Two Shots Down (Battle of the Bulls Book 1) Read online

  I get nervous. He took a drink of his beer, finger hovering over the send button. Then…send.

  Nervous about events?

  Yeah. I have a process. The night before I travel to an event, I can’t eat much. I drink beer to calm down. Send.

  I used to do that before events for barrel racing. What else do you do for your process?

  No drinking the day of except for the two shots of whiskey before I buck. When I get to the arena, I find a quiet place and listen to music and play out the buck in my head. I research the rider, know their weaknesses, so I come up with a game plan and replay it over and over and over. I warm up in the chutes before the crowd shows to loosen my muscles, especially if I’m sore from the last buck. I stay away from the riders. Try not to fight beforehand. Save energy. Eat good by myself somewhere when the crowds are filling the seats. My blood starts boiling as I listen to the rodeo noises getting louder and louder. I get filled with hate. Send.

  You think about your dad any?

  Smart girl. She’d paid attention to the chip on his shoulder.

  Every time I buck. It starts the rage. Send.

  Montana.

  What? Send.

  I live in Montana too. I live three hours away from you.

  He finished off his beer and rested his elbows on his bent knees. I’m missing the whole sunset staring at my phone.

  I’m missing the same one.

  His smile felt so good, but he was breaking his rules. Sleep good tonight. Big day tomorrow.

  Bigger day for you. Night, Two Shots.

  I’m kinda ready to see you tomorrow. Delete delete delete. The pink is pretty on your nails. Delete delete delete. Night. Send.

  Chapter Nine

  Landed safe. Already on my way. Be there in a few.

  Cheyenne blew out a long breath of relief and read the text twice more. Two Shots had let her know he had landed and now she was so excited and nervous to see him. Soon. So soon.

  “And then that heifer told me I have to trim my beard shorter,” Dead tattled to the interviewer, who was standing next to him in the arena, right in front of the chute he would be bucking out of tomorrow.

  She typed out, Dead has been crap-talking me his entire interview and Quickdraw didn’t even bother to show up for his interviews. I’d say week one is going well. Send.

  Want me to kill them?

  She laughed, but it fell back into her lungs when she realized she didn’t actually know if he was joking or not.

  “Like…look at her. She’s supposed to be managing me and she’s over there on her phone with her boyfriend,” Dead said, gesturing to her.

  And there was the blush again, spreading fire straight up her neck and into her cheeks. “W-what? I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Rumor patrol says you do.”

  “Dead, shut up.”

  “See how she talks to me? I never saw the rider’s agents talking to them like that.”

  The interviewer was a pro on this circuit named Rhonda and was practically beaming at the juicy goods Dead was giving her. Dead was grinning like a buffoon. She thought. His beard was even thicker since last week. Maybe he really was taking those hair growth vitamins.

  “All right folks, the talk of the town revolves around this one right here,” Rhonda said into the camera as she moved toward Cheyenne.

  “No, no, no,” Cheyenne said, holding her hand out as she backed straight into an open chute. “I’m not doing interviews. This is about the bulls.”

  “I think she should do one,” Dead said, pouring a bag of colorful candies into his palm. Where had he even gotten those? His wranglers were too tight to hide a big bag of candy like that. Freaking candy magician.

  “You’re supposed to eat well today,” she pointed out.

  Rhonda had her backed into a corner along with her camera man. Cheyenne looked up to see how easily she could climb the chute walls in the stupidly fancy boots she’d decided to wear today to look cute for a bull shifter who was definitely not her boyfriend!

  Dead appeared like an apparition, yanked her hand up, and poured Skittles into her palm. And there she stood, probably looking like a deer in headlights while holding a handful of rainbow sugar nuggets.

  “I’ve been dying to ask what is going on with Two Shots Down. I’ve heard that you came out of retirement in order to manage him, but why manage the bull who killed your husband if there aren’t feelings involved there?”

  “It’s business,” she said, eyeballing the space between Rhonda’s camera man and the open gate. Three more reporters were standing nearby, waiting for their interviews with Dead and Two Shots Down. And her, apparently. Grrrr. “I’m representing all three of the top bulls because I thought they deserved some representation. People don’t realize how hard it is to get to each event, plan all the travel, plan food, find help for their homes while they’re away. These are elite athletes who have been essentially moving through this industry alone with no help, while the riders aren’t expected to manage all that on their own. They are given relief. That’s my job. Nothing more, nothing less. I’m just trying to simplify the lives of these men and take some of the work from them so they can focus on training and bucking.”

  Movement caught her eye, and she stretched her neck to look around Rhonda just in time to see a grinning Dead of Winter disappearing into the bull pens. Sonofabitch, he’d done this on purpose to escape his interviews.

  “Have you had a chance to spend time with the bulls you manage outside of events?”

  “A little when we had our initial meetings about the contracts, but not during the week. We all live separate lives in different places.”

  “You and Two Shots Down only live a few hours away from each other. Do you visit his ranch?”

  “Okay, this interview is over.”

  “What do you think about him dating Noni? Two Shots is known as a player but—”

  “He’s not dating anyone, and if he was, that would be no one’s business. Not even mine. He deserves privacy on his personal life. He’s here to buck. Ask me anything about bucking or what these boys will be aiming for in the future, but love lives are off limits.”

  “Here we have footage of him taking her by the hand into a hotel where you were also allegedly staying. Did you see her that night? Did you spend time with them?”

  Anger flared in her chest. “What are you asking? If we had a threesome? Is that really a question anyone cares anything about?”

  “Yes,” Rhonda and her cameraman both said in unison.

  “No, I’ve never had a threesome. I haven’t been with anyone since my husband passed. There. Now you can stomp out the rumors. My legs have been closed like a beartrap because I wasn’t ready to lose my heart again. So, no, I didn’t spend time with Noni that night. The boys I represent are free to have a life outside of this arena. Excuse me.” She pushed past Rhonda and right out of the chute she’d been backed into.

  “Does it sting to lose Two Shots to the barrel racer that came right up behind you and took your place in the circuit?”

  She could hear Two Shots’ voice in her head. You hold their gaze, you grit your teeth, and you stay in the moment. You’re good, Cheyenne. She rounded on the reporter. “Here is how these interviews will go from here on. You will ask questions pertaining to the reason we are all here, which is bull shifter riding, or you will not get interviews.”

  Rhonda’s eyes flashed with challenge. “The top riders and bulls are required to do interviews—”

  “You think I give a shit about those rules, Rhonda?” Her voice echoed through the arena. “I don’t, and I can’t express this enough—I don’t give a single shit about your rumor mill. You want gossip? Okay. Make it all up. Fill in the blanks. I’m sleeping with all the bulls. Go spread it around. It doesn’t make any of it true. I’m interested in truth. I’m interested in this circuit and the work I can do to get the bulls the recognition they’ve worked their asses off to receive. This isn’t about me, or my love li
fe, or Two Shots’ love life. It’s about how hard those boys are gonna go tomorrow night to get those riders off their backs. I am proud to manage them. I got the three baddest bulls in the world prepping for the first Battle of the Bulls event tomorrow, and that’s where we are keeping our heads. Not on gossip. The interviews are over for today.” She gave Rhonda one last glare before she turned on her heeled boot and walked for the gate.

  “We will be happy to give interviews if you can treat us like you treat the humans,” she told the interviewers waiting off to the side with their cameramen. “I’ve never in my life heard an interviewer ask one of the riders about their love lives.”

  “We used to ask Tarik about you,” one of the old-timers pointed out.

  “Yeah,” she snapped, her voice shaking. “What good did those interviews do me? Huh? Now every time anything comes up about me, those interviews are played. I cry, I remember, and I hurt. It’s all over the TV every time I’m mentioned. Any time Tarik is mentioned. Can’t you understand that I want to be okay?”

  The small crowd finally lowered their gazes. Good. Ross, that old-timer, was still fighting for the story, though. Softly, he said, “Cheyenne, we all respect what you’ve been through, but this is our job. The circuit is taking off, catching fire, and we have a good lookin’ bull shifter with a bad attitude who killed your husband, and we got you, returning after falling off the face of the planet to work with him, and outside of these arenas? That gritty personal story is what people want to see.”

  “She already said her piece,” Two Shots Down rumbled.

  Cheyenne gasped and startled. Good grief, where had he come from? The crowd in front of her jumped, too.

  He was up behind the chutes, leaning on the metal railing, his white cowboy hat pulled down low over dark brown eyes. He had a presence about him that weighed heavy on the air. She could feel it in her chest, as if something massive was sitting on her. It was hard to draw a single breath.

  He. Looked. Pissed.

  “My turn.” He jumped over the chute, clearing it easily, and his boots hit the arena dirt with barely any impact. Too graceful and too predatory to be human, he strode for them and stood beside Cheyenne, towering over her. “Ask me whatever questions you want,” he dared them, splaying his legs and clasping his hands in front of him. He lifted his chin and looked down his nose at them. “Anything. Go on.”

  He was met with dead silence.

  “You just called this interview to waste my time then?” he asked. “I just got off a plane. I hate flying. I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable for any bull shifter to fly. Can you imagine it? Can you use your little imaginations for it? Can you envision how it would feel to control a monster inside of you while you sit crammed in a little sardine-can plane, crowded by a bunch of humans? Only you can hear better, smell better, and sense everything happening around you from the tiniest cough to the loudest conversation. And all you want to do is get to the arena so you can make sure your team is good. But then you have to hear interviewers riling up your agent with questions that are none of your goddamn business.” He gestured to Cheyenne. “This is my team. That?” He gestured to Quickdraw and Dead who had appeared like ghosts near the gate, leaning on it like they’d been there the whole time. “Those are my team in a way. We are trying to do something no other bull shifters have had the chance to try, so no. We won’t let the focus shift to our personal lives if we can help it. We’re doing something bigger for the circuit. We’re three competitors trying to support each other.” He jammed his finger at Quickdraw and Dead. “Look at those idiots. That’s the story. I hate them.”

  “We hate him, too,” Quickdraw murmured, his eyes dark just like Two Shots’, just like Dead’s.

  “But the circuit organizers wanted to create this circus, so we’re playing nice. It will be on our own terms, though.” He turned on Rhonda. “What she said stands. You won’t get one more fuckin’ interview if you can’t act like adults. Go home, think about how to do your jobs better, come back here early tomorrow morning. We will do interviews at eight in the morning. Or not. Up to you.” He brushed his finger against Cheyenne’s lower back and murmured, “Come on.”

  “See you all in the morning,” she told them quietly as she headed for Dead and Quickdraw. “The bulls are training today and they need to eat before we hit the chutes.”

  “You called us a team,” Dead muttered low as they all walked out together.

  Two Shots pushed open a gate that would get them to an exit and waited for them all to pass through. “I also said I hated you, and I meant that part more.”

  When Cheyenne turned to look over her shoulder, Two Shots was paused in the gateway, glaring at the interviewers.

  “Don’t change right now,” Quickdraw said. “That’s what they want.”

  Two Shots clenched his jaw and spat in the arena dirt, then turned slow and made his way toward Cheyenne. “You good?”

  Uh, she was super turned on and riled up and her adrenaline was rushing through her veins, making her jumpy, but yeah. “I’m good. Thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked, his frown on the exit door they were approaching.

  “For having my back.” She was still holding a handful of Dead’s candy, and she didn’t know why she did it, but she offered them to him.

  The fury faded slightly from his eyes, and he took a few Skittles from her. “Your rules said no eating bad on event weekends.”

  “Technically, it’s only Thursday and not yet the weekend.”

  “Sure, he gets a free pass,” Dead groused, jamming the exit door open for them.

  “Well, first interviews went just as expected,” she said.

  Dead chuckled. So did Two Shots. Even Quickdraw snorted.

  “I have a business card for food,” she announced. “Let’s go eat, regroup, and come back and kill this workout.”

  “Can we kick all those assholes out of the arena while we train?” Quickdraw asked so low she almost missed it. “Don’t like the cameras.”

  Cheyenne nodded. She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but she would figure something out. The boys deserved the effort.

  And as Dead and Quickdraw led the way to her Expedition, Two Shots did something that stunned her. He leaned over and pulled her against him, just a quick hug. Then he slipped his hand around hers, squeezed it, and released her.

  And just like that, the butterflies found her stomach again.

  Just like that, she melted into a man.

  Just like that, she felt safe.

  Just like that, her heart slowed, and the tension in her shoulders disappeared.

  Magic boy.

  Just like that, everything was okay.

  Chapter Ten

  “Where the hell are we?” Dead murmured, hanging his head out the window to gawk at the huge wooden sign over the gravel road.

  “I didn’t even know they had bull chutes,” Two Shots Down said, a smile in his voice. Oh, he knew exactly where they were. She could tell.

  “They sure do,” she murmured, checking the dust cloud behind them. Her Expedition was going to be filthy after this, but that was just fine with her.

  At the big house, she pulled off onto a dirt road to the left and followed it back through the trees to a clearing where bull pens had been built years before these brothers had bought this ranch.

  She pulled to a stop and got out, and the boys followed.

  Dead hooked his hands on his hips. “Huh. You got rid of the cameras for training.”

  “Yep.” She pulled a cooler out of the back seat and opened it, handed Dead a cold energy drink.

  “What the hell?” he crowed, taking it from her. “How did you know this is my favorite?”

  “You drink one before every buck. Figured you did it before training, too.”

  He whooped and flipped off Two Shots Down as he sauntered past him, chugging his energy drink. He threw down the empty that bounced across the ground and made a hollow clang against the metal fenci
ng. “Shotgun!” he yelled loud enough that his voice echoed through the clearing.

  “You call shotgun when you’re wanting the front seat, not when you want to go first,” Two Shots called after him.

  “Halfsies!” he called, scaling the chute gate instead of just opening it.

  “Halfsies doesn’t make sense either,” Cheyenne murmured. “Is he going to change into his bull inside the chute?”

  “I like to change in the chute,” he announced, hopping down inside of it.

  “How did that dipshit manage number two bull shifter in the world?” Quickdraw mumbled.

  “How did he manage to even make it out of the womb,” Cheyenne whispered.

  “I was breech,” Dead called. “The doctors had to pull me out. My momma’s vagina is so big—”

  “Dude!” Two Shots yelled. “You’re supposed to make your-momma jokes about other peoples’ moms! Not your own!”

  Dead fell to his hands and knees in the chute and grunted in pain. Cheyenne had never seen a bull change before. Even though she couldn’t see very well through the metal slats of the gate, she was both horrified and awed at his changing shape.

  “It’s best not to watch,” Two Shots murmured, brushing his finger against her hip.

  “Why?” she asked on a breath.

  “Some of us prefer privacy,” he answered.

  “Dead don’t prefer it,” Quickdraw said, glaring at the chute gate with his arms crossed over his chest. “He likes people watching. He don’t give a single shit if he has an audience, never did, and you know that. Why don’t you tell her the real reason you don’t want her watching a man turn into a bull?”

  “Careful,” Two Shots warned him. “We ain’t friends.”

  “You can tell her, or I will. Your choice.”

  A soft rumble rattled from Two Shots’ chest as he kept his eyes trained on Dead, who was now fully changed into his gritty black and white bull and was ramming the chute.

  “Fine, I’ll explain,” Quickdraw said.