Extreme Bull

breathing, Clay fell asleep.

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    CLAY woke up to find Jeff staring at him with a forbidding expression on his face.
    “You wanna fight now and get it over with?”
    “What? Why? What are you talking about?”
    “Every time we do this you blow a gasket next morning and stomp out like a girl who got told she was coyote ugly enough to chew your arm off. I’m not going to put up with it.”
    “Uh, no, I wasn’t planning to this morning.”
    “All right then. Let’s go get some breakfast. We can get to Dallas today, and then we got time to work out and get some riding in.”
    Clay would have liked to snuggle a bit, maybe even kiss, but Jeff rolled off the bed promptly and pulled on his clothes.
    “Shake a leg. I don’t got all day.” Jeff smirked and opened the door, letting in a blast of cold air that made Clay yelp before he jumped down and slammed the door shut.
    Clay could hear Jeff’s engine rev.
    Something was different, like Jeff was determined to act like just two friends looking for a little relief. Clay got dressed in a hurry, remembering that he’d asked for that, in a way.
    He just hadn’t considered the down side very carefully.

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    COMING back to his home state was always a thrill, but Clay was more concerned with not losing sight of Jeff. In the end, he did anyway; they got caught in the morning traffic, and he was too late to see where Jeff had parked at the grounds of the Dallas Center.
    He eventually found Jeff’s trailer but had to park a couple of rows away. All he could think about was how obvious it was going to be to try slipping into Jeff’s trailer in the crowded lot, and he berated himself, because he should have been thinking about the ride instead.
    The cold, damp air smacked him in the face when he got out of his rig, and he pulled down his hat, grateful that the center could accommodate the event inside. His dad had told him about how only fifteen years ago, cowboys had to ride in any kind of weather unless the judges were out in the open, when they would cancel for their own comfort. At least his dad would be too busy on the ranch to make the drive to see him ride, but he’d be watching on the television, like every weekend, which made it all the more important that he keep away from Jeff inside the arena when the cameras were on.
    Hoping to catch up with Jeff inside, Clay headed for the registration tables. He was distracted while the girl inside the glass booth found his paperwork and handed him his badge and parking voucher, twisting around to look for any sight of Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
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    Jeff. He looped the ribbon of his badge over his head and stuffed the parking permit into his pocket.
    “Hey cowboy.”
    Someone clapped him on the back and laughed when he staggered.
    “Hey yourself.” Clay stood there with a wide grin on his face, so glad to see Jeff again that he didn’t know what to do with himself. He dug his hands into his pockets.
    “Doug Morgan is here. He’s running some bulls in the draw. I’m going to see if I can meet him.”
    “What’re you going to do if you do?” Clay asked, falling into step beside him.
    “Ask for his autograph and any advice that’ll help me trounce you in the ring,” Jeff said.
    “Sounds like a plan, except I’ll be standing right next to you hearing it.”
    Jeff looked happy at that. “Oh well, guess I’ll have rely on my superior riding skills in that case.”
    “In your dreams, slick.” Clay nudged Jeff and received a playful elbow in the ribs in return before recollecting that they were in full view of anyone who wanted to take notice.
    “There he is, and Jamie Denson.” Jeff headed right for them, an avid smile on his face.

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    Clay hung back but stared at the couple almost as if they were animals in the zoo and he could learn their secrets just by observing them. Neither of them looked queer. They looked just like any of the other cowboys walking by, no girly-colored shirts, scarves, or jewelry, until he caught the gleam of a silver ring on the middle finger of Jamie’s right hand. He checked Doug’s hand; there was a matching ring.
    Aside from that and the fact that they stood just a hair closer to each other than he would be comfortable with, there was no sign that they were… together .
    Just thinking that made visions of naked masculine bodies writhing together in a passionate tumble of arms and legs and…