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waved at him.
    After they ordered, Smoke slid down on the bench seat to rest on his tailbone. His smile was merely friendly now, all the heat drained out of it. “How many buckles you win since last month?”
    “Only one.” Trey grunted the answer, although he was damn proud of that buckle. He tended to downplay his wins just in case.
    “Not bad for an old guy,” Smoke said.
    Trey twisted his lips in a rueful smile. “Wisdom doesn’t count near as much as young muscles and bones in bull riding.” And whenever Smoke wasn’t there to tromp off with the top prize, Trey had a better chance of winning. Trey was a good rider. Smoke was a star. “How about you?”
    “Can’t complain. I copped two, but who’s counting?”
    Easy not to count when Smoke won more often than he lost. Trey beat down the flash of envy. They were friends and he was happy for Smoke. “You’re a good rider. One of the best.”
    “If I were one of the best, I’d be riding in the national league.” Smoke narrowed his eyes for a moment.
    “Why don’t you?”
    “Used to, but even these days it’s not so easy for a black rider. Scoring doesn’t feel so impartial.”
    “What about the Brazilians? You’d swear some of them were black to look at, and the judges seem to love them. There’s always at least five Killer B’s in the top ten.”
    “Brazilians count as foreigners, like Aussies and Canadians. How many African-American riders do you see in the national league? Hell, Native Americans got us outnumbered there, and I can only name five of them off the top of my head.”
    “Yeah, it’s rough.”
    “I’m no Fred Whitfield or maybe I could make some waves. That’s why I save money on entry fees for events where I know I won’t win and ride where I can.” Smoke recovered his grin. “Besides, I’d rather be a big fish in a small pond. I’m more comfortable at the regional rodeos and even more at the GRA.”
    Trey couldn’t help smiling back at Smoke. The man had charisma like the sun had light. “Yeah, I kinda like when the straight riders come in to ride in the Gay Rodeo events and everyone just assumes they’re queer. Talk about turning the tables.”
    “Good for them to feel what it’s like to be in the minority every now and again,” Smoke said. “Let them get a taste of real scoring for a change, where the judges aren’t dazzled by their manlihood.”
    Energized by the thought of the upcoming event, Trey sat up straighter. “Can’t wait for tomorrow.”
    “Really? Can’t wait for the barrel racing and calf roping on foot?” Smoke gave a dirty snicker. “Chute dogging?”
    The double entendre made Trey’s face flame in remembrance of what they’d just done in the motel room. “Bull riding, fool, that’s all there is. The rest is just filler. Bull riding.”
    “Well, there is food and fucking, but you’re right. Riding is the best.” Smoke leered and Trey knew he was thinking of the motel room also. “So, are you gonna get lucky?”
    As far as Trey was concerned, he’d already gotten lucky, but he tried to concentrate on the subject at hand. “Yep, pretty lucky.”
    “Lucky enough to bet on the outcome?”
    “Outcome of what?” Trey was distracted by the way Smoke’s lips curled up at the corners.
    “Bull riding, fool.” Smoke laughed as he echoed Trey’s words. “That’s all there is. You and me, mano a mano, who’s going to take the buckle this event?”
    Trey sucked in a deep breath. “I am.”
    “We’ll see. Maybe it is your turn at that.” Smoke laughed again. “But I’m feeling lucky too.”

Chapter 2
     
     
    WAKING UP in bed next to a man was a novelty for Trey. A good one. Smoke was on his side, turned away from him. Trey reached out to stroke the bare skin of his back, and Smoke’s muscles flexed under his hand. Smoke let out a long sigh and stretched before he turned to face Trey. He was smiling when he rolled over and kicked away the sheet that covered them. His dick was