Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(4)

Even if they had complained, it would’ve been wasted effort.
What would he do if this “break” became permanent? Who would Chase McKay be if he wasn’t a bull rider? What would he do?
Not go back to Sundance and ride the range looking for lost cattle with his brothers and cousins. He’d sold his portion of the ranch to the McKays who wanted to keep the legacy alive for themselves and their children. Chase hadn’t seen a life in Wyoming as something he wanted.
He’d opted not to go to college or a trade school, but straight into the world of rodeo. He’d never developed a hobby. He had nothing in his life he was passionate about except bull riding.
So why had he allowed his riding skills to erode to the point he was standing on the brink of losing everything that mattered to him? For another nameless piece of ass in a cheap motel in another stop along the tour?
Fuck that.
He needed a plan.
He needed to get back to basics.
He needed to prove to himself he could get a handle on his own life.
He needed to make a decision and stick to it.
And he really needed to stay away from easy women.
Hell, he needed to stay away from all women. Swear off women. Forever. Okay, maybe not forever. For at least a month.
At that moment, a star tumbled from the sky, which he took as a sign.
No women for a month. No sex. No exceptions.
Chase had never seriously abstained. Oh sure, he’d bragged to his brothers and cousins he’d gone for four months without sex—but that’d been a total lie. He’d been too embarrassed to admit he had no willpower when it came to offers of free and easy sex and he’d blown it within the first week. Not only that, he’d f*cked up his chance of ownership in a prize bucking bull because he couldn’t keep his damn Wranglers zipped. Not even his buddy calling him a f*cking pathetic man-whore had changed his love-’em-and-leave-’em ways. Goddamn. His life had been careening out of control for the better part of a year. He hadn’t hit rock bottom, but he sure could hear his boots scrabbling for purchase on that ledge from where he was teetering.
Enough. Focus on the here and now.
Mind racing, he trudged back to the motel. He opened the door and tried not to goggle at the two women indulging in a mutual sixty-nine.
Janae lifted her head from between Rhea’s thighs and grinned at him. “Chase! You’re back. We’ve been entertaining ourselves, like you asked.”

“I see that. And as much as I appreciate your…efforts, I’m afraid, ladies, that I have some bad news.”

Two weeks later…

Kane McKay answered the phone with a brusque, “Chase? Why’re you callin’ me?”

“Nice to hear your voice too, cuz.”

“Sorry. Lack of sleep makes me cranky. What’s up?”

“I need a favor. And it’s gonna sound really freakin’ weird, so just hear me out.”

“Okay.”

“I need a place to crash. I don’t want anyone—and yeah, by anyone I mean my folks, my brothers and the rest of the assorted McKays—to know I’m in Wyoming.”

Silence. “Ya ain’t killed someone and are on the run from the law or anything?”

“No. I was suspended from the PBR. Mostly because of bullshit politics—” Still in denial, buddy? “—but I need time to figure out my next move. I can’t do it with my family hovering.”

“So it’d just be you?” Kane asked skeptically.
“Yep.”

“No women?”

“I’ve sworn off women.”

“Again? What is that? The fourth time this year?”