Dead of Winter (Battle of the Bulls #2) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,38

change. You’ll be used to all this in no time.”

But as Raven stared out over the scene before her—Two Shots’ massive bull bucking in the arena like there was no tomorrow, and Quickdraw and the man she loved beating the ever-living stuffing out of each other just below—she seriously doubted what Cheyenne said.

There was no getting used to this.

Chapter Twelve

“I could get used to this,” Raven said, clinking her can against Cheyenne’s.

They’d both changed into clearance swimsuits they’d bought at a Walmart a couple towns back. Nothing was left in the cheese cracker package but crumbs.

“It’s not a bad life,” Cheyenne concurred.

Dead had just finished his last practice buck, the last of the three to take a turn in the arena. Quickdraw was sitting on a rickety wooden bench with a pulse machine hooked up to his right bicep, and the thing made his muscles jump every second in a rhythm. Two Shots was putting his clothes back on and Dead, well, Dead was as naked as a sled—oof, she was bad at rhyming.

He was hiding his southern parts with two cupped hands. He called up to her, “You wanna buck?”

Okay, she must’ve misheard him. “Haha, I thought you asked if I want to buck.”

“I did.”

“But she’s a cow,” Quickdraw enlightened him.

“No shit, Sherlock, I’m gonna call you Slowdraw now.”

Quickdraw jerked forward like he was going to attack Dead as he passed, but Dead didn’t flinch. Instead, he came to a stop under the camper and leaned his head back, gripping his hips.

“Dead, put some clothes on!” Cheyenne demanded.

“Nudity is natural,” Dead told her.

“I second that,” Quickdraw said, ripping the electrodes off his arm.

“I don’t second it,” Two Shots griped. “My lady doesn’t need to see your sausage and beans.”

“Did you really trim your balls but ignore the entire section in your contract about keeping your hair and beard trimmed?” Cheyenne asked, leaning over the edge of the camper.

“I trimmed my hair. You didn’t specify which hair. Contract abided by.”

“She meant your head hair, you dick!” Two Shots blurted out.

Raven lowered to her belly so she could safely look over the side. She kicked her legs in the air and smiled. “I like that you manscape.”

Puffing up like a proud turkey, Dead looked at the other boys and then flipped them off, one by one.

Raven was already in a fit of giggles by the time she saw their pissed-off faces.

“I was being serious.” Dead pulled his pair of jeans off the bed of his truck and came back to stand right under Raven. “Do you want to buck?”

“But…why would I?”

“To get a change in. To ease some of the tension from your animal. To give her a good workout. To maybe settle some of her intensity. There’s lots of reasons to buck. It’s good for you.”

“Really, he just wants to see your cow,” Quickdraw told her as he clenched his fist a few times, testing his arm.

“Admission, I kind of want to see it, too,” Cheyenne said.

“Oh, no, no, no. No one wants to see that. She’s…my animal… Well, she’s not in control like you boys’ animals.”

Dead gestured to the arena behind him. “This ranch is owned by a shifter. These panels are reinforced for bull shifters, and the chutes are bigger to fit us. It’s about as safe an environment as you can give her.”

He made good points, but her heart was already pounding against her sternum just thinking about doing something as embarrassing as changing in front of her new friends. She wanted them to keep liking her.

“Your cheeks are turning red,” Dead pointed out.

“Well, don’t look then,” she squeaked out, scuttling away from the edge. She sat on the camper roof and drew her knees in, staring at the arena. If she did this, they wouldn’t ever look at her the same. “I don’t change in front of people.”

“Why not?” Dead asked, his head popping over the edge of the camper at the ladder.

“You’re pushing me,” she murmured low.

“I’m not. You can say no, and it’ll be perfectly fine. But if we get ten miles down the road, and you’re still thinking about it—and I’m onto you, you’re an overthinker—I don’t want you to regret not taking the chance. Nobody here even has the capacity to judge you. Two Shots is as dumb as a barn, Quickdraw has probably killed a dozen people, and Cheyenne is boning the man who killed her late husband. What can they say about your cow? I’m the perfect specimen of a