Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(36)

Ava tried not to read too much into the continual stroking of Chase’s ragged thumb across her knuckles. “What do you have planned? Because it sounds more involved than you heading to River Bend to test bulls for a few days.”

“It is.” He dry-washed his face and heaved a long sigh. “Remember during the truth or lie game when you asked me the biggest lie I ever told?”

Ava nodded.
“I didn’t fess up because this one is huge.”

“Did you kill someone?”

“God no.”

“Did you make a deal with a crossroads demon to give you five years of success for your soul? And now the five years are up and he’s coming to drag you to hell?”

Chase gaped at her as if she’d sprouted horns. “Jesus, Ava. Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“Uh, hello? I was on a TV show that dealt with supernatural beings and otherworldly issues. I always think along those lines. Anyway. Proceed.”

“When I turned eighteen and started competing professionally, everyone commented I was a natural. One of the best rookies to come along in years. But the truth was I had two years experience. I’d been competing in bull ridin’ in the PRCA since I was sixteen.”

Ava’s eyebrows drew together. “How?”

“By using another name. My buddy Jet lent me his older brother’s birth certificate so I could register and get my PRCA pro card. Every weekend Jet and I raced to the closest event if I’d scraped up enough entry money.”

“But doesn’t everyone around here know everyone else? And aren’t the McKays infamous in the rodeo world?”

“I kept a low profile. Plus, I sucked.” He groaned. “Bad. I got the hang of it after a dozen events. Started putting some jingle in my pocket. But that wasn’t the best part. The best part was I finally got to do what I’d always dreamed: ride bulls.”

“What name were you riding under?”

He grinned. “That’s the ironic thing. Jet’s last name was Chase. His brother’s name was Bill Chase, so we figured it was meant to be.”

“So no one besides Jet knows you did this?”

“I didn’t tell my family or my friends. Back then it was all about getting on as many bulls as possible and learning the basics. That’s what I need to relearn now.” He slipped his wallet from his back pocket and thumbed through a stack of cards until he found the one he wanted. “I’m still a member of the PRCA. So I figured it’s time to bring out Bill again.”

Ava angled closer and pushed up the brim of his hat. “Ah, hate to break it to you cowboy, but this face you got going on? Ain’t exactly forgettable. I’ll remind you that you’ve been on TV. And you’ve built a sizeable fan base. You are recognizable. You should worry about PBR fans recognizing your megawatt smile. And this beautifully chiseled face. And this remarkably distinctive hair.”

“Easy fix. I’ll frown all the time. I’ll grow a goatee. I’ll even shave off my hair.”

“You’re really serious about this.”

“Yes, I am. Never been more serious in my life.”

She removed his hat, setting it on the table—upside down, as she’d seen him do. She fingered the ends of his hair, then sifted her hand through the soft strands to stroke his scalp. “I’d hate for you to cut this. Even though the length reminds me of a swashbuckling pirate and not a cowboy.”

He didn’t back away from her touch. “It’ll grow back.”

“If you’re sure about hacking it off, and if you own a pair of clippers, and if you’ll let me come along on the road with you, I’ll cut it for you.”