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sideways glance when Cooper strolled back to the living room doorway and hovered there.
    “Yeah.” He didn’t sit. He moved to the window, wondering when the girls would arrive.
    “Thank God for that.” The relief was clear in Glen’s tone.
    Cooper couldn’t agree with him more. It seemed only strapping his hand to a ton of bucking bull in front of a roaring crowd would calm the restlessness. Even sinking into a woman wouldn’t help for long.
    God help them all when the time came for him to retire. On that depressing thought, he heard the crunching of tires as a car pulled into the driveway. One glance out the window confirmed it.
    He donned a smile. “Girls are here.”
    Glen planted his booted feet on the floor and stood. “Well, thank God for that too.”

Chapter Three
    Cooper ignored that he felt Hannah’s gaze on him, watching every move he made behind the chutes as he helped her kid get ready to ride. He reminded himself she was there for Skeeter. She was looking this way, her stare pinned to the action on top of the chute because she was watching her son, not him as he tried to help the kid.
    She was scared. He could see that clearly as she held the top rail of the fence with a white-knuckled grip. He wanted to go to her. Tell her the kid would be fine. That Skeeter was ready for this. He wanted to be with her during the ride too. Put his arm around her and calm the nerves he knew he’d feel making her body tremble.
    The thought of Hannah shaking beneath his hands had him starting to get hard. Christ, he was a sick man.
    Cooper forced his attention back where it needed to be—on Skeeter. He might not actually get paid for their lessons, but he was still the kid’s teacher, and the boy needed his guidance now.
    Riding one of the bulls in the practice ring set up at the ranch was one thing. Climbing into the chute for his first public competition was a whole other level of nerve-wracking. Cooper knew the adrenaline would be pumping through the kid like an illicit drug. A veteran rider could use the hormone flooding his bloodstream right before a ride to help him focus. In a newbie like Skeeter, that surge could just as easily lead to poor decisions and stupid mistakes.
    “You ready, kid?” Cooper glanced down at his protégé, inspecting him to see for himself that the boy’s equipment was on properly.
    His helmet already strapped beneath his chin, Skeeter nodded.
    “Spurs on, good and tight. Chap straps buckled. Safety vest zipped. Glove on and taped.” Working from the feet up, Cooper ran through the pre-ride checklist aloud for the kid’s benefit. He reached Skeeter’s head in his list and asked, “Mouthguard in?”
    “Yes, sir.” The response was mumbled and barely audible, proving Skeeter was indeed speaking through the piece of plastic.
    Cooper had already supervised Skeeter cleaning and rosining his bull rope when they’d arrived, so he knew that was good to go. The stock handler was looping the rope beneath the bull in the chute now.
    Ready or not, it was time. But the kid was ready. Cooper felt it with certainty. Not all eleven-year-olds could handle strapping themselves to the back of a bucking bull in front of a crowd. Skeeter was not most kids. He was a natural, though Cooper tried not to tell him that too often. Gifted with God-given talent or not, rising to be the best in this business took hard work and dedication.
    That was something Cooper feared he’d begun to forget lately. At the very least, he’d let it slip a bit. There was never a time to be complacent. To rest on the laurels of past successes.
    The problem was it was easy to do when time and time again he’d gotten away with it. On too many occasions, he’d spent the night drunk in some stranger’s bed and then had woken up hurting and still gone on to win the event.
    Winning was as addictive as the adrenaline rush of riding. Both acted upon him like a drug. Continuing to win, even after doing what he knew was bad for