Read Online Ride: A Bad Boy Romance by Roxie Noir - Free Book Online Page B

rodeo.”
    I know I shouldn’t mess with drunk people, but it’s so tempting sometimes, especially when I’m the only sober one around.
    “Right,” he says, and gives his head a little shake, like he can knock his confusion out through an ear. “You like it?”
    I turn away from the camera for a moment and look at him. He’s young, probably college-aged, though I don’t know if he’s ever been to a college course.
    Most of these guys haven’t. Rodeo riders are young, because the younger they are, the more reckless, and the faster broken bones and punctured lungs heal.
    Bull riding breaks people, and it breaks them fast. Most of the guys here are my age or younger, and it can be easy to forget.
    “I like—” I start, but someone else swoops in and snatches my camera off the table, laughing wildly and running away.
    “Hey!” I shout, and go after him, my heart squeezing in my chest.
    He turns and looks at me. It’s Jackson’s friend Raylan, and he rushes off to a knot of young men.
    “Cover me, y’all!” he says, and pushes between them.
    I grind my teeth together, but I know better than to get outwardly upset. I know Raylan’s type. I grew up with Raylan’s type, and he never got much beyond pulling cute girls’ pigtails just to get a reaction.
    He’s just gotten away with it for about ten years longer than he should have.
    “I hope you got four thousand dollars if you break that,” I call.
    I force myself to walk, not run, to where he is. He’s standing behind a couple other guys, his back turned.
    The other guys look a little alarmed when I say four thousand dollars . It’s not hard to push my way past them, and then I stand there, arms crossed.
    “Give it back, Raylan,” I say.
    I just watched him play keep away with another girl’s bra, and I’m not about to fall into the trap of looking like I’m enjoying this or flirting with him.
    “Come get it,” he says, and turns around.
    I have a bad feeling that I know what he just did with my camera. Black flames of rage kindle in my chest, but I don’t do anything. I know better than to seem upset.
    Instead, I hold out one hand.
    “This is my job,” I say. “You break that one, I’m out on the street.”
    Now the other cowboys look really nervous. Raylan considers this, the humor draining from his face.
    The karaoke song ends, and suddenly everyone’s looking at our standoff.
    “It’s right here,” he says, wiggling it a little.
    My stomach lurches. If he drops the camera, I’m screwed . I’ll probably have to go into Oklahoma City to get another one and put that on my credit card, and God only knows when I’ll be able to pay it off — not to mention I’ll lose a day of shooting.
    From the corner of my eye, I see Jackson walk over. For a moment, I’m afraid that Raylan is going to toss the camera to him or something, and then Jackson’s going to run somewhere with it.
    It’s like I’m on a playground. With children, except these children ought to know better by now.
    The flames of anger grow.
    “Give me the camera,” I say, keeping my voice low and soft.
    Raylan looks around at the other people, but they all look uneasy, and I think he realizes he’s the only one still playing the game.
    He hands it back, and I take it with both hands, holding it as tight as I can.
    Then he smirks.
    “Let me know if you see anything you like,” he says.
    Now I’m certain I know what he did with my camera. I turn it on, and after a second, the viewfinder screen lights up.
    I scroll back one picture and I’m not thrilled to see I was right: there’s a blurry, grainy photo of a flesh-toned tube sticking out of a pair of jeans.
    Raylan’s grinning, and I’m so mad I’m shaking.
    They would never do this if I were a man, I think. I wouldn’t have to play these stupid games. I wouldn’t get hit on by the people I’m trying to photograph.
    I could just do my job .
    I know better than to show them how angry I really am, because that’s