Later that night, lying on the bed with him in the Willow Tree Inn, I understood how much space there actually was between a bull rider and a neurosurgeon.
He lived in San Francisco. I had no home. He was worth hundreds of thousands, even millions. I had forty-two dollars to my name until I got paid my wages that Friday. Then I would have three hundred and forty-two dollars, enough to get to Kansas by the first week of August for the rodeo in Dodge City.
“That’s what you do? You’re a bull rider?”
“Yessir.” I chuckled, smoothing a hand gently over his hip, drawing him closer.
“So you go all over the country, then.”
“I do,” I answered, letting him push my shoulder down and pin me to the bed before he bent forward.
He stopped, his lips hovering over mine.
“Don’t do that,” I told him, smiling up at him, reaching a hand around the nape of his neck. “Don’t worry about how you look or how you sound or feel bad for wantin’ something—just fuckin’ take it.”
His lips melted over mine, and the kiss was tender and soft before I opened for him and his tongue swept inside my mouth. The hoarse moan made me smile as I rolled him over on his back, wanting to drown myself in him for as long as he’d let me.
“Come see me,” he gasped, breaking the kiss, hands on my face, thumbs sliding over my eyebrows as he stared up at me. “Take my address and cell number, and if you’re ever near California, like in Nevada or New Mexico or—”
“That ain’t close,” I smiled at him.
“It is to me, Weber.”
I squinted down at him. “You don’t have to do nothin’ for—”
“Please.” He huffed out a breath, his legs lifting, wrapping around my thighs. “Web.”
Why would I argue? “I would like that.”
The shivering when I bent and took possession of his mouth made my heart race. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life, and to have him want to spend any time with me at all was a gift.
“WEB?”
“Sorry.” I grinned sheepishly, brought back sharply to the present, embarrassed even though he couldn’t see me on the other end of the phone line. “And I’m sorry you’ve got to drive all the way out to Oakland to fetch me. I fell asleep and missed the stop that would have put me down on Mission Street where you—”
“I don’t care. Just don’t leave. Stay.”
“Like a dog,” I teased him.
“Yes, just like that.”
“Okay.”
He exhaled a deep breath. “Okay.”
“I should walk around and see if there’s somewhere open to eat.”
“No. I have stuff at my house. You can take a shower, and I’ll make you something to eat when we get home.”
Just to sit in his kitchen and watch him cook, be clean and warm and dry, was a blessing. Forty had been a revelation to me. I was surprised I lived to see it, and there was the realization that I was not going to be a rodeo star. Never had I broken into the real money. I didn’t have a sponsor, and the chances of it happening diminished with every passing year. At the point I was at now, I needed to find work on a ranch and hope that after I proved myself I could stay on permanently.
I was on my way to a winter job in Alaska that Aidan Shelton, a friend of mine from the rodeo circuit, set up for me. Apparently, his brother owned a fishing lodge just a forty-five minute seaplane ride out of Anchorage, and he was in need of a handyman for three months. Aidan and I had crossed paths in Louisville at the North American Championship, and after I got hurt in the qualifier, he approached me with the offer. It had been really decent of him, as had been the meal he bought me later that evening. He even invited me to stay the night with him, and since there was no money coming, I had appreciated that as well. When I came out of the shower and he was bare-assed in the middle of the second twin bed and asked me what I was waiting on, that too had been a blessing. It was lonely on the road and far too terrifying sometimes to take a chance on a stranger.
“Hey.”
“Sorry.” I sighed. “I reckon I checked out there for a minute. I got to thinkin’ how nice it’ll be to sit a spell in your kitchen and just talk to you.”
“Where are you going next?”
“To Alaska,” I told him. “A friend of mine has a job for me.”
“You’re not going to a rodeo?”
I scoffed. “No sir. All the rodeos been held already this year, even the big one in Las— Wait, this here is December, ain’t it?”
“Yes. Don’t you know? What did you do for Thanksgiving?”
“I don’t remember.”
He made a hurt sound, and I felt like crap. “Aww, Doc, I don’t mean to tug at your heartstrings none. You know that ain’t me.”
“I know.” He cleared his throat. “Finish about the rodeo.”
“Well, the last big rodeo of the season was in Las Vegas, but I’m too tore up to have even given it a go. I didn’t have the entrance fees or anything else even if I wanted to. My gear was all beat to shit so… no more rodeos for me.”
He cleared his throat. “You’re all done with bull riding?”
“Yep. Can’t afford it.
