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reluctant smile made laugh wrinkles dig into Sam’s leathery cheeks. “You do what you have to, boy.” Jeff touched his hat in salute and walked jauntily to the ring, joining BJ at the fence.
    Sam looked after him and murmured, “Not sure you’re not as good as you think you are, kid.” BJ pulled his hat down lower over his eyes when Jeff walked up. “Maybe you were right.” Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
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    “I don’t think I caught that.” Jeff put his hand behind his ear and leaned closer to shout, “Can you repeat it?” BJ closed his eyes in pain. “When I woke up this morning, the sun was drilling a hole in my skull. I don’t need you adding to it. Shut the fuck up.”
    “How much did you have last night?”
    “The usual. I think maybe you were right about just heading out, but you didn’t say anything about drinking when you got there.”
    “You okay to ride, BJ?” Jeff thought he was looking a bit green.
    “I can ride even if I’m unconscious; it’s just gonna hurt more later when I stop.”
    “What bull did you draw?”
    “Horny Houdini. At least I got something going my way.”
    “Yeah, you could just as well throw a leg over a hamburger from Wendy’s,” Jeff said.
    “Yeah, he ain’t worth much. Low-point ride.”
    “I guess you got to decide, do you want to live or score high?”
    “I think I’ll settle for living, thank you. You got stuck with Twister. Sam give you the scoop about him?” Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
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    “Yeah.”
    “Break a leg.”
    “That’s show business, BJ. It’s not exactly comforting to hear that at a rodeo,” Jeff observed dryly.
    “What do you think this is if it isn’t show biz?” BJ
    laughed and then groaned in pain. “Listen, you ride that bull and show him who’s boss. If anyone can, it’s you, and I mean it.”
    “Will do.” Jeff tipped his hat, touched that BJ would even say that, before he sauntered toward the chute where his bull was penned, hearing the snorting and slamming from the irate animal.
    Clay waited until Jeff had disappeared within the maze that led to the chutes before he joined BJ at the fence.
    “You hear he drew Twister?”
    “Yep. Why? Think he can’t handle it?”
    “He can handle it okay,” Clay said shortly. He didn’t want to get into some touchy-feely conversation with BJ
    about his worries over Jeff’s ride. “He’s a daredevil.”
    “No! Really? When did you tumble to that ?” BJ laid on the sarcasm thick and rich.
    The gate burst open, and Twister leaped into the air, showing off that trademark move. BJ leaned over the fence Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
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    to watch, but Clay stood with his back to the fence, his elbows hooked on the rail, pretending he wasn’t interested.
    “He’s a good rider. I don’t think he knows how good. I hope he earns a really good score.” Clay paused for a moment, but he couldn’t keep from adding, “So I can beat it.”
    BJ rubbed his eyes. Maybe this hangover was fucking with his head more than he’d thought. “What is with you two? A couple years on the tour and it’s just the usual competitive crap between cowboys, and now all of a sudden this year it’s war?”
    “I guess we found out we just don’t mix; oil and water, you know,” Clay said stiffly.
    “Birds of a feather, more like,” BJ scoffed.
    “I’m going to beat his ass this year, no matter what.”
    “Well, you got your work cut out. He’s on fire out there.” BJ jerked his head toward the ring.
    Clay turned around to look. He’d been trying not to notice Jeff’s ride, but BJ’s comment and the sound of the crowd’s wild appreciation made it hard. The sight of Jeff on the back of the bull, his body all fluid and lithe, hips working, his spine curved one moment and snapping straight and tall the next with the twisting motion of the animal made him want to applaud and cheer along with BJ, who had stepped up on the bottom rung of the fence by now, Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
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    yelling and