Bull Rider

Excerpt From: Bull Rider

“You’re kidding, right?” Wes Scott angled forward, eating up his co-workers words. He could barely hear Becca over the mayhem around them.

Leaning his elbows on the table they were lucky enough to have grabbed, Wes shook his head at the noise. The table overlooked the dance floor, and had the strategic advantage of being right beside one of the five bars inside the place.

Wes and Becca were the only ones manning the table while Jayne was out two-stepping, but he expected more people to show up later to keep them company. At least, that’s what they’d told him. This was supposed to be a welcome to Canada party, a little cultural outing for all of them to find out more about the country they’d be living in for a while and the people they’d be working with.

It was the only reason he was here tonight having his ears assaulted by the twangy sounds emanating from the band on stage. He wouldn’t have come voluntarily otherwise. Not that he had anything against country music, it just wouldn’t be his first choice.

Becca had been in the province for a few months now, but she’d already claimed the Alberta culture as her own. She was originally from Glasgow and she’d already tried to tell him the same story three times now about how Calgary and Glasgow were supposed to be linked. It didn’t make any more sense the last time than it did the first but he’d nodded and smiled anyway.

The rest of the blokes he was going to be working with were from all over Britain, all of them coming together here as complete strangers to work at the BFBS Radio Station on BATUS, the British Army Training Unit Suffield located practically in the middle of nowhere.

Working at the station was his first posting out of the country—it was practically his first time travelling out of England—but Jayne had assured him they’d be the best of friends by the time they went home. This was her second posting in a foreign country and she’d declared herself the unofficial expert.

All the DJ’s were living in Ralston Village, right on the edge of BATUS, but he’d never been more thankful to find out it was only a few hours outside Calgary. Wes was a London boy, himself, and couldn’t imagine living in a small village for any length of time without at least trying to go into town to a nightclub or something. Although, he hadn’t quite imagined this when he’d told Becca and Jayne he wanted to go out somewhere for the night.

His first time in a country bar and he would’ve assumed he’d stick out like a sore thumb. He’d worn a grey golf shirt over pressed jeans tonight because it was the only thing remotely country-ish that he owned. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly country-ish, but hell, not like he was going to wear chaps and a cowboy hat.

Although, he sure would like to see a few of these guys in arseless chaps. There was something about a cowboy that got his blood stirring. Among other things.