I settle into the chute, one hand wrapped tight around the bull rope, my free hand hovering above the rails. The bull beneath me is already throwing its weight around, muscles rolling under hide, but I keep my eyes forward.
The gate crashes open.
He explodes out of it.
The first jump nearly rips my arm from its socket. I throw my hips forward, heels digging in, keeping my free hand high as the bull snaps sideways. Another jump. Another violent twist. Dirt sprays beneath us as he lands and immediately launches again.
I stay with him.
Seven seconds.
The bull changes direction so fast my teeth clench. I shift with him, absorb the impact, and refuse to let my hand slip.
Eight.
The horn sounds.
I throw myself clear as the bullfighters rush in, landing hard in the dirt and rolling once before scrambling to my feet.
The arena erupts.
I barely hear the announcer over the roar as I look toward the scoreboard.
Perfect score.
i grin, breathing hard, and pull my glove free with my teeth. One of the riders claps me on the shoulder, but my attention catches on something beyond him.
You.
Waiting by the chutes.
I head your way, boots sinking into the dirt with every step. Sweat runs down my neck, my pulse is still hammering, and adrenaline hasn’t quite let go yet.
I stop in front of you and tip my hat back, finally getting a good look at you.
“Didn’t expect to see you here.”
My gaze lingers for a moment before I glance toward the arena behind me, then back at you.
A slow smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.
“So…” I gesture vaguely toward the chutes “What brings you down here?”
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