The Longest Ride

eye candy. The bull rider who’d won it all.

“You doing okay, Luke?” one of the circle asked. “Need a hand?”

The blue-eyed cowboy shook his head. “I got it for now. But if he don’t stop wiggling, his nose is gonna get broke whether he likes it or not.”

She looked at him. “You’re Luke?”

He nodded. “You?”

“Sophia.”

He tipped his hat. “Nice to meet you, Sophia.” Grinning, he glanced down at Brian again.

“You gonna leave Sophia alone if I let you up?”

Defeated, Brian stopped moving. Slowly but surely, the pressure eased off his neck and Brian cautiously turned his head. “Get your boot off my neck!” he grunted, his expression simultaneously surly and fearful.

Sophia shifted from one foot to the other. “You should probably let him up,” she said.

After a beat, Luke lifted his boot and stepped back. In that instant, Brian leapt to his feet, his body tense. His nose and cheek were scraped, and he had dirt in his teeth. As the circle of other riders tightened, Brian turned from one bull rider to the next, his head swiveling back and forth.

Though drunk, Brian wasn’t stupid, and after glaring at Sophia, he took a step backward. The five cowboys stayed put, appearing not to care one way or the other, but Sophia sensed it was only an illusion. They were prepared for whatever Brian might do, but Brian again took another step backward before pointing at Luke.

“You and I aren’t finished yet,” he spat. “You understand that?”

He let the words hang before focusing on Sophia. There was anger in his expression and betrayal as well, and with that, he turned and started back toward the barn.

3

    Luke
    O rdinarily, he wouldn’t have gotten involved.

Hell, anyone who went to bars had been confronted with this scenario before, the events unfolding with an almost ridiculous predictability: a couple enjoying a night out, both of them drinking, when – no doubt fueled by too much booze – an argument begins. One starts yelling at the other, the other yells back, the anger escalates, and nine times out of ten, the man ends up grabbing the woman. By the hand, the wrist, the arm, whatever. And then?

That’s where things got trickier. A few years ago, when he was riding in Houston, he’d been in much the same situation. He’d been decompressing at a local bar when a man and woman began arguing. After a minute or so, with their voices rising, it turned physical and Luke had intervened then, too – only to be turned on by both the man and the woman, each screaming at him to leave them the hell alone and to mind his own business. The next thing he knew, the woman was clawing at his face and latching on to his hair while he scuffled with the man. Fortunately, no real damage had been done – others had quickly intervened to separate the three of them. Luke had walked away shaking his head and swearing that from then on, he would stick to his own affairs. Hell, if they wanted to act like idiots, why try to stop them?

Which was exactly what he’d intended to do in this instance. He hadn’t even wanted to join the after-party in the first place, but he’d been talked into it by a few fellow riders who wanted to celebrate his comeback and drink to his victory. He’d ended up winning the event, after all – both the short go and the event total. Not because he’d ridden particularly well, but simply because no one else had completed his ride in the final round. He won essentially by default, but sometimes that was how things played out.

He was glad no one had noticed his hands shaking beforehand. The tremors were a first for him, and although he wanted to believe that it was because of the long hiatus, he knew the real reason. His mom did, too, and she’d made it clear that she opposed his return to the ring. Ever since he’d mentioned the possibility of riding again, things had been strained between them. Ordinarily, he’d call her after he finished an event, but not tonight. She wouldn’t care that he’d won. Instead, he’d simply texted her after the event that he was fine. She hadn’t responded.

After a couple of beers, he was only just feeling the acidic rush of fear ebb away. He’d retreated to his truck after each of his first two rides, needing to be alone and settle his nerves. Despite his advantageous standings, he’d actually considered forfeiting. But he’d crushed that instinct and gone back out for his last ride of the night. He’d heard the