Page 11 of Roping My Rival

Except Warren.

Still no championship for him, even after I left the circuit. Yet he still reaps the rewards of being a rodeo king by proxy with his father, though. Must be nice.

Warren Burke is an entitled ass. It’s a great ass, but the man attached to it is unfortunate.

Yet here I am in his family’s empire because I need cash.

Currently, Jesse Burke, the steer wrestler and the most incredibly sunshine-happy person ever, is pacing the lobby. When I enter, he snaps his head up, desperation replacing his happy demeanour.

“Please tell me you’re the one I just spoke to about the job?” He cocks his head. “You’re in rodeo, aren’t you? You look familiar.”

“I am. Dane Walker, tie-down roping.”

“Ah! I knew I recognized you.” Noise comes from inside the building, and Jesse drops the formalities. “Okay, here’s the thing. There are 27 loose pigs in there. I need them caught.”

“Pigs?”

“It’s a long story, and it’s not really what the job posting is for, but I’m desperate. I can fill you in after. So… pig catching?”

Jesse’s expression is filled with hope that I’m not about to turn around and walk out.

“Yeah, man. I can do that. But there’s another job other than this?”

His shoulders sag. “Oh, thank god. It’s this way.” I follow Jesse back to the rodeo ring. “There is, and I’ll tell you all about it after we deal with the pig situation.”

A series of squeaks and grunts sounds as we get to the rodeo ring. A group of adorable pink pigs huddle together, and I raise an eyebrow at Jesse. “There are 27? This is only 8. Where’s the—” A loud squeal sounds behind us as a giant black-and-pink pig takes off down a row of seating.

“They got loose.”

“Alright. Questions later. Do you have any rope?”

Two hours.

That’s how long it took me and Jesse to corral 27 pigs. I can assure you it’s not a task I want to do again soon.

“Want a beer?” Jesse asks as he wipes his brow.

“Absolutely. Then you can tell me the story of how pigs got loose in here.”

I follow him down a short hall to an office. He unlocks the door and motions for me to sit on the couch while he walks to a mini fridge in the corner. It’s a comfortable office with photos of the family covering the walls and an oversized sofa against the wall. Jesse passes me a can, and we both pop the tabs and raise them in a toast before we drink.

Jesse plops into the desk chair, splaying his long legs in front of him. There’s a tear in his jeans from when he tackled a pig, and it dragged him along for a few feet on the cement floor. Steer wrestling is easier, apparently.

“I have a daughter, Maise. She loves three things. My dad, hot dogs, and pigs. A trucker needed to bring his rig in for repairs and asked if he could house the pigs here overnight because they couldn’t stay cooped up in a trailer. Anyway, I said yes and my brother…” Jesse sighs and takes a drink before continuing. “My brother, whom I love dearly, didn’t secure the gate properly. I brought my daughter here on the way to daycare, thinking, hey let’s show her all the pigs. One met me at the fucking door, and I had to take her to daycare without pigs.”

Jesse sighs, and I want to laugh if his only problems are a disappointed toddler and wayward pigs.

“I assume you tried to wrangle them yourself.”

“I had to. Warren wasn’t answering his phone, and my youngest brother is no help with anything like this. I certainly wasn’t calling my dads because I don’t want to look incompetent, you know?” He drinks again. “But I guess I am when it’s catching pigs.”

Jesse laughs and shakes his head. “Thanks for rescuing me.” He pulls a wallet from his pocket and hands me five twenty-dollar bills. “As discussed.”

Taking the bills, I stuff them into my pocket. “I appreciate it. So what’s the real job?”

“Well… you might find catching pigs more glamorous.”

“If it pays well, I don’t care.”