Dead of Winter (Battle of the Bulls #2) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,58

events. If he can just hold on for eight seconds and get a score of 80 or better, he can take the lead for the entire circuit. The only thing standing in his way? That bull right there. Y’all lift your glasses. I think they’re about ready in the chute…”

The gateman pulled the rope attached to the gate, and the barrier swung open and released hell. That’s all she knew how to describe it. Dead studied his rider’s strengths and weaknesses before a buck, and was rotating perpendicular high jumps with harsh landings on his front end, then tight spins that thrust his back legs sideways with such force Roddy had trouble finding his balance. And just as he got used to spinning that direction, Dead jerked the other way and flipped Roddy right into the dirt beside him. The bullfighters had to work hard and fast to keep Dead from smashing the downed rider into the dirt, but Roddy scrambled and got to a platform in the middle of the arena.

He screamed a curse that could be heard through the boos and cheers of the arena and tossed his helmet to the ground. One of the pickup men released Dead from the constraint of the flank strap, and he quit bucking.

Chills rippled up her forearms as Dead trotted around the arena, searching…searching…what was he searching for? Deep down, she knew.

Raven leaned over the railing and took her hat off, waved it. He turned his head and trotted right for her. And when he reached her, she murmured the words she’d first spoken to him, “It’s okay.” She let a smile take her lips. “Now, go do it again.”

Dead blew out an explosive breath and ran for the open gate between the chutes.

A pretty cowgirl with a tray of beers passed them out. “I was told specifically by Dead to make sure y’all aren’t thirsty tonight.”

“Want to sit with us?” Raven asked.

She laughed as she took their empty plastic cups. “I would love to, but I’m serving all the VIP boxes tonight. We got some bigwigs here watching.” She gestured over to a trio of men in clean white cowboy hats, dress shirts and suits, and bolo ties. They were all looking right at Raven so she waved.

They waved right back and gave her nods of respect. One of them gave her a thumbs up and called out, “You had one helluva ride.”

Wow.

“You’re famous,” Annabelle murmured. “Everyone here knows who you are, even when you’re in your human skin. And the announcers keep talking about you.”

“And look,” Mom said, pointing up at the big screen. “They keep replaying your ride between the other bulls bucking.”

A black and gray bull exploded out of the chute, and it was exciting to watch, but this bull didn’t have as much power in its bucks, and the rider held on for the full eight seconds.

“I never ever would’ve seen you ending up here,” Dad said from behind her.

“At a rodeo? Wearing cowgirl boots and a cowgirl hat?” she joked.

But Dad looked serious, and his gray brows lowered over his glasses. “No, I never imagined I would see the day when you were this happy. And this at ease with yourself. My shy girl. You just went out there and blew me away.”

“Blew all of us away,” Annabelle agreed.

“Blew this whole arena away,” Liam added.

Raven’s cheeks were on fire, and she ducked her gaze. Didn’t matter how she’d bucked or how confident she was in herself; she would always be shy. It was just a part of who she was. “Aw, I was just stepping in to help out.”

“I think that boy is special,” Mom murmured. When Raven looked up, her eyes were rimmed with tears. “I always wanted you to find a good match.” She pointed to the chutes where Dead was loaded up and causing havoc, slamming his hoof against the back of it. “That’s a good match.”

And as Raven stood up to watch him buck, anticipating what he would do right along with the rest of the crowd, she thought her mom was right. Who could’ve matched her animal? Hagan’s Lace, as she was now easily calling the beast in her head. Who could’ve looked at her struggle between woman and beast and understood like Dead? And supported her like Dead? And cared about her perhaps more because the animal existed, not less?

Only Dead.

Before she’d met him, she’d accepted that she would never be quite comfortable in her own skin. It had