Ride

<p>It's the chance of a lifetime: photograph the World Rodeo Championships.</p><p><br></p><p>There are only a couple of rules: don't get in the way don't get trampled and don't get frisky with the cowboys. </p><p><br></p><p>As if I need to be told. I tried that once when I was dumb drunk and eighteen and no matter how good it felt I'm not about to make that mistake again. </p><p><br></p><p>I'm here to make a name for myself not become another buckle bunny.</p><p><br></p><p>I'm a professional and I don't care how charming Jackson Cody two-time World Rodeo Champion might be.</p><p><br></p><p>Even if it turns out he <em>does</em> remember our brief encounter all those years ago when I was dumb and drunk.</p><p><br></p><p>And especially not if he wants to re-start right where we left off.</p><p><br></p><p>It's a terrible idea. This gig is the beginning of the rest of my life. A foot in the door. A way to prove I can be taken seriously and Jackson is nothing more than pretty eyes a cocky smile and a mouth that makes the phrase <em>yes ma'am</em> sound absolutely filthy.</p><p><br></p><p>Problem is I know what else that mouth can do.</p><p><br></p><p>I've got a five-year plan. He barely thinks more than eight seconds ahead.</p><p><br></p><p>But when he rides? </p><p><br></p><p>It's perfect.</p>