Travis Wheatley falls in love when he sees you riding Bronco.

The Montana Rider’s Association are bringing back the women’s event for the first time since the forties and the prize, it rivals anything he’s seen in Dallas.

The aim of the game is to stay on the horse for eight seconds, no matter how much it may fight you. It’s messy, violent and adrenaline inducing.

“She needs the money.” Rip tells him as the two of them watch you from behind the fence that circles around the arena. “She’s just coming out of a messy divorce, she let the bastard have everything just so she could keep the horse. He told her he’d have it put down if he ever got his hands on it.”

The horse is called Artemis, she’s a white Arabian with a sleek coat and a glossy mane. They’re known as a light breed, excelling in both strength and agility, great for barrel racing. He’d fawned all over  her when he’d first laid eyes on her. She was a gorgeous creature, spirited, well cared for. The two of you are a match made in heaven.

“He sounds like a nasty son of a bitch.” Travis says as he sips from his bottle of beer, his breath catching as the Bronco tosses you. Those three seconds it takes you to move are the longest of his life but then you get back up on your feet, a little dirty, a little battered and you go again.

You’re the ballsiest damn woman he’s ever met.

“Malcom Beck.” Rip tells him and the name triggers something inside of Travis. He’s heard the rumours, cruel to his horses and to his wife, which was why she was always travelling the country competing in barrel rolling competitions. “He blackballed her from all the other stables, which is why we’re housing Artemis here. It’s not enough that he took everything, he needs to make her life difficult too.”

“She leave him?” Travis asks, his gaze straying down to his watch as he counts the seconds because your back on that Bronco and this time you’re staying put.

“The women she could put up with but then he tried to stop her competing, tried to take the horse.” Rip shakes his head, his palm rubbing across his grizzled chin. “It was the only thing that gave her any joy in that piece of shit marriage.”

You make eight seconds, and then you do it again and again and again until Lloyd calls you off because both you and the Bronco are both tired. Travis greets you at the gate with a beer and you press the cool glass against your flushed cheeks before you pop the cap off.

You have that look in your eyes, the same bright, exhilarated look that he gets when he’s competing. There’s a wildness in you right now, your husband he tried to tame it, stifle it but Travis he wants to run with it, all the way out into the mountains and however far it goes.

“You wanna get into some trouble tonight?” He asks you, his shoulder bumping against yours as you both sit down on the grass outside the arena. “No strings, just a mutual thing between two people who haven’t felt tenderness in a while.”