“Pleased. I’m Hank.” The big man shook his hand, and he narrowly avoided making it a competition. “It’s good to see you on your feet again, Ryder.”
“Thank you. I’m tickled as all get out that I got out with all my brain cells.” Ryder offered him a tight smile. “Have a great event.”
That was a clear “go away”, if he’d ever heard one.
“I plan to. Enjoy watching.” Hank looked him up and down again before nodding to Ryder and walking away.
“You’ve got your hackles up,” he said softly as Hank stepped back into the crowd. “He was looking at me as if I might be competition.” He’d been off the market for a long while, but he understood jealousy when he saw it.
“He and I used to be close. We’re not now.” Ryder’s voice was tight, bordering on angry.
It was difficult to resist the urge to give Ryder a warm hug. Another part of him wanted to follow Hank and give the man ataste of his knuckles. “I understand it’s none of my business, but all the same, I am very sure that it’s his loss.”
“I’m a little bit your business, but thanks. I did the saying no, and I was right to do so, but it made things harsh—folks talk.”
Charles sighed. “He aired your private business. I’m sorry.”
“Yes. He did. He sucks. You, on the other hand, are a decent human being. Thank God.”
That made him smile. “Thank you. I do try. And for what it’s worth, I don’t mind letting people think I’m your private business now.” He winked at Ryder.
Ryder chuckled softly, cheeks gone pink. “Well, I think folks are making assumptions, and I don’t mind.”
They were definitely making assumptions. There had been certain moments today when parts of him wanted to make assumptions too.
He didn’t plan to assume anything. What people said about assumptions was typically correct.
And he wasn’t going to think that way.
He couldn’t.
Even if he found himself wanting to.
“Who’sthe guy standing on the fence?”
“That’s the gate, and he’s pulling Pistol’s rope.” This was surprisingly fun, telling Mister Charlie everything the man didn’t know about bull riding.
They had amazing seats—three rows up, in between Rope Canutt’s family and Skylar Paulson’s. Apparently they were having a vacation together.
“Like pulling it tight, you mean?” Charles was glued to the chutes, watching everything and so curious. Charles leaned closer. “No wonder those bulls seem so annoyed.”
“It’s not annoyance. It’s genetic. Seriously, it’s bred into them. If they were uncomfortable, they wouldn’t buck.”
“Oh, no. I was kidding.” Charles touched his knee for a very brief second. “I did some reading before this trip about how athletic these bulls are. Now, me? I’d be annoyed.”
“I—Yeah.” Folks didn’t do that. Not even gay ones. He knew there were some handcuffs and ankle…cuffs? But tight around the middle?
Nope.
The gate opened and Charles watched intently. He was just as disappointed as everyone else when the ride only lasted five seconds. “Bummer. That was quite a landing though. These guys can really take a beating.”
“Yes, sir.” It was a brutal sport, and getting hurt was inevitable. It was just a matter of how bad and when.
“Oh! That’s…uh. Mack? Right?” Charles pointed to the bullfighter. “He just gets right in that bull’s way. Wow.”
“Yes. He’s the team lead, and he’s fearless. He’s together with the sound guy. His best friend is the safety man. The guy on the horse. He’s a bit of an asshole, but he’s okay.” And a horndog and a half.
Times three.