Free A Wild Red Rose by Lynn Shurr

their food, shelter, and affection. Lay down the rules and stick to them. Reward good behavior with praise and attention and the occasional treat. He’d start right now.
    “Renee, I’ve enjoyed your company, but some things you got to know. Don’t take without asking. Don’t expect me to pay for stuff you don’t really need. And don’t flirt with other men in front of me. If you can’t live with that, I suggest you return all this crap tomorrow and use your money to fly home because we won’t be near any airports for a long time after this if you stay. Your choice. Now, I’ve got to get over to the arena and tape up, then warm my muscles on the exercise bike. I hope you’re still here when I get back tonight.” Clint picked up the duffel containing his knee and shin pads, his chest protector and running shoes, and walked out to fight the bulls, leaving the untamed tiger alone.
    ****
    Clint couldn’t worry about his love life when in the bullring. He stood near the gates, waiting for the bull and rider to explode from the chute. This was a high caliber event with some of the rankest bulls known on the circuit. A man could earn a ninety point score on their backs or wind up in the hospital. Earlier, one of the worst animals had gored Steve Darden in the arm before the bullfighters could drive off the big, black beast with the unclipped horns by using swats of their hats and catcalls. Without their intervention, the injury would have been worse, much worse. Steve walked out of the arena under his own power.
    During a break, Clint went to chug down a sports drink. He caught sight of Renee positioned low in the stands. Hard to miss with those long waves of blazing red hair, she sat with her feet propped up on a railing. He couldn’t help but notice her shiny black boots, topped by brand new boot cut jeans and a stretchy emerald green, rhinestoned top that showed a lot of cleavage and fit like a coat of lacquer on her skin. Wouldn’t surprise him at all if Renee carried body glue in that big satchel to keep herself from falling out of some of her outfits. She talked to—no, make that flirted with—the guy next to her, judging by how she rubbed up against him, breaking every rule Clint had set for her earlier in the day. Maybe, she solicited a ride to the airport. He couldn’t dare to care right now.
    Pedro Sanchez, dark-eyed and full of Hispanic machismo, was slated to go first in the next round of bull riding. He came up along side of the bullfighter and leaned against the same section of fencing. Without turning his broad, handsome face toward Clint, he said, “I drew Cyclonic.”
    “He’s well-named. He’ll spin into your hand and won’t stop even when you’re off his back. If you get a choice, watch which side you land on.”
    “I wanted to say, I wasn’t messing with your girl, yesterday. She comes on strong like Cyclonic.” Pedro shifted his dark eyes from the empty bullring to Clint’s face.
    “I know Renee. Don’t worry about it.”
    “My life is in your hands, man.”
    “I’ll do my job.”
    Pedro went to get his bull rope. Clint finished his drink and pitched the plastic bottle into a trashcan. Renee had left her seat, but at least the man she’d been seducing still sat there alone. He had to put the woman out of his mind as the next round of riding began. He went to join two other bullfighters by the gates.
    Cyclonic stood already wedged into the narrow chute. Pedro balanced up on the side boards getting his bull rope around the uncooperative animal with the help of the wranglers. The rider dropped down on the beast and pounded his gloved hand into the grip. He shouted, “Go,” and the gate swung open on long ropes. His sickening, circular ride ended at the six-second mark when he flew off the right side of the bull directly into the vortex of the spin. One big cloven hoof punched down squarely on Pedro’s knee. Cyclonic lowered his head to savage the rider with a blunted horn, but the