I still do.
It’s one of the few things that no one can take away from me. I’m good at this. Hell, I might be the best.
I glance down at one of the rodeo cowboys surrounding me and give a quick nod, signaling for him to pull the gate open. And he does.
The bull shoots out. But it doesn’t turn hard or try to get rid of me in any overly dramatic way. It’s easy fun, and I smile as the bull bucks beneath me, mostly in a straight line. It’s just like the bulls of my childhood. It’s where I came from. And I enjoy the hell out of the moment.
Hand in the air, heels kicking back to see if I can make it buck just a little harder, the eight seconds come easily. When I jump from its back, I land on my feet in the center of the ring, and one of the clowns pulls the black bull away from me.
The crowd cheers, and people shout my name. I ignore all of them, because it’s Julia, standing at the outgate and grinning at me, that draws me out of the ring. I swear she bounces on her feet as I toss her a wink.
God, I can’t help it. I’m like a moth to a flame where she’s concerned. I make a beeline toward the exit—in her direction—but I’m intercepted.
By Evelyn and her family.
She squeals, jogging straight into the ring and wrapping me in a hug like we’re actually an item. Her parents stand by the fence line, watching placidly.
I wonder if they know she’s certifiable.
“Oh my god, you were amazing!” she shouts, buzzing with excitement.
I pull back, giving her a simple “thank you” while my eyes dart over her head, to where Julia stands.
She looks substantially more subdued than she did mere seconds ago. No smile. No bounce.
My brows drop in concern, and Evelyn must notice because she pulls me away. Her hands grip the sides of my head, and she tries to pull me down into a kiss.
I shoot back, pushing her away harder than is necessary. But I’m startled by her audacity. I just hopped off a bull, and this woman I barely know is trying to kiss me, right here, right now, in front of everyone.
Including Julia.
I’ve kissed her once already while looking at Julia. While wishing she was Julia. Something that will never happen again.
“What the hell?” she says, looking offended.
But I don’t care. I step back even farther.
“What’s wrong?”
I bark out a disbelieving laugh and throw caution to the wind. I blurt out what’s been on my mind for weeks. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that you have zero respect for my boundaries. What’s wrong is you’re all over me at every turn. Read the fucking room, Evelyn! You’re only here because—”
I’m on the verge of telling her that she’s only here because Richard wants her to be.
But like I thought him into existence, Richard storms into the sand ring, his dress shoes slipping as he struggles to gain purchase. I blink, startled by his presence. I was so in the zone with my ride that it’s as though I forgot about him and the cameras entirely. Riding bulls is natural for me. So is finding Julia in a crowd. But putting on a show for the cameras is as unnatural as it gets.
“Emmett,” he practically shrieks. “Get back out there and redo this take, right fucking now!”
I glare back at him, offering a simple, flat, “Over my dead body.”
Then I check beyond him, wanting to make sure that Julia hears this part… but she’s gone.
My stomach plummets. I feel fucking sick. I feel out of control and undone. My chest hurts. My head hurts. My stomach hurts. And all I can think about is her.
Where Julia is now and how upset she must be.
I spin on Richard. “New rule, Dick Wad. No physical contact unless both parties are into it. You’re going to stop telling these girls to put their hands in my pockets or kiss me or rub my back. It’s fucking weird. It’s fucking uncomfortable. I fucking hate it. So, stop. Game over.”
Richard steps in close, dropping his voice to a venomous hiss. “This game is only over when I say so. You signed a contract. This is the job, boy. Suck it up. You’ve got beautiful women vying for your attention. All desperate for your dick. And here you are, acting all virtuous and shit. Pull it together. Go cry somewhere else. I chose you for a reason. And it wasn’t so you could fall in love with the help and turn into a total fucking prude.”
My molars grind. I fucking hate when he calls Julia the help. It makes me want to flatten his stupid, orange-tanned face.
“Redo the take. Now.” He spits the word out hard enough that his saliva hits me in the face. Carl used to get spitting mad, too.
But I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not scared of Richard Wadsworth.
I am scared of losing Julia, though.
Which is why I look down my nose at him and wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, clearing the wetness from my skin.
And then glare back and spear him with a simple, unaffected “No.”
CHAPTER 32
Emmett
I DRIVE.
And I drive.
And I drive.
I take the back roads, the gloomy storm that’s rolled over the mountains matching my mood and only adding to my melancholy. I should be concerned about the show, but I can’t bring myself to be.
Not when my brain is full of Julia. And the sight of that smile vanishing from her face.
She left. I hurt her. And she left.
It doesn’t even matter that it was unintentional. Or that it was all Evelyn. She couldn’t stay to watch, and I’m sick with knowing I put her in that position.
And her phone going straight to voicemail has done nothing to help my nausea.
I drive until I end up at her building. Then I get out of my truck and stand in the pouring rain, staring up at the windows, wondering which unit might be hers.
Is she home? Is she still awake? Would she even want to see me?
My phone buzzes incessantly, and I finally pull it from my pocket. Messages from Richard fill the screen, many of them in all caps. They demand my return. They threaten adjusting the contract.
“Go fuck yourself, Dick Wad,” I mutter. But my voice comes out watery, more forlorn than angry. I suck in a few deep breaths as I pocket the phone again and turn away from Julia’s building. I can’t go see her like this. Sad, desperate, and confused.
So I walk. Rain pelts down in fat drops, soaking me to the bone. I walk.
And I walk.
And I walk.
And I think. Something I often avoid doing too much of, because heavy thinking typically uncovers heavy feelings for me.
I realize I should be concerned about the fall-out from fleeing the rodeo and blowing off filming, but that’s not where my anxiety lies. I can play that off as me having a diva moment. I have a solution for that.
What I don’t have a solution for is Julia. And all these… feelings.