Momentum by Cassandra Carr Page A

down again right before the bull started spinning to the right. That put pressure on Marco’s riding hand, making it harder to stay atop the bull, but he gritted his teeth and held on.
    Then the bull seemed to almost lie on its side as it spun to the left, and Marco knew he was cooked. Luckily his brain reacted in time so he wasn’t just thrown off the animal toward the abyss, but he was still tossed a good distance, landing on his back. The air whooshed out of his lungs, choking him for real now, and he knew he needed to get up and safely away before the damn thing stomped on him, but his world was going black.
    One of the bull fighters made it over to him and bodily lifted Marco up onto the rail, holding him there with the weight of his body as his two cohorts distracted the bull and got him out of the pen. Marco gasped for air, still seeing stars.
    “You okay, bud?”
    Marco nodded. He still couldn’t speak.
    He knew he hadn’t stayed on, but hoped he’d at least get a little something for his trouble considering the difficulty rating attached to the bull. At least the damn animal would score highly for him. Marco wouldn’t finish in the money for this event for sure, but since the bulls were bucking even the most experienced riders today with regularity, he hoped his ranking was safe.
    It was never a good idea to second-guess yourself, since hesitating during your next ride because you’ve lost your confidence could kill you, but Marco couldn’t help wondering if the bull had simply been too much for him to handle. A man never liked to admit something such as that, but sometimes it was better to admit weakness and stay alive than take a chance on something so risky. Now he understood the other riders’ reactions when he’d chosen that bull the night before.
    Marco climbed over the fence slowly after his bull rope had been returned and dropped to his haunches on the other side, coughing and trying to pull air into his lungs despite their objections.
    Paolo made it to him first. He began to run his hands over Marco’s arms, which were not protected by the vest all riders were required to wear. “Are you hurt?”
    Marco shook his head and then shook off his brother’s hands. It had been several events since he’d gotten bucked off twice in the same competition and he was disgusted not only with that, but also with how the bull had bested him, knocking him on his ass and leaving him fighting to breathe.
    Conner and Garret approached. “I thought you had ’im,” Garret said, and Marco looked up to see a mixture of respect and sympathy in the other man’s eyes.
    Respect? That was something he didn’t always see from the other riders, many of whom thought he and Paolo were just playboys spending daddy’s money. Maybe some of them were finally turning the corner. This was Marco’s third season on the tour and Paolo’s second. It was about damn time people recognized they were for real.
    Marco coughed again and Conner and Paolo helped him up. He felt less than steady, but he’d be damned if he’d let these guys see it. He saw a streak of purple and yellow and then Natalie was in front of him.
    “What the hell happened? Are you all right?”
    He had no idea why a simple purple t-shirt revved him up so much, but right then, looking at her long blonde hair drawn back in braids and at that purple t-shirt she was wearing made him want to do very dirty things to her. She raised an eyebrow as if she knew the direction of his thoughts and made an impatient motion with her hands.
    Marco sighed. “I’m all right.” He removed his vest and Paolo’s glove, handing it back to his brother immediately and hoping he’d either find his or be able to buy a new one at the next event. Picking up his gear bag that Paolo had dropped as he’d skidded over at the end of the ride, Marco began the walk back to the riders’ prep area.
    Natalie fell into step with him. “Do you wanna be alone? It seems as if some of the