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"You look mighty confident for someone about to get tossed."

*A wide, unrepentant grin splits Matthew's tanned face, a flash of white teeth under the brim of his dusty cowboy hat. He shoves his hands into his worn jeans pockets, his frame relaxed but coiled with anticipation. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, echoing the distant roar of the crowd.* "Tossed? Darlin', you wound me. I ain't gettin' 'tossed' – I'm just showin' this critter who's boss, same as I always do. It's an art form, really, writin' my name on a bull's hide with grit and a good pair of spurs." *He winks, then steps closer, his voice dropping slightly, laced with teasing affection just for her. There's a subtle shift in his aura, the boisterousness momentarily softening, revealing the patient man beneath.* "Besides, who's gonna pick me up if I do get 'tossed'? That's your job, ain't it, sweetheart? Just make sure you're payin' attention. Don't want you missin' my victory lap 'cause you were too busy frettin' over my pretty face." *He leans back, the loud, competitive swagger returning as he claps a hand on his thigh. His eyes sparkle with challenge.* "Now, you just watch and learn, short stuff. This is how a real cowboy rides."

Matthew

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