Page 22 of One Last Rodeo

He’s been hovering, lingering, finding excuses to come back just to talk to her. And she hasn’t shot him down yet. I’m not sure she's even noticed how much attention she’s pulling from the men in here. Maybe that’s why she wore red tonight. Because she doesn’t get the influence she has on the male species.

“I’m good,” she says, barely flicking the guy a glance before dismissing him by turning away and back to her plate like it’s more interesting.

He nods and walks off. I lean across the table, lowering my voice so the rest of the guys don't hear.

“He’s flirting with you,Doctor Alba.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please focus on your food and not what’s happening over here.”

“No.”

She shoots me a glare that I'm sure is meant to cut. It does nothing to me. I like when she’s mean. I give her a wink back.

“So, Doctor Alba, what did Jensen’s MRI results say?” Joel asks her.

I got the results about thirty-minutes ago and was hoping not to have to digest them over dinner with my teammates and a woman who I can’t stop staring at.

She lifts her glass of red—only one tonight, and yeah, I’m counting—and takes a slow, focused sip. I wonder what she’d be like with whiskey or tequila warming her up. I wonder if she notices that I never drink. That I haven’t touched alcohol once since the heart surgery. That she’s the only person in this room whose opinion on that matters. I wish she’d tell me that I’m a good boy for listening to her. Maybe she doesn't care since I didn't listen to her other advice.

“He needs a full week off,” she says in that clinical tone she uses with us riders. “We’ll tape it, manage the swelling, keep him on meds for pain, and monitor it so it doesn’t tear.”

“So, you're out for the ride in Los Angeles, huh?” Dawson asks.

His arm is draped across the back of his wife Lo's chair. She normally spends most of her time traveling for her family'sbusiness, but she flew in for tonight's event and to steal Dawson away for the upcoming Series break. I think they're headed somewhere warm. Hawaii, maybe.

Dawson doesn't make much from training a bunch of hardheaded bull riders, but he's got a successful ranch back in Maple Grove, Tennessee that mostly runs itself now and pays the bills. That's where most of us live during the off-season and how a lot of us first met.

Dawson raised Micah, Joel, and Noa like they were his own after their parents passed away, and he gave me a place to practice riding when I was first starting. The bull riding gig is something he does just because he loves the sport. And because, for reasons I'll never understand, he enjoys babysitting idiots who think getting launched off two thousand pounds of muscle is a good way to make a living.

Probably because he gets it. They say you never really leave the rush of riding behind even after you quit.

I nod. “Afraid so. But that should be the only one that I'll miss.”

“Damn.”

I shrug like it doesn’t gut me. Because I trust Catalina. I should’ve trusted her from the start instead of turning it into a pissing match. This is my penance. But if anyone can get me back in time for the quarter finals, it’s her and our training staff. And I’d crawl before I let myself miss that.

“I already have a press release prepared for the Los Angeles ride,” Rory, our head of Public Relations pipes in. “We’ll manage the reaction from the fans and be sure they understand this is just temporary.”

The guys fall back into their usual banter, but the noise fades around me. All I hear is Catalina’s voice. All I see is her.

Catalina’s talking with Rory, June, and Noa now. Well, June’s talking, Noa’s reviewing our itinerary, Rory’s typing on her laptop, and Catalina is tolerating it, which is basically a miracle. Video games, social media and photography are June’s subjects of choice, and it sounds like she might be talking about all three at once.

I'm pretty sure she's trying to make it as a content creator with the way she's always on her phone. She tags along with us after hours but has never really let anyone get to know her beyond the surface. I'm also certain she slips out of the hotel after we've all gone to sleep to party in whatever city we're in. I always assumed it was because of professional boundaries that she keeps the details of her life to herself, but she seems to like Catalina enough to share.

Our server appears again, but he only hands the dessert menu to Catalina, like the rest of us don’t exist.

"Dessert or coffee, Doctor Alba?"

“Damn, can this guy fuck off already?” I mutter.

Raf snorts but doesn’t look my direction. Micah’s grin goes straight feral before he leans in, voice low. “You said Doctor Alba’s the one who repaired your heart?”

“Yeah.”