Crockett's Seduction (6 page)

All the way down to his artistic soul, Crockett knew he had done a very bad thing by wrecking Valentine’s creation.

Not to mention, he was a very superstitious guy.

He had known he shouldn’t come looking for Valentine, not with everyone else at the rodeo. But he hadn’t been able to stay away. Now look at what had happened.

“I can press a new one,” Valentine said. “Or frost over it.”

Standing, Crockett laid the cookie on the counter. Silently, he stared at it, then he laid the heart beside the cowboy. “I’m sorry,” he said to Valentine. “Somehow I always do the wrong thing around you.”

“It’s fine. Really it is.”

He shook his head. “We have this great nervousness in my family about broken body parts.”

She moved it away from him so he couldn’t ponder its broken condition. “It’s a cookie.”

“It’s a representation of me.”

“But this is baking, not voodoo. Relax.” With water and something else—maybe liquid sugar—she reattached the pieces to the body. “See? Good as new.”

He frowned. “I guess. I am a little mystified as to why a cookie has my name on it.”

She gave him an arch look. “You’ll have to stay mystified.”

Well, he was. Valentine had many secrets, and if he didn’t know better, he might take hope from the fact she’d personalized a cookie for him. Unfortunately, she had been holding a basket, and he suspected the basket contained a cookie for every Jefferson brother.

“I’m not the only person who’s been working on a new creation,” Valentine said.

“Oh?”

“I found a sculpture in your kitchen.”

“I knew you’d been somewhere else today.”

“A little clay woman. Nude, sporting only a tattoo.”

Uh-oh. “I’ve been trying out a new medium.”

“Very nicely, I’d say. You seem to know the woman intimately.”

He hesitated. How could she not know it was her? Not that he’d ever seen her naked, but he’d certainly thought about it plenty. “I don’t know her
intimately
.”

“Really? Except for the face, the detail was striking.” She cocked her head at him, and he felt heat encircling his neck.

“I thought the face needed to be more or less blank,” he said hurriedly. He wasn’t about to admit that, because he’d seen her face, he had that committed to memory. It was the rest of her he thought about constantly. Plus he hadn’t elaborated on the face because he didn’t want his brothers ragging him to death about having a thing for Valentine. That would be misery for him.

This meeting hadn’t gone well. He shouldn’t have come. But it was just hard thinking about her being back in Union Junction when the rest of them were having fun, and he knew good and well she hadn’t gone to the rodeo because of him and Last.

If he’d broken his cookie heart, though, perhaps tonight was his lucky night aboard Bloodthirsty Black! The family Curse of the Broken Body Parts seemed to occur only once—no one had ever been injured twice that he knew of. If he was falling in love with Valentine, then maybe he’d already taken his lumps in gingerbread form.

He considered that, taking in how pretty she looked in her apron, with a light dusting of flour on one cheek. Surely the rush of his blood every time he saw her was worth any pain? Where was the greatest source of pain—being near her and falling in love, or being away from her and denying himself the pleasure of looking at her and dreaming of her?

Valentine put his cookie into her basket and covered it with the pretty white napkin. “The recipe isn’t perfect yet, anyway.”

He thought right now was just about as perfect as it could ever be. What he needed was a kiss to top off his good luck.

“I don’t think I can watch you ride,” Valentine said. “I’d be too nervous.”

That lifted his spirit. “Nothing to be nervous about. I only get broken in cookie form.”

“At least it was something simple like your heart.” She smiled at him. “If it had been your leg or your head, I couldn’t have fixed it.”

He stared at her. She had no understanding of how important his heart was to him. And he knew that kissing her without making her his would only make his heart hurt worse. “I’m going now,” he said. “You coming or staying?”

Her big eyes widened. “It’s very awkward.”

“I’ll smack Last if he says another thing.”

She gasped. “I meant with Marvella and the stylists.”

“Oh.” He tried to look nonchalant and thought he might be failing. “I can’t smack them. Not even Marvella. They’re girls.”

“And I wouldn’t want you to smack your brother for me. I’m giving a Father’s Day picnic for him. We’ve just gotten to a comfortable spot in our relationship.”

Rats. There were times when he’d love to pound Last. “You know, when Last was a kid, we wouldn’t have dreamed of smacking him. He was the baby, and we all protected him. The family compass, we called him.” Crockett sighed.

“Maybe it’s not a good idea for me to come with you,” Valentine said softly. “I really feel like I might be the source of nonpositive change in your family.”

“Actually, the changes happened before you came along.” Crockett shrugged. “Hop in the truck. You never know. You might be the change we need.”

“My work
is
all done, and I’d love to be at my daughter’s first rodeo….”

“There. All agreed upon. Somebody will
probably need bandaging up, and if you can do it with that water and liquid sugar trick, all the better.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

Grinning, he put his hat on. “We’re big boys. We can take the pain. C’mon, little baker. We’ve got some road to travel.”

V
ALENTINE LEFT
the cookies at the bakery, vowing to make Crockett a new one later when she returned—one that hadn’t landed on the floor and had its heart broken.

Now, sitting in the stands across from the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls, her old co-workers and housemates, Valentine had to admit to feeling very uncomfortable. She had never sat on Delilah’s side of the stands before, and though she was with her new family, she felt exposed. Her life had changed so much since she’d lived in Lonely Hearts Station. For the better, she knew.

Last loaded up in the gate and Annette watched her daddy in big-eyed wonder. Bad-Ass Blue burst into the arena a moment later and did his level best to rid himself of the cowboy without success. Last jumped off triumphantly, waving to the crowd.

Then he jumped up into the stands and gave his daughter a big kiss. “You brought me luck!”

Over her daughter’s head, Last caught Valentine’s eye. “And I’m sure you did, too.”

She blinked, startled. “I doubt it. You didn’t seem to need luck.”

“Every cowboy needs luck.”

Was he flirting? She didn’t think so, but…“Congratulations. You got a great score.”

He didn’t even glance at the judges. He just stared at her, his eyes questioning. “You’re never going to like me, are you?”

Her heart stopped. “
Like
you?”

“Be friends. The way you are with my brothers.”

She winced. “It’s hard.”

After a moment, he nodded. “I understand.”

He left, and next to her, Mimi rolled her eyes. “Don’t fall for that.”

Valentine turned to her. “What do you mean?”

“The Jefferson men pursue when they want to and ignore when they want to. But they never, ever do something halfway.”

“I really didn’t understand what he was asking,” Valentine admitted. “Is he talking friendship, or something else?”

Mimi sighed. “He is generally confused. Last’s a pleaser. He wants everybody around him to be happy. That’s great, but
you
don’t want to be confused by it.”

“So he’s not—”

“No.” Mimi shook her head. “A Jefferson male in hot pursuit is not easily mistaken. You’d
know
.”

Valentine wasn’t comforted. Crockett certainly hadn’t been after her in hot pursuit.

“Be guilt free. I sense that he feels bad for the way he’s handled things with you.”

“Oh.”

Mimi shrugged. “Then again, those boys are not always true to form. You do know about the Curse of the Broken Body Parts, don’t you?”

“Crockett mentioned something about it.”

Mimi’s light brows rose. “Really? Well, then it’s on his mind, isn’t it?”

“What’s on his mind?”

“The thing they all dread the most. The pain,” Mimi said conspiratorially. “Crockett’s loading up on Bloodthirsty Black, and no one has ridden that bull to the bell yet. Ever! So in just a minute, we’ll all get to see if he’s cursed. I have to say, as a close female friend of the family, I do enjoy watching them be afraid of
something
.”

Valentine didn’t want Crockett to get hurt. Her fingers squeezed together; she felt a nervous ache in the pit of her stomach. What if he really was injured?

The what-ifs were too awful to contemplate.

A second later, the gate shot open. Bloodthirsty lurched out, snorting and throwing hooves as if he had fire on his back and was determined to put it out. Crockett hung on, his head snapping, his body coiled with unbearable tension as he was flung back and forth. Valentine felt faint, but she squeezed Annette’s hand to try to keep her daughter from being worried.

The buzzer sounded, and Crockett jumped to the ground. Clowns rushed the still-kicking bull toward the breezeway. The crowd was silent for a stunned moment, then they burst into a hurrah and applause and a standing ovation.

Crockett waved his hat to everyone, but when Valentine thought he might come over to get congratulations from his family and friends in the box, he turned and left through a small door instead.

Valentine felt her heart shrivel up inside her.

“That was strange,” Mimi said. “He didn’t even wave over here. He didn’t look hurt to me. Did he seem hurt to you?”

“No, he wasn’t even limping.”

“Well.” Mimi turned to look at Mason. “Your brother’s got a stick up his backside. What’s his problem?”

Mason shrugged. “I told him he had to ride the bounty bull because he’d been an ass to Last. Now he’s won the high score. And the bounty prize money. He just became the big man at the rodeo, unless Last can ride the bull and score higher.”

Valentine’s breath caught inside her. “Why would Last ride?”

“It’s just the way the challenge is done here. Bounty bulls usually never get ridden to the buzzer, especially not that one,” Mimi said. “I can’t believe I just saw that. It was amazing.”

“It’s a stupid rule,” Valentine said, standing. “I’m going to go tell Last not to get on that crazy bull.”

Mimi turned. “Mason, you tell him. He’ll take it better from you.”

“That’s a great idea,” Valentine said. “Would you mind, Mason? Annette needs her father in one piece.”

Mason and Mimi looked at her.

“What?” Valentine asked uncomfortably.

“You’re awfully worried about Last,” Mimi pointed out.

“Of course I am! It would upset Annette dreadfully to see her father hurt.”

Mason nodded. “I’ll tell Last to forfeit his ride. Although he may not listen.”

I
N A PEN TO THE SIDE
of the breezeway, Last and Crockett were engaged in a heated battle. Valentine realized as soon as she stepped around the corner with Mason—Mimi had stayed in the stands with the children—that there was more at stake here than a winner’s buckle.

“I don’t think you should,” Crockett said. “I think my spine is cracked, I swear.”

“You’re in one piece. That’s good enough for me,” Last said stubbornly. “If you can do it, I can, too. And I plan on doing it better.”

Valentine gasped. “Last, maybe you should listen to Crockett.”

Turning, he glared. “Valentine, this does not concern you.”

She stepped back, stunned. “Your daughter is in the stands.”

“I’m going to ride.”

Mason blew out a breath. “You’re being a jackass.”

Last gestured at Crockett angrily. “If it was anybody else in the family, you’d be applauding their effort to grunt it out.
Fight through it,
” he mimicked Mason. “Why is it different for me? It’s a rodeo. The rules are the rules. I want my chance to challenge the winner. It doesn’t matter that he’s my brother.”

Crockett shook his head. “You shouldn’t do this. You owe it to Valentine and Annette.”

Last sprang, landing on Crockett, and they flailed on the floor. Rolling and punching, fists flying, they each scrabbled for victory.

“Mason! Stop them!” Valentine exclaimed.

Mason shook his head. “Give it a few more minutes. It’s good for them to work some of this out of their systems.”

Valentine felt ill. She had a funny feeling something more was going on between the brothers than a rodeo score; it felt uncomfortably as if they were fighting over her. But that was silly. Last didn’t want her; he never had. They were fine with their relationship the way it was.

He was proving a point, Valentine realized. He was every bit as rough and tough as his brothers; he no longer wanted to be seen as the baby, though he was past that by many years. He was a man. He might have a child, which should prove his manliness well enough, but he wanted to prove his strength to his brothers, and to the people in the stands. And to himself.

Valentine realized it was a challenge he could not back away from, and the fact that Crockett had won the undisputed crown just egged him on.
He saw Crockett as a competitor, both in the rodeo arena and outside it.

The men rolled by, sawdust and hay sticking to them.

They were silly! She’d had enough of them and their machismo. “I can’t stand movie heroines who do nothing,” she said apologetically to Mason. Picking up a bucket of water meant for the horses, she tossed the cold liquid over the grunting, struggling men.

They totally ignored the drenching.

“Not much fazes a man when he’s got vengeance on the brain,” Mason told her.

Then he reached down with big hands to separate the brothers. “That’s enough,” he said. “Last, if you’re gonna ride, you’ll need some juice in your battery.”

Breathing heavily, the two brothers glared at each other. They actually looked to be in pretty good shape, Valentine decided. Clearly Mason knew what he was doing.