness.
Lil raised her hands, palms up. “Sorry, ma’am. That isn’t my performance.”
A redhead in a bright green dress of the same style narrowed her emerald eyes and said, “Then tell her what your performance is.” She wore a white sash diagonally across her chest that read BRIDE—not that Lil needed the label. The few weddings they’d hosted at the ranch before abandoning that idea were enough for Lil to recognize the particular tone a woman got when a day was all about her.
The rest of the group watched, a complete rainbow of dresses, sharing the same intensity in their same glassy glares, an intensity that had nothing to do with interest and everything to do with immense hunger—for drama, for a perfect moment to capture, for a memory to talk about for ever after, every time this night came up.
Just what I need, Lil thought. She spoke slowly and clearly, “I’m with the rodeo.”
Yellow, a gorgeously tan brunette, squealed, “Oh my god! She has an accent!”
“A female rodeo cowboy? Oh my god!” Blue, a sunny blonde, also tan, covered the O of her mouth with her hand to emphasize her point.
“Oh my god, you’re so brave!” This came from Red, who was milky pale, black haired, and blue eyed.
Orange, a hazel-eyed girl next-door type, asked, “Is it scary?” in a sweet, trembly, voice.
Purple silenced the rest with a hand. “Can you get us tickets?”
“Uh. I don’t know. I’d have to ask.”
“Will you ask?” This from the bride. Her pout had an edge to it, like a shank carved out of a bar of soap.
“I’d love to ask for you—” Lil started, but stopped as each of the women’s mouths dropped open into perfect little circles. They looked like a nest of baby birds, but vacant instead of hungry.
Lil turned slowly, knowing what she’d find.
AJ stood behind her, enormously tall and muscled, turned out to a T in his navy button-up, cream cowboy hat, and crisp blue jeans. His boots were brown, soft and supple, and his freshly shaved face looked like smooth silk in the flashing lights of the casino floor.
“My friend and I can certainly assist you lovely ladies. Why don’t you come along with me?” He laid the drawl on heavy at the end and the women melted in front of him.
The bride squealed and the whole crew joined in with whistles and heys, and Lil tried to steady her heart. Each and every one of these women wanted him. Hell, the bride even let out a tiny sigh following behind him while she twirled her engagement ring.
Not a single one looked back at Lil. She hadn’t moved. He’d saved her, but the price was watching him walk away surrounded by a sea of adoring women. She would have rather saved herself.
With that certainty dragging through what was left of her peace, she made it the rest of the way to the draw platform unmolested.
AJ was already there. A quick glance around the gates revealed that AJ had installed the rainbow crew where buckle bunnies typically parked, which, honestly, seemed fitting. They’d certainly have something to talk about for years to come. A few of them might even walk away with cowboy memories of a more personal nature.
Hank jogged up the four stairs to the platform last, a bit out of breath, after she’d selected one of the positions around the draw bowl—a big silver thing that was way too large for the three note cards folded and tossed in its center.
The arena was packed, but hushed, and it was a strange sensation, being surrounded by thousands of people holding their breath. Everyone’s attention was on the bowl, the jumbotron cameras zoomed in on its future-changing contents.
Everything was about the bulls tonight.
Shadow Haint was the lightweight of the bunch. He’d killed just once, and never otherwise maimed. Cortes came in second: he’d killed once, and broken many a cowboy’s legs, collarbones, and arms. Sweet Suzy had killed twice and been responsible for paralyzing four additional men. His stompings were legendary.
The announcer built the drama until the audience was gasping and it was time to draw a card. AJ went first, then Hank, and Lil took what was left.
Her hand shook slightly as she unfolded her card. She nearly jumped as she first saw the large black C of Cortes. The sweet spot. No draw turned out to be just a fine draw after all.
She looked over to AJ to see what he’d drawn and couldn’t read his face. Then he smiled and raised his card high in the air.
“Sweet Suzy!”
Lil’s stomach sank. AJ got the most dangerous bull.
The bulls determined the order for the event. She was up first on the mighty Cortes, AJ up next on Sweet Suzy, and then Hank would take on Shadow Haint. But Sweet Suzy was one of the deadliest bulls in PBRA history.
She couldn’t focus on that. Not when she was about to take on a man killer herself. AJ was the best of the three of them. He was the best suited to take on Sweet Suzy.
An announcer gave a five-minute-start warning over the PA system and Lil’s heart thundered, her mind spinning images of bad falls and gaggles of women in rainbow dresses hanging all over AJ.
The arena seated forty thousand and was supposedly sold out. That many people were watching her.
A large warm hand clamped down on her shoulder. He stayed behind her, but leaned down to whisper in her ear: “You’ve got this.”
She tried to turn and face him, but his firm grip on her shoulder wouldn’t let her, and then he was passing her, down the stairs in a few steps, and enveloped by a rainbow sea.
She vowed to wear black for the rest of her life.
Just as soon as she found her calm place.
Gran’s last words to her back at the ranch sprang into her mind unbidden.
Gran was always working some long-range plan, meddling in people’s lives. Granddad said they would’ve been rich if she’d spent half that energy on making money.
Lil had laughed. She wasn’t laughing now. Then it was her granddad’s voice she heard in her head, less a memory than a transmission: Pour it into the ride.
A calm settled over her. The fear, the confusion, AJ, her father—it was all going into the ride. The resolution settled in her chest like an anchor and she stepped onto the platform sure.
The arena erupted, thousands of girls pinning their hopes on her.
The knowledge was a burden, but she welcomed the pressure, she bore it repeating her mantra, even as she lowered her body on the back of an angry man killer.
Pour it into the ride.