long?
His clothes fit different, too. The low-riding black jeans hugged his ass, and every woman they passed turned and looked one more time. He’d rolled up the sleeves of a white button-up shirt and tucked the hem into his pants with a this feels comfortable confidence that few men achieved. The clothes could’ve been the first ones he grabbed out of the closet, but it didn’t matter because he wore them with a devil-may-care confidence women couldn’t resist, herself included.
She sighed.
No, Chance had to have a dick. Life was cruel. It wouldn’t be fair if death was cheating her, too.
“What do you think?” he asked as they made their way up the metal stands and took a seat, one that she thought might be a little too close to the arena.
On the opposite side of them were pens holding snorting, pissed off bulls. Right under the announcer’s booth were the chutes where bulls and bucking broncs would be released. A shiver ran down her spine. Why anyone would want to climb on top of a big, burly bull was beyond her. It took a special kind of lunatic to ride a bull.
The gates opened at the far end, and horses carrying riders from various ranches loped into the arena single file on each side. Some of the riders carried flags so the crowd knew who they represented. Nevaeh carried a blue flag that popped in the breeze. Destiny could almost reach out and touch the white fringe as she rode by.
The lead horses on both sides met at the other end, then passed as they circled back so there were two lines passing each other. When all the riders lined the edge of the arena, they stopped, leaving the center open.
The stands were filled with people all decked out in their best western shirts and jeans. Their boots were polished to a high sheen. They all came to their feet, hats off, including her and Chance, when two riders galloped their horses into the center of the arena. One rider held the Texas flag, the other the flag of the United States. The crowd whooped and hollered as the riders came to a stop in front of the stands. Then all went silent as a strong voice began to sing the National Anthem, followed by the state song, “Texas, Our Texas.”
Destiny stood beside Chance, barely able to take a breath as her throat clogged. What the hell was she doing? She was never sentimental.
Chance squeezed her hand. She raised her chin. She got a little dirt in her eye, that was all. No wonder, with all the clods the horses stirred up.
The songs ended, the crowd cheered, and the horses, with their riders, galloped out of the arena.
“So?” Chance asked.
“It’s okay.” When he didn’t say anything, she looked at him. The man was exasperating! “Yes, I’m having a good time.”
He smiled. “I knew you would.”
A few hours at a stupid rodeo wouldn’t make that much difference. How many years had she been cooped up at the sorting station?
It was a beautiful day. Clouds shielded them from the overpowering heat of the August sun. There was even a light breeze. Had Chance asked the gods for cooler temperatures and, because he was favored, they had granted his wish? What was she thinking? Chance was a mortal, but he did seem like a lot more at times.
Destiny rubbed a hand across her eyes. She’d like nothing more than to forget she desperately needed his soul to make her quota. It would be just the two of them and a life she always dreamed about having. She wouldn’t remember all the bad stuff.
Her heart skipped a beat.
No, she wouldn’t let her past intrude.
Not today.
Chapter 8
Destiny laughed as a clown danced in front of a bull. The bull was actually a costume with one person wearing the head and another the tail, except they kept coming apart in the middle. When the clown waved at the crowd and then dropped his handkerchief, the fake bull butted him. The clown came to his feet rubbing his backside before he dug his oversized shoe into the dirt as if he was about to charge the bull.
Destiny held
His clothes fit different, too. The low-riding black jeans hugged his ass, and every woman they passed turned and looked one more time. He’d rolled up the sleeves of a white button-up shirt and tucked the hem into his pants with a this feels comfortable confidence that few men achieved. The clothes could’ve been the first ones he grabbed out of the closet, but it didn’t matter because he wore them with a devil-may-care confidence women couldn’t resist, herself included.
She sighed.
No, Chance had to have a dick. Life was cruel. It wouldn’t be fair if death was cheating her, too.
“What do you think?” he asked as they made their way up the metal stands and took a seat, one that she thought might be a little too close to the arena.
On the opposite side of them were pens holding snorting, pissed off bulls. Right under the announcer’s booth were the chutes where bulls and bucking broncs would be released. A shiver ran down her spine. Why anyone would want to climb on top of a big, burly bull was beyond her. It took a special kind of lunatic to ride a bull.
The gates opened at the far end, and horses carrying riders from various ranches loped into the arena single file on each side. Some of the riders carried flags so the crowd knew who they represented. Nevaeh carried a blue flag that popped in the breeze. Destiny could almost reach out and touch the white fringe as she rode by.
The lead horses on both sides met at the other end, then passed as they circled back so there were two lines passing each other. When all the riders lined the edge of the arena, they stopped, leaving the center open.
The stands were filled with people all decked out in their best western shirts and jeans. Their boots were polished to a high sheen. They all came to their feet, hats off, including her and Chance, when two riders galloped their horses into the center of the arena. One rider held the Texas flag, the other the flag of the United States. The crowd whooped and hollered as the riders came to a stop in front of the stands. Then all went silent as a strong voice began to sing the National Anthem, followed by the state song, “Texas, Our Texas.”
Destiny stood beside Chance, barely able to take a breath as her throat clogged. What the hell was she doing? She was never sentimental.
Chance squeezed her hand. She raised her chin. She got a little dirt in her eye, that was all. No wonder, with all the clods the horses stirred up.
The songs ended, the crowd cheered, and the horses, with their riders, galloped out of the arena.
“So?” Chance asked.
“It’s okay.” When he didn’t say anything, she looked at him. The man was exasperating! “Yes, I’m having a good time.”
He smiled. “I knew you would.”
A few hours at a stupid rodeo wouldn’t make that much difference. How many years had she been cooped up at the sorting station?
It was a beautiful day. Clouds shielded them from the overpowering heat of the August sun. There was even a light breeze. Had Chance asked the gods for cooler temperatures and, because he was favored, they had granted his wish? What was she thinking? Chance was a mortal, but he did seem like a lot more at times.
Destiny rubbed a hand across her eyes. She’d like nothing more than to forget she desperately needed his soul to make her quota. It would be just the two of them and a life she always dreamed about having. She wouldn’t remember all the bad stuff.
Her heart skipped a beat.
No, she wouldn’t let her past intrude.
Not today.
Chapter 8
Destiny laughed as a clown danced in front of a bull. The bull was actually a costume with one person wearing the head and another the tail, except they kept coming apart in the middle. When the clown waved at the crowd and then dropped his handkerchief, the fake bull butted him. The clown came to his feet rubbing his backside before he dug his oversized shoe into the dirt as if he was about to charge the bull.
Destiny held
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