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waving his hat, hangover forgotten for the moment.
    The horn blew, and Jeff let go just as the bull bucked up its back end, flipping him high into the air in a spectacular arc. He hit the ground rolling, came up onto his feet in one graceful movement, and took off for the fence. He jumped for it just in time with the bull snorting at his heels. Clay could see him grinning as he swung a leg over and straddled the fence, waving at the enthusiastic crowd and clasping both hands over his head in triumph.
    “On fire,” Clay repeated in a low voice. It was a good ride. He might just have to tell him so.

    JEFF was pissed. It was one thing if he wanted to ignore Clay, but to figure out that now Clay was ducking him just pissed him right the hell off. He’d see Clay in the distance and work his way through the crowds trying to catch up to him, but it was like Clay had some kind of radar scanning device on him. By the time Jeff got to where Clay had been standing, the man would be gone.
    He tried staking out the grub hall but never managed to spot Clay. The man had to eat, didn’t he? He had to drink coffee sometime!

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    It would have been a breach of competition etiquette to jump Clay before his ride, and Jeff wasn’t that desperate.
    However, he did take up a position front and center on the fence, flanked by Sam on one side and BJ on the other to witness Clay’s ride. Every cowboy always knew where Sam was, so Jeff knew that Clay had to be aware of his presence even if he refused to look over that way. And somehow, some way, he was going to force Clay to acknowledge that he was standing there, big as life.
    Jeff smirked a bit as he watched Clay’s ride. Not one of his best, and he hoped maybe this thing , whatever it was going on between them, had finally managed to shake Clay’s concentration. The bull Clay was mounted on wasn’t doing him any favors either, a bit sluggish but not so bad that the judges would grant a reride, most likely.
    Jeff stayed right on Sam’s heels as he went to talk to Clay after the ride, amused when Clay gave him a quick glance but then ignored him.
    “You want to ask for a reride?” Sam asked.
    “Yeah, if you think they’d give it to me,” Clay said, brushing the dust off his jeans.
    “You won’t know till you ask.” Sam nodded briefly and strode off to the judges’ box.
    “Seen you ride better,” Jeff said.

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    Clay took a deep breath. He couldn’t go on pretending Jeff wasn’t standing there, big as life, especially as his—
    “Thanks. Yeah, not one of my best. Saw you on Twister earlier.”
    “And?”
    “It was a good ride,” Clay said grudgingly.
    “It was a great ride, admit it!”
    “Don’t you ever get tired of blowing your own horn?”
    “Do you?”
    Clay bit his lip. He had a feeling they weren’t talking about bragging rights any more, and the memory of the few kisses they’d shared seemed to be seared into his mind and body. He felt hot and uneasy at the thought of it. “Not here!” he hissed.
    Jeff’s temper had cooled to a simmer, but this unwarranted implication that he was trying to start something turned up the flame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
    “Meet me at my trailer later. After supper.” After flinging this terse order at him, Clay turned on his heel and walked away to meet Sam.
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    decided. Clay needed a piece of his mind, and he aimed to give it to him.

    DARK came early in March, and Jeff was still eating his supper when he saw Clay get up and leave the grub hall.
    Clay looked over the assembled men to see where Jeff was sitting, but his face didn’t give away that he’d been searching for him.
    Probably wanted to be sure he wasn’t waiting to jump him outside, Jeff thought. He had no interest in kissing Clay at all, and he would make