Rodeo: A Bad Boy Romance (FMX Bros Book 2)

  My phone buzzed as I headed across the patio toward the house. It was a text from Sayler. “Decided I didn’t want to be alone.”

  “You want me to come over?”

  “I’m out front already.”

  I walked to the gate. She was standing on the driveway with her arms crossed around herself, looking completely lost and alone. It was a look I’d seen on her too often. Bad decisions or not, she never deserved any of it.

  She dropped her arms and ran to me. I grabbed her close and held her tight, fucking relieved to be holding her and determined to keep her safe and with me forever. I’d never felt this possessive about anyone, but Sayler was different. She knew me. She knew my flaws, and she knew how to look right past them. Sayler needed me as much as I needed her.

  She’d buried her face against my shoulder. I hadn’t realized she was crying until her shoulders shook. I took hold of her and leaned her away from me so I could look at her face. Her nose was pink from crying. “First of all, no one should look this damn cute when they’re crying.”

  A quiet laugh bubbled from her lips.

  “And second, I told you I’m going to help you. You aren’t just some chick I met and had a good time with. You’re Sayler. You’re a part of my past, a part of who I am. If the world was coming to an end and I was told I could save one person, I wouldn’t even have to think about it. It would be you. Even before you walked back into my life, it would’ve been you, Sayler.”

  A glimmer of a smile appeared. “Wouldn’t that be a kick in the ass to civilization if we were the two people given the job of starting the human race again.”

  “It would be a big job, but I’d totally be up for it. We could just fuck like rabbits and not give a damn about anything else.” I took her hand and led her into the house. We crept down the hallway to my room.

  “It’s so nice and warm in here. My tin box of a home is starting to feel like a refrigerator.”

  “More reason for you to just stay with me while you get things straightened out.” I’d said the wrong thing . . . again.

  She sat on the bed and covered her face.

  “You wouldn’t have to stay long.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Shit, Sayler, then what? I don’t seem to know what to say anymore, not a good thing if we’re going to be the last two people on Earth.” This time my joke didn’t snap her out of her funk.

  She lowered her hands and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t stay here with you. I don’t want to bring my dirty laundry here.”

  “So use a laundry mat,” I suggested, once again hoping to cheer her up.

  “Stop, Parker.” She peered up at me. Her big brown eyes were puffy from crying. “That man, the one I owe money to—he found me.”

  Adrenaline tightened every muscle in my body. “Did he hurt you? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

  She waved her hand at me. “Because of this, the way you’re standing there right now like a giant steel fist ready to pummel someone. This isn’t just some horny, drunk goober who got a little too excited about my dance. He’s a dangerous, hardcore drug dealer.”

  “They aren’t generally friendly and polite. But you’re not going to deal with this alone.”

  “That’s just it. Everything had been all arranged between us. Chambers had agreed to smaller payments every two weeks until I was paid up. That job was the only way I could earn good money fast. Now I’m screwed. And the worst part is—he knows I got fired tonight. One of his loyal bloodhounds was at the club, and he saw the whole thing.”

  “Shit.” I sat on the bed next to her. “We’re going to do that show in two weeks, and I’ll earn enough to pay the asshole off.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but I stopped her. “You can pay me back instead of him. And you can pay me as much or as little as you like.” I reached over and pulled her into my lap. She rested her head against my shoulder. “But I will charge interest. And it can only be paid back by these lips.” I ran my thumb across her bottom lip and followed my touch with a kiss.

  Chapter 19

  Sayler

  In my life, things generally only went smoothly for short dashes of time. It seemed I was always waiting for the bump in the road. It was a terrible way to be. My new job in the dance studio had been nothing short of amazing. Parker and I were growing closer than ever, spending most of our free time together. I hadn’t seen or heard from Chambers since the night I’d lost my job. But then the two week deadline was still three days away. Apparently, drug dealer or not, he was staying true to his word and giving me the full amount of time. I was nearly sick with the thought of having to borrow the money from Parker, but without the stripping job I had no way to earn enough short of robbing a bank. And since my connection to Chambers already had one of my feet dangling on the other side of the prison yard fence, I wasn’t about to try anything else rash or stupid. I’d spent my whole life making ridiculously bad decisions, and I was done with it.

  The one thing I hadn’t agreed to was moving in with Parker. I was still dragging too much embarrassing baggage with me, and I absolutely didn’t want Cole and Denver to know about it, or worse, end up in danger because of it.

  I pulled up to Cole’s house. My car had been running steadily since Parker had put his magic touch on it. Growing up on a ranch had done more than make him an expert horseman; he was a good mechanic too. In fact, for a guy who most of the high school teachers had written off as someone who was too rowdy to ever settle down to a future, he’d definitely proved them wrong.

  I could hear a motorcycle rumbling in the backyard and headed that direction. Parker had mentioned that they’d be practicing their jumps before the big show on Saturday. And I, like always, was excited to watch. Parker had always been one of those absurdly fearless guys, the one to take the terrifying jump into the river from the highest rock ridge, or the one to hop on the pissed-off stallion that no one else had the guts to get near. When I’d heard he’d taken up freestyle motocross, it hadn’t surprised me at all. And he seemed just as happy riding motorcycles as horses.

  I walked through the back gate. The muted pink sky of dusk was painted over the landscape, and the shadows and warm air were disappearing with the sun. I pulled my sweatshirt hood up over my ears and yanked up the zipper. The brisk air was nothing compared to the glacial temperatures in Montana, but living in California, as Parker liked to point out every time I pulled on a sweater or coat, was making me soft. Winter in California was like a pleasant spring in Montana. For someone like Parker who preferred to be outdoors for work and play, it really was the perfect location.

  I strolled across the property to the back wall where the narrow metal ramp was set up. Parker and Denver were perched on the back wall watching as Cole leaned down over his bike and took off toward the ramp. A gasoline scented mist trailed behind him as he raced across the yard. The tires thudded against the metal ramp, and the bike shot up and arced high in the air. As the bike flew up, Cole took his feet off the pegs, and while still holding the handlebars, kicked his legs straight up into a handstand. My stomach did that little elevator lurch thing as he swept his feet back down to the pegs and landed on the dirt hill on the opposite side. He swung the bike around and reached the wall at the same time as me.

  “Nice Hart Attack, bro.” Parker hopped down and high fived Cole before wrapping his arm around my waist and dragging me against his side for a kiss.

  I lifted a brow in confusion. “Did you just say nice heart attack? Didn’t know nice was an adjective to couple with the words ‘heart attack’.”

  Parker laughed. “Not heart attack.” He tapped his chest. “Hart attack. The trick was named after Carey Hart, the freestyle rider.”

  “Ah that makes more sense. Awesome Hart Attack, Cole.” I inclined my head toward him. “I wish you many more. And let me
just say I think a piece of my stomach stayed up there at the peak of your jump. Like I was flying right along with you.”

  “Yeah? Cool. Guess that means I really nailed it,” Cole said.

  “That’s what we call the true audience experience, four dimensional instead of just three.” Denver’s motocross boots kicked up a respectable amount of dust as he dropped down from the wall. “You going next, Rodeo?”

  Parker nodded but not with his usual enthusiasm. Denver seemed to read his mind. He grabbed Parker’s helmet from the wall and handed it to him. “Look, I’ve watched you land that three-sixty in the pit at least a dozen times. You’re there, physically. But if you’re not there up here—” Denver tapped the top of Parker’s head. “Then leave it for another time. There’ll be other shows, and you’ve got plenty of tricks in your bag for this weekend.”

  Parker looked toward the ramp and seemed to be contemplating the whole thing. I was feeling nervous just knowing that he was anxious about the jump. He clapped his hands together once. “Got my pretty good luck charm here, and I’m ready to do this.” He kissed me again.

  “Now I’m really nervous. Don’t count on me for luck.” I shot him a look that was meant only for his eyes. “As you know, good luck doesn’t exactly follow me around.”

  “I guess you need to find a good luck charm. I’ve got mine and you’re it. Besides, the time’s right. I can feel it.” Parker pulled on his helmet and saluted all of us. He walked over to his bike, plucked the gloves off the handlebars and yanked them on. He lifted his goggles from around his neck and positioned them over his eyes. Cole had turned off his bike but he used his booted foot as a kickstand as he stayed on the motorcycle to watch Parker ride back and forth to warm up the motor. I followed Denver back to the wall. He crouched down and laced his fingers for me to have a step up onto the wall.

  I hoisted myself up and positioned my bottom on top of the bricks. “I was just having a weird moment of déjà vu, and you were my best friend, Kylie Urias, giving me a leg up to the tallest set of bars on the playground.”

  Denver pulled himself up next to me. “Those were the days, right? Recess. It just didn’t get any better than recess. Although I did have this cool third grade teacher who would put on Goosebumps movies if recess was rained out.”

  “Goosebumps? Nice. We used to watch agriculture informational movies in the cafeteria if it was raining or snowing. Which it did . . . a lot. After a snowstorm, all the school kids would be up at six in the morning watching the local news waiting to hear whether or not school had been cancelled. You could almost hear the collective cheer echo off the mountains whenever the news anchor announced that the schools were closed due to snow.”

  “We had those days in Boston too.”

  “So you weren’t born and raised in California?”

  “No, I moved here as a teenager. That’s why these two knuckleheads call me Denver from Boston.”

  “It is kind of funny if you think about it.”

  Denver shrugged his broad shoulders. “They sure find it entertaining. But then simple things amuse them.”

  Parker had turned his bike around and was riding toward the ramp. I crossed my arms around myself to keep the butterflies in control. “My gosh, I’m a nervous wreck. Can’t even imagine what Parker’s feeling like.”

  “Never really see that guy nervous,” Denver quipped just as Parker hit the ramp.

  The bike flew up and as it lifted into the air, the front tire swung around. Denver’s posture straightened, and his shoulders tensed as he watched the motorcycle and rider spin a full three hundred and sixty degrees. As Parker and his machine headed back down to earth, the front tire was once again straight in front of him. The back tire hit first, and he wobbled for a split second as the front tire made contact with the dirt hill.

  Denver waved a fist and hopped off the wall. It was far more emotion than I’d ever seen from him.

  “Fucking stuck it like glue,” Cole called back from his bike.

  Even tucked in a helmet and goggles, Parker’s excitement was palpable as he rode back toward us. He stopped the bike and jammed one foot down to keep the motorcycle upright. He pointed a gloved finger at me. “Told you, baby, good luck charm.”

  “Maybe you should wear her around your neck at the show,” Cole suggested.

  “I like the way you think, bro,” Parker laughed. “I’m going again.” He took off. I caught a glimpse of what looked like worry in Denver’s face.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just, when he’s amped up like this, he tends to make mistakes. I was going to suggest he take a little ride around the yard first to release some of that adrenaline.”

  “Now you’re scaring me.”

  “Nah, don’t worry. He’s fine.”

  We waited as Parker circled around once. I tucked my hands in my sweatshirt pockets for warmth. “It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about Parker, how excited he gets about things. He doesn’t miss a second of living. I love that about him.”

  Denver crossed his arms and seemed to be thinking about what I said. “You know something, as annoying as Rodeo is, I guess that’s what I like about him too.”

  Parker twisted the throttle and raced toward the ramp. My stomach clenched, and I held my breath as his bike flew into the air. Again, the motorcycle spun around in a perfect circle and, even from my completely untrained eye, it seemed the bike was positioned to land perfectly upright on the other side. Back tire touched down and front tire dropped, but it was still at a slight angle. The tire turned in sharply and Parker slammed the handlebars just before being hurled over the front of the bike. He landed on his side and rolled a few times before stopping face down on the dirt. Cole laid down his bike, and Denver and I followed close at his heels as he raced over to Parker.

  I released the breath I’d been holding when I saw Parker push up to his knees. He reached up, yanked off his goggles and threw them angrily in the dirt. Cole crouched down in front of him.

  “Damn it,” Parker said through a gritted jaw of pain. He pressed his arm across his chest.

  “Ah shit,” Cole said, “did you break a rib?”

  “Just bruised.” He reached up and unbuckled his helmet, and with some help from Denver, he took it off.

  Denver placed the helmet under his arm. “You didn’t straighten the front wheel in time.”

  Parker shot him an annoyed look. “Really? Guess that’s why we call you fucking Einstein.”

  Cole stood up and offered Parker his hand. He groaned as he pushed to his feet. “I’m just sore. I didn’t break anything.”

  “How can you be sure?” I asked.

  “Because whenever he breaks something, he pukes.” Cole picked up the goggles and handed them to Parker.

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Don’t know why. I just do.”

  “Told you it has something to do with the shock to your system,” Denver added.

  “Yeah, yeah, Dr. Einstein.” The words were coming through Parker’s clamped teeth like water through a sieve. It was obvious he was in a great deal of pain.

  I took hold of his helmet. “What’s scary is knowing that you’ve broken enough things to actually know that you get sick each time. But now that you mention it, I do remember that time I was watching you break a colt and you came off and snapped your wrist.” I looked over at Cole and Denver whose attention I’d grabbed with my story. “It was ugly. He stood up, looked down at his tweaked arm, muttered a string of cuss words, stomped over to the railing on the round pen and threw up. Then he walked over to his hat, jammed it on his head and climbed back on to finish the ride.”

  “You’re a fucking madman,” Cole said.

  “You never leave the horse one point up,” Parker said. “Otherw
ise, that horse has you numbered and breaking him takes that much longer.”

  I walked alongside of Parker, who was walking slightly hunched over and as slow as a hundred year old man.

  Cole walked over and lifted Parker’s bike from the dirt. “You want to get back on the horse?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing it’s not the same with motorcycles as with horses,” Denver said. “We should probably let them know you aren’t going to make the show.”

  Parker’s face snapped toward him. “I’m fine. I’m just a little sore. I’ll be at the show.”

  “Rodeo, man, you can start fixing up that Corvette anytime.” Cole rolled Parker’s bike along. “Riding when you’re hurt isn’t worth the money.”

  “You all just worry about your own sorry asses, and I’ll worry about mine.” Understandably, the disappointment of the landing and the pain were making Parker grumpy.

  “Got some of those mega dose ibuprofens in the medicine cabinet,” Cole said as he rolled the bike up next to us. “And that hot, cold pad is in the cabinet beneath the sink. Better take the day off work tomorrow.”

  “I won’t need to.”

  “Bullshit,” Cole said. “Don’t need you shuffling around the job site like a zombie. You’ll just be in the way. One day off and that’s the boss’s order.”

  The second I got Parker to his room, I turned to him. His face was pale with pain. “You can’t do that show.”

  “I’ll be fine by then, and if I don’t ride in the show, then what? We won’t have the money to pay off that lowlife.”

  “We don’t need to have the money. I need to have it. Now I’ve dragged you into this, which is exactly what I was trying to avoid. You were planning to use the money to fix up your car.”