Page 23 of Untamed
A bull that is said to "change directions" exhibits a bucking pattern in which he changes direction laterally forward and backward or side to side.
This is fucking torture. I don’t know how long I can avoid her. I think about her for reasons I can’t explain. Or maybe don’t want to. Fuck, I need to get laid. And then I wonder what the fuck am I doing here.
Because I’m a man of my word.
That’s why.
My brothers and me—not my kid sister, Dani—but us boys, we were raised with the mindset you work for a living. When there’s work to be done, you put in the dedication to get it done. When you want to be the best, you bust your ass to be it. There’s no easy way out. In bull riding, you go from being a kid to a man real quick. I faced my share of tragedy growing up—Mom died when I was five giving birth to Dani, and I was raised by one of the harshest old men you can imagine, but I think he brought us up to be men. When we owe someone money, or you make a promise, you honor it. You make good on your word.
When my dad got sick, and eventually passed away from kidney failure, there was a lot he didn’t get a chance to do and honor.
That included cattle that was never paid for to the Calhoun’s. I wasn’t going to let that go. Dad would have skinned my ass. Sure, I could pay Archer the money Dad owed him, but labor meant a hell of a lot more to a man with a ranch. I wasn’t due in Biloxi until next week, so I had some time to tie up loose ends for my family.
Now if only I had thought about that before I went and messed around with Archer’s daughter.
Fuck me. No, seriously, I fucking knew better, yet those pleading green eyes and that carefree determination got the better of me, and I caved. It didn’t help that there had been a goddamn magnetic pull dragging my ass toward her.
I’m a man who tells it like it is—loyal to a fault—I’m always me. You get one version. And I want a woman who stands up for herself, puts me in my place when I’ve pissed her off and you know, I’m all about control, but I’m not afraid to let a woman boss me around between the sheets. Outside the bed, that’s another story altogether. My point being, I go for the ones who can handle me.
Maesyn, oh, she can fuckin’ handle me all right, but she’s also seventeen. Had I known that, no goddamn way would I have ever looked her way.
And here’s why.
When I was eighteen, I’d just gotten my pro card for professional bull riding, something I’d been working toward my entire life. I was set to make my debut in Billings, Montana. I’d been riding since I was fourteen and had been makin’ a good amount of money doin’ it too. Coming from a long line of bull riders, I knew what I wanted to be, and nothing was going to stand in my way. Or so I thought.
My older brother, Reid, he had been dominating the tour and ranked number one in the world leading into that weekend. Ty, my little brother, he’d been seeing this chick for about six months. Selena. I didn’t know her and had little interaction with her. And never had I spent any time alone with her.
And then came one Friday night in late April when Selena was raped. There’s a long story behind what actually occurred that night, most of which I don’t care to know. Ty called the police when Selena showed up at the house, bloody and crying, but she refused to tell him who did it. The last he knew she’d been at a college party with her older brother.
After days in the dark, she blamed the rowdy Easton brothers because no one would question her given our unruly, “known to be a little on the wild side” nature. Reid and I were arrested and charged with rape. Rape of a minor. She was sixteen.
We weren’t even in the same goddamn town as her that night, yet because her daddy was the mayor, it didn’t fucking matter. Dad got us a good lawyer out of California but being in the public eye and pro athletes, it didn’t matter. A statutory rape charge might as well be murder in their eyes, despite if you’re guilty or not. Once PBR found out, the board had something to say about it.
Reid was suspended for six months and out of contention for the championship. My pro card was revoked and suspended for six months as well. We appealed immediately.
Not long after that, she came out and said she lied, still refused to name who actually hurt her, but the damage had been done for Reid and me. They reinstated our pro cards, but we’d missed so many events by then Reid had fallen out of the top ten in the world with no chance of making up ground by October.
Reid and I moved to Decatur, Texas, while Ty and Dani stayed in Ellensburg with our dad. And until now, I had no plans of coming back to this town. Not after the way they turned their back on us and believed a lie, all because the mayor’s daughter got drunk and took off with a group of college kids she didn’t know.
But still, I’m a man of my word and I wouldn’t let my dad down, knowing he had unfinished business out there. He gave up any dreams of his own to raise us kids and he deserved to rest in peace.
And here I am, making good on my word and quite frankly, regretting it.
I’m out in the back field, eyeing the damage to Calhoun’s barn when I notice a shorter version of Maesyn standing next to me, her hands on her hips. She’s scowlin’ at me too. Apparently I’ve pissed her off too.
She sighs, staring at me. “Do people call you Gray?”
“Not if they want me to answer.” Reaching forward, I rip off a few boards that hang haphazardly by loose nails.
“So you’re really a world champion?”
“For bull riding.”
“Not for anything else?”
“No.” Glancing down at her, I frown. “What’s the point of this conversation?”
“How are you at fighting?”
