Impossible (14 page)

Most of the arena was still dark, the cowboys and spectators alike cloaked in darkness, but my eyes had adjusted just enough to be able to make out the details. The only thing I couldn’t see was Coleman.

I knew he was out there, but I found myself desperately wishing I could see him. Desperately wishing I could watch him closely for every minute of this.

I wanted to know what the experience was like for him, directly. At present, I was experiencing it from my point of view, with only my imagination and an array of assumptions to fill in what it must be like for him.

I wanted to see his eyes as he listened to the National Anthem knowing what was coming in just a few short minutes, knowing that all of these people had come here to watch him put on a show. Knowing that I was here to watch him and worry about whether or not he would come out of it unscathed.

Interestingly enough, whatever he was feeling, I just wanted to live it with him.

The lights of the arena started to brighten as the singer’s voice hung on the word brave, and the crowd started to roar with approval. Subconsciously, I joined in, becoming one of the many spectators hooting and hollering with amazement.

My eyes scanned the arena quickly, looking for the bright aqua blue of Coleman’s chaps, knowing that would be the most efficient way to find him in a sea of similar-looking cowboys.

When I finally picked him out of the crowd, his eyes were on me, and it was clear he had been watching me for awhile. His face was engulfed in a cocky smile, and I felt the beginnings of irritation start to fray around my edges. He hadn’t earned the right to be cocky; he freaking put me here. Of course he knew where to look for me.

Just as I started to let myself get worked up, the sass building steadily in my veins, he threw me a wink.

I deflated.

Just like that, irritation gone. He did everything well, and by God, his winks were no exception. He winked with the skill and flirtiness of fifty men combined, leaving nothing but a pile of womanly goo behind.

Following the line of thirty or so riders in front of him, he made his way through the gate in the middle of the chutes and out of the arena. I kept my eyes on him and watched as he talked with a group of them that included Kyle, Chase, and Murray. From the smiles on their faces, it was clear that they were relaxed and joking and ready for just about anything.

Kody came walking up with some gear in his arms, what looked to be a helmet with a face mask, a bull rope, and a glove for his riding hand. He quickly tied the rope onto the metal fencing and ran his gloved hand roughly down the rope a few times.

I knew from watching and talking to CJ that he was both putting rosin on his rope and heating it, a couple of helpful tricks used by bull riders all around.

Taking my time and looking around the rest of the arena, I killed enough time so that when I moved my gaze back to their group, Kody was already climbing into a chute working to fasten his rope around his bull, and in turn, fasten himself to that very rope.

Still perched up high, I had a good view, and it was all I could do to calm my nerves as I watched Coleman climbing up the side of the chute to have a few words with Kody as he prepared to ride.

Somehow, I knew he was helping Kody, feeding him wisdom acquired from all of his bouts of success. It was probably a hard thing to do, giving a rough, bull riding cowboy advice without coming off as a condescending jerk, but I had no doubts that Coleman knew how to wade through the murkiness.

He gave Kody a quick clasp on his shoulder and then jumped down and moved away, headed for his own bull rope.

He didn’t look at me as he went through his routine, and I totally understood. I was probably just as much of a distraction to him now as he was to me when I was chasing.

And as luck would have it, we both had professions where were could end up dead if we weren’t on top of our game.

Obviously, this being the case, I was more than happy for him to ignore me.

My eyes jumped back to Kody at the sound of the chute opening, and I watched avidly as his black and white bull jumped, bucked, and twisted his way out of the gate and into the arena. The crowd was cheering and the announcer had been talking practically the whole time, but it had become background noise to me since I was concentrating on other things.

Far too quickly, I watched Kody come flying off of his bull, his body flipping and twisting in the air just before landing dangerously on his upper back and neck.

To me, it looked like a devastating fall, but their bodies were obviously more conditioned to that kind of bending than mine because he was up, on his feet, and running for safety before I even had a chance to blink.

The bull fighters successfully diverted the bull’s attention, funneling it through the gate in the center of the arena and getting back into position to be ready for the next crazy bull and rider combo.

Still new to all of this stuff, I didn’t really know how it worked, but Coleman had explained that they’d already done their qualifying rides the day before. It was a two day event where their scores got added together and there was something about getting awarded bonus points if you were in first place after the first round. Or something like that.

I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal if I didn’t have all the rules down pat. I wasn’t looking to be a bull riding expert, I was looking to know Coleman.

So I listened, I just didn’t sweat the details.

Looking back at the spot where I had last seen Coleman, I saw that he was gone, so my eyes quickly did a scan looking for him. It didn’t take long to find him, headed for the chutes, getting ready to climb on a bull of his own.

My heart jumped into my throat and one hand drifted up to it, like somehow I could prevent its escape. My other hand worked its way to my abdomen, doing nothing more than just resting there, but proving quite blatantly how nervous I was about Coleman’s ride.

He rode all the time, but being here and watching made me even more nervous.

Or maybe it just made me face it head on, unable to blank my mind and hide from the fear that was always present.

He climbed down onto the big brown bull, Troublemaker. He had told me his bull’s name after the draw, telling me he was a good one, nice and rank.

Great
.

Only these guys could be excited when they get a bull who jumps higher, bucks harder, and is just generally a meaner son of a bitch than the other bulls. “Nastier bulls mean higher scores,” Coleman had said.

Fantastic.

Flipping his chaps back on his thighs and out of the way, he went to work, getting his hand tied down just right, running his hand roughly along the rope a few times before tightening it around his hand just so. When his hand was how he wanted it, he grabbed the metal railing with his free hand and scooted his hips up toward his hand, working himself into his preferred seat.

If I were on the bull, I would want time to take a deep breath, get my bearings, and prepare myself. These guys were different. Before I was even sure he was settled, Coleman was nodding his cowboy hat clad head, and the gate to the chute was being swung open by the gate man.

The cheers of the crowd echoed in harmony with the blood thrumming through my ears, and time seemed to slow down.

Troublemaker bucked with a little something extra, throwing his body into a twisting fit each time, his head going the opposite way you would expect. Coleman’s legs were actively swinging and spurring in perfect timing, a sign that he was in control, and I could swear there was a smile on his face.

Moments passed, the sound of the bull’s hoofs landing seeming extraordinarily loud and in time with my pounding heart.

The harsh sound of the buzzer cut through my clouded hearing, and I felt a wave of relief rush through me.

Unfortunately, I let go of the tension too soon, momentarily forgetting that he still had to get off of the bull, which didn’t go quite as smoothly.

His body popped off, a move that was clearly part of his planned dismount. What wasn’t planned was that his hand didn’t come with him, the bull twisting and forcing him away from his hand, and his body was savagely yanked back to the still bucking bull.

Oh God!

The crowd gasped collectively, the worry and can’t-stop-watching-the-train-wreck mentality a heavy burden that hung in the air like a balloon waiting to be popped.

The bull fighters jumped in immediately, throwing their bodies on and around Troublemaker, desperate to help Coleman free his hand from the vise his bull rope had created.

For me, this was a nightmare come alive, watching they man I was in love with being flung around like a freaking rag doll and not knowing how much worse for the wear he was going to come out of it. Or if he was even going to come out of it at all.

Oh Jesus. I was going to hyperventilate. This was why I kept to myself. This was why someone like me shouldn’t freaking fall in love!

Seconds away from passing out, my torment finally ended, and Coleman came flying free of the bull, his feet hitting the ground at a dead run.

It just so happened that when he finally got free and ran it was in my direction. His head shot up immediately, even as he flexed his arm back and forth to try to get the pain out of it. When his eyes met mine, he mouthed, “I’m okay,” and gave me a wink before turning back to the crowd, removing his hat, and giving his best smile and wave.

The crowd went freaking crazy. He soaked in their reaction for several seconds and then finally turned to leave the arena as the announcer told us his score.

“It looks like Cade is okay, and he’s probably going to be feeling better pretty soon...Eighty nine and a quarter points, wow buddy...what a score!”

Immediately, I started climbing down from my perch so that I would be available to see him as soon as possible. I needed to hug him and hold him, and it was more practical to think I’d be able to do that from the ground. Coleman could do a lot of things but flying wasn’t one of them, and I wasn’t too keen on having him climb up to me so soon after watching his massive body being tossed around like it weighed nothing.

Shitdizzle, I sounded like a panicked, whiny baby, but I absolutely couldn’t help it. I had lost complete control of myself, and I had even started to shake a little from the surge of adrenaline receding.

Finally, I saw Coleman’s blue chaps breaking through the crowd of cowboys and heading my way. He was moving quickly and efficiently, but he still took the time to say a few words to everyone he passed that addressed him or clapped him on the back.

Clearly though,
he
was trying to get to
me
as quickly as possible. Unbelievably, after all the effort I put in to keep it from happening, he knew me better than anyone. And he knew that I would need to see him with my own eyes up close and personal even though he had taken the time to address me directly from the arena.

As he came up in front of me, all seventy four inches of him covered in sweaty, dirty, dusty perfection, I found myself unable to move, unable to reach for him.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he had no problem reaching for me, settling his hands on my hips like he always did and pulling me close enough so that when I looked up it was right into his face. Remarkably, even though he was a foot taller than me, we fit.

“I’m fine, Banty.”

“This time,” I countered.

He had no argument for that, and he didn’t try to pretend he did. “Can’t argue with that, Roni. But you don’t exactly bike a paper route either.”

My face softened. I knew it did because I could feel it, could feel the warmth spreading in my chest. I nodded my head, forced myself to take a deep breath, and gave him what he was looking for. “I know. I know that...rationally. It was just scary to watch, that’s all.”

He smiled a smile so big that it almost overwhelmed his handsome face, and at the same time, spoke soft words. “That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Roni. It means you care if something happens to me. Which really just means you care about me, period.”

Of course I cared about him. Wasn’t that incredibly obvious?

I was still here. That meant a lot more than he could possibly know.

Jesus, I cared about him too much.
Way
too much
.

Unable to express myself verbally, physically unable to get any words past the knot in my throat, I leaned forward, rose up on my toes, grabbed onto his biceps, and gently touched my lips to his. I let my lips linger for a couple of seconds, his soft lips warm against mine, before pulling back and looking directly into his eyes.

I wanted to kiss him longer, deeper, wetter, and sweeter, but I knew how we were once we got going and didn’t think making a scene amongst all of the cowboys, and oh yeah, the spectators, was the way to go.

Coleman was a smart man, though, and he could see the heat and emotion in my eyes. It only took him a split second before he grabbed my hand, turned, and started dragging me down a hallway that led into the bowels of the arena. For the most part, this was untouched at this time in the competition. Other than the medical room, no one really had any reason to come back here at this point, and it was clear he meant to take advantage of that fact.

He tested a couple of doors, but none of them opened, so he just kept walking, going deeper through the twists and turns of the hallways, stopping after several turns that landed us in a hallway shadowed in darkness.

My back was up against the wall, and Coleman was fully seated in my space, his hips pressed against mine before I could even blink.

Whisper soft, his hands skated up my sides, up my arms, around my neck, and into my hair, settling there as he pressed his lips to mine.

This time the kiss wasn’t brief, innocent, or closemouthed. It was deep and delicious, and his tongue explored my mouth like it was the best thing he had ever tasted. Like if he didn’t caress every nuance of it, I wouldn’t feel the power of his emotion sufficiently.

Like he loved me.

God, how could a thought be so fulfilling and downright terrifying at the same time?