Back in the Saddle (Jessica Brodie Diaries #1)(26)

A decent looking man stood next to me, awaiting my attention.

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s just that I was wonderin’ what you was laughin’ at?” His lips curved into a smile.

The only reason I could fathom him caring was to get me into bed. Still, he was attractive—I didn’t want to be rude.

“Oh nothing. Just thinking.”

I turned my gaze, nonchalantly of course, to a man flopping around on the back of a wildly bucking horse in the middle of the arena. He didn’t have a saddle, and the way his legs were pumping into the air, he looked like an upside-down leap frog. “Why does he kick the horse as he hangs on?”

“Well, now, why don’t you just come right down over here and I’ll explain to ya.”

“You don’t have to be so formal about sitting, but okay.”

I followed him to the stands. Once seated, he slid a little closer until his thigh was brushing mine. I noticed what must be his friends off to the side, sitting in a group and looking down at us with smirks.

I rolled my eyes. I hated when boys ruined a good moment by trying to show off for their friends. Plus, there were a lot of them, they were strangers, there was beer flowing, and I was alone. This was not a good situation for me to be in. It was probably time to go find my married friend.

“I must ask you, darlin’, why you look like yer sweatin’ like a whore in church?”

My brain stuttered a moment. All I heard was sweat and whore.

About ready to tell him where he could shove it, I noticed his eyes glance down at my damp shirt.

Ah, the spilled beer.

Still, what the f**k?

“Yeah, I spilled some beer on myself," I answered, looking away with disinterest. "Well, someone scared me, and I spilled on myself and him.”

“Ain’t that a bitch, huh? An’ he didn’t buy ya another?”

“No. Well, anyway, I should—“

“Well, I am a far better gentleman than that,” he cut me off, leaning closer, wanting to keep my attention. “But it ‘pears you already got one so we’ll go back to bareback ridin’, though it’s about done now.”

I did a double take, exit strategy momentarily forgotten. “Did you say bareback riding?”

His eyebrows creased as he nodded.

I looked back at the arena in slight disbelief, laughter bubbling up. “You call it.... you said... you call it bare back riding!” I was doubling over in hysterics. It wasn’t really this funny-- oh wait, in the land of the homophobe, it was. It was really this funny.

I calmed down and caught him looking back at his friends. When his gaze came back to rest on me with a halfcocked smile, I explained, “Where I come from, we refer to bare-backing as a....well, two dudes going at it without…ah...a raincoat.”

Confusion turned to disgust and he turned away. Which shouldn’t have shocked me. Many men couldn’t handle speaking about g*y men. I knew this. Gay women, oh yeah, they were all ears. It was a stupid double-standard that irritated me. But my disquiet grew exponentially with the level of hate and revulsion on this guy’s face. He wasn’t merely uncomfortable, he was remembering where his white sheet and pointed hat were kept. Time to go.

“No. That ain’t at all what we have here. Not. At. All.” He tried to cover smoothly. About as smooth as a tidal wave.

“Right. Got it. Anyway, I should probably get back to my friends.”

He moved a little closer. “Oh no, you can’t leave before the barrel racing. Then the bull riding. You don’t have any double meanings for those, I hope?”

“Oh no, all clean there, but my friends are waiting for me.” I got up to leave.

His fingers closed around my wrist and brought me back down with a jarring bump. Warning bells started blaring through my head, momentarily leaving me speechless. We were in a public spot, albeit slightly removed. He couldn’t very well do anything here. Not without someone noticing. My friends noticing, who must have missed me about now.

Just as I was deciding how to proceed, I was jerked up by the shoulders from behind.

Cue friends, right in time.

“Ready to go, Jess?” JP’s eyes were trained on the blond guy I was talking to.

He stood slowly, his eyes taking on a vicious edge that said he wasn’t the kind of guy to stand down when his party got busted up. His friends all stood with him.

Phil stepped forward, seeing a fight brewing. Dave's eyes were darting back and forth, sweat standing out on his face. He was planning an exit strategy. If a fight went down, it wouldn’t be five against three, it would be five big guys, against two smallish ones. And some girls. Not good.

I really wished Lump was with me right then. She would know what to do.

Taking a deep breath, I moved to the middle of the two factions, my back to the arena. I really hoped I didn’t get pushed, because I would fall down eight steps, backwards. I had to step in, though, I was the only speed bump to violence. I hope.

“Alright, just calm down, okay? I was leaving, anyway,” I started in a calm voice, hands out in front of me.

“Says who?” the blond guy said with claws imbedded in his words. His eyes raked down my front.

I heard rustling. One of the boys was about to prove that testosterone made men stupid. Seriously, what could this clown do? Kidnap me? Rape me? It was the middle of the day, in the middle of some stands, with witnesses everywhere. Everyone needed to just scale it back a notch!