Page 20 of Untamed
A bull on the PBR tour.
Haylee hands me a beer as Turnpike Turnadour’s “Long Hot Summer Day” blares through her phone. The afternoon sun heats up the day to a scorching blaze. Morgan’s in the only patch of shade, smothered from head to toe in SPF 50 and collecting worms and garter snakes. Let’s hope there are no rattlers near here.
The dock steams as I dip my hand in the water to splash some on my burning face. My tight sun-kissed skin tingles with each passing minute, but I’m too lazy to get up and jump off the end of the dock. Haylee is too, and at one point, she rolls to her left and falls off the side of the dock into the water.
My mind keeps going back to that look Grayer gave me. I’m such an asshole. I knowwhyI lied to him, but he doesn’t.
“I think I should break it off with Tucker,” Haylee says, resting her chin on her hands as she lies on her stomach. Water drips from the end of her nose.
“You should have a long time ago.”
“I know.”
Looking over the top of my Ray Bans at her, I study her face, wondering what caused her to suddenly change her mind. “So why now?”
“It feels wrong. And we’re leaving soon anyway. There’d be no point.”
Haylee and I, we have no plan, no destination in mind, just that we’re leaving town the day I turn eighteen in hopes of adventure and unplanned freedom. I think the fact that we don’t know where we’re heading adds to the excitement of it.
“Have you googled Grayer Easton yet?” Haylee wipes drops of water from her fair freckled skin.
I hadn’t thought about it until now. Then I remember the naked photos that apparently existed in cyberspace. “No . . .” But damn if I won’t be doing that right now. “I got home at four in the morning.”
I’m a little surprised that Haylee doesn’t remember driving me home last night. But then again, I’m not. Her short-term memory is crap.
Intrigued by the thought of googling Grayer, I pull up an Internet browser on my phone and type his name in. I’m pleasantly rewarded when it loads. It’s tempting to click on the ones with Grayer naked, and I only know they do in fact exist when I see the title:PBR World Champion Ditches the Chaps.
“Oh shit, click on that!” Haylee encourages, practically knocking my phone into the water.
Morgan bounces over and sits next to us with her bucket of worms and one garter snake. “What are you doing?”
Fearing Morgan’s innocence might be ruined if I click on the naked ones, I frown and click on the link that sends us to the PBR.com website. Big mistake because it only makes my obsession worse when I see pictures of him on a bull with chaps and that same cowboy hat he always wears. Ever seen a man in chaps? Sexiest image ever. For now. I’m sure when I look up those naked ones I’ll be thinking differently.
The first link I click on is a YouTube video of a ride last year at the World Championship in Vegas.
Grayer Easton rides Bruiser for 92.75 points
Yep, watching that. It’s not the cowboy hat and chaps that get me, though they’re hot. It’s the confident nod right in the chute that sends a thrill through my heart. It’s because I recognize it. I saw it last night as I was getting out of the truck.
After watching all of two seconds, Haylee gets up on her knees—because she’s inappropriate—and makes a motion with her hand in the air as if a guy’s doing someone doggie style. She throws her left arm up, mimicking Grayer’s ride. “Do you think he’d throw his hand up like this during—” She pauses, her eyes darting to Morgan. “—playtime?”
Naturally, I imagine it as if my mind hadn’t already gone there. There’s a good part of me that wishes I wouldn’t have given him a blow job. I should have taken him for a ride because what if I never get the chance to now?
And why am I so concerned about it? It’s not like me to care this much about a guy.
Holding the phone closer, trying to block out the glare from the sun, I replay the video from the beginning and pay attention to every detail of the ride. He’s in the chute when the video begins, mounting a bull that’s raging pissed, and messing with the rope that’s around the bull. Two guys are beside him helping him get on the bull and making sure he’s adjusted. Once situated, he keeps his eyes down and his left hand behind his body. That’s when he gives a nod—a sexy fucking nod—and the chute opens and out come two wild animals. One with four legs that’s so out of control that a mere mortal isn’t going to tame him . . . and another wild animal with two legs that’s hell-bent on taming the beast between his legs.
My mind scrambles. Or maybe it doesn’t scramble, but it floods with thoughts and I’m left with an assessment. He’s the sexiest, most confident man I’ve ever seen and this just might be the most intense thing I’ve ever seen. Why had I never paid much attention to bull riding? I’ve known a few bull riders. Jamie and Joel both rode in the Ellensburg Rodeo every year, but it’s nothing like this. They never had the talent Grayer has, or the confidence.
The bull he’s on would scare the shit out of normal people, but not Grayer. He’s confident and focused right up until the buzzer sounds. An eight-second ride flashes on the screen.
I didn’t know a damn thing about bull riding other than they have to stay on for eight seconds. The more I check out the website, the more informed I become. Both the bull and the rider are scored on the ride, but the goal is to stay on the bull for eight seconds, with only one hand, without touching the bull with the other. All the while that bull is bucking, rearing, kicking, and spinning underneath them in an attempt to throw the rider off. Sounds easy enough.
Yeah, right. I wonder if he gets nervous? He certainly doesn’t look like he is in the videos.
“Oh look, terms that bull riders use!” Haylee points to the link at the top of the page.
Haylee’s impressed with the terms and points to the screen. “Oh God, I’d love to be covered by a bull rider for sure!” And then laughs, reading on. “Flank strap? That sounds fun. Think he keeps one in his truck? Oh . . . and what about seeded.”
