Rodeo Riders (3 page)

Chapter Four

Trixie shivered under Jordan. Although she’d anticipated her mare’s nervousness, she couldn’t put her attention fully on distracting the horse from what was going on around them. No matter how resolutely she tried to focus on her upcoming ride, her mind refused to stay in the here and now.

It was evening. Time for the first day of the rodeo to begin. She’d survived the opening ceremonies by making sure she stayed in the middle of the barrel racers, where, hopefully, reporters and photographers wouldn’t spot her. Cantering into the arena dressed in her show-only, deep-red shirt and hat had nearly been her undoing for one reason. The bulls, although not yet loaded into the bucking chutes, were so close that she’d smelled and heard them. The usually laid-back eight-year-old Trixie had whinnied and tried to buck. Jordan had had her hands full and might not have been able to keep her mare under control if a couple of men on horseback hadn’t come up on either side, effectively squeezing Trixie between them. Their presence must have calmed Trixie, because she’d stopped prancing and whistling. The men’s black shirts identified them as stock handlers, Cougar’s employees.

“Cougar said you might have a bit of trouble with her.” The man on her right had indicated Trixie. “Asked us to keep an eye on things.”

“I appreciate it. She has more of a memory than I’d hoped she would.”

“Cougar told us what happened.”

But had he told his men everything she’d endured, she pondered as she waited for her turn to compete. It didn’t matter, at least not now, because she was about to do her best to put her demons behind her. After a year devoted to almost nothing beyond getting to the point where she could compete again, the time had come.

That’s what was important—not asking herself for the umpteenth time why she hadn’t seen Cougar today. Of course she’d gone out of her way not to be where she thought he’d be, but a considerate man does something to acknowledge the woman he recently bonked, right? Of course that worked both ways, or it would if she had a better handle on her emotions.

Let it go! You’re here to ride.

From where she and the other barrel racers waited just outside the arena, she could barely see the woman guiding her horse around the barrels, but yells and clapping left no doubt that the woman was doing well against the clock. A little more than a year ago, she had been one of the top competitors and had her share of awards to prove it. Thanks to the damage to her leg, she’d missed the rest of last season and the start of this one. Making up for lost time wasn’t going to be easy—nearly as hard as getting the Brahma-sized monkey off her back.

“Damn that Crystal!” the racer next to her exclaimed. “Thanks to a daddy willing to fork over for the best horses, she’s always going to be a pisser to beat.”

“It’s not just her horses,” another competitor observed. “Crystal goes all out. The broad is fearless.”

Fearless? What did that feel like?

When Crystal came cantering back, her face flushed and her smile showing a mouthful of perfect teeth, Jordan applauded. Inside, however, she warred with the impulse to beg Crystal to give her some of her fearlessness. Here. Now. Finally. Goal number one met. Number two coming up.

“You’ll do fine. All you have to do is believe in yourself.”

Cougar’s voice rolled over her. The earth-size knot in the pit of her stomach eased. Turning toward him, she took in his black outfit, especially the formfitting shirt with its silver snaps that played up the silver band on his cowboy hat. Even his boots carried out the same theme. Of course his horse was black, and a stallion. Not many rodeo participants risked having a testosterone-charged mount under them, but Cougar easily controlled the wide-eyed, prancing beast.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” she said when, finally, she remembered how to make her voice work. “I figured you had enough to do behind the fences.”

He guided his horse a little closer, then reined up, keeping the stallion a safe distance from Trixie, who obviously wasn’t in the mood for a suitor. “How are you feeling?”

Pretty much like I’m going to fly off in a million pieces.
“Rusty. Practicing at home isn’t the real thing.”

“At least you’re doing it.” He dropped his gaze to her leg.

“Cougar!” Crystal exclaimed, urging her gelding between Cougar’s and Jordan’s horses. “Fancy seeing you. Are you going to ride? No matter what bull you draw, my money’s on you.”

Cougar had started out in the rodeo business as a bull rider and twice had qualified for the finals. He’d finished high both times, and Harney County residents still boasted of the local boy who’d made good. He hadn’t competed in a while, and she’d assumed it was because the contracting business took too much time.

“Put your money away.” Cougar had been looking at Crystal. Now he returned his attention to Jordan. “Riding’s behind me.”

“You sure you won’t reconsider?” Crystal asked. “There’s nothing like a stud riding a bull to the bell to ring my chimes, if you know what I’m saying.”

Just then, the announcer called out the name of the next rider. Knowing she was set to go after Kari, Jordan shut everything else out of her mind. She’d practiced endlessly on the ranch and had been relieved to learn she hadn’t lost her skill or timing. Actually competing wasn’t that different from circling the barrels she’d set up herself.

Liar. Cougar wasn’t watching you then. And Rampage wasn’t a short distance away.

She rode two-handed when she competed, but Jordan had kept only one hand on the reins as she’d walked Trixie in circles prior to entering the arena. The switch had prevented Trixie from anticipating what was coming. Now, however, the sturdy mare shivered under her, prompting Jordan to sit back, shifting Trixie’s weight onto her hindquarters. At the same time, she pressed her knee against the mare’s right side, indicating she wanted Trixie to continue circling. Then a nod from the timer prompted her to stop. Heart hammering, she waited.

The flag dropped. Leaning low, she urged Trixie into a full-out gallop.

The first barrel. Close in on it, slow, lean as far as you can without losing your balance, circle, straighten, aim for barrel number two.

Even as the wind created by Trixie’s hard gallop grabbed her hat, something snagged Jordan’s attention. She couldn’t say what it was, couldn’t make sense of the blur.

Bull!
her insane instinct insisted.

Horse and cowboy
,
her rational side countered.

Rampage
hadn’t
gotten loose again. He
hadn’t
charged into the arena,
wasn’t
pounding toward her and Trixie. There’d be no collision, no terrified and squealing horse being knocked to the ground, no sound of snapping bones.

Ride, damn you! Ride. Barrel number two coming up fast. Slow. Slow. Lean and turn. Straighten. Find number three and race for it.

Once again a blur of movement slammed at her nerves. Time buckled back on her. Although it couldn’t be, she
heard
Rampage bellow,
felt
herself flying, hitting the ground, Trixie’s weight crushing her. And then, worst of all, staring up at the great Brahma’s churning hooves, thick, curving horns and impossibly powerful chest, knowing she couldn’t move, knowing she was going to be killed.

“Give our young lady a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer yelled. “This is her first time to compete since a serious accident last year. I know she’d appreciate your encouragement.”

Fighting tears and self-disgust, Jordan glanced up at the time clock. She’d never ridden that slow. Surely there’d been a malfunction. The hell there had!

Her fellow racers applauded when she returned to them, and she forced a rueful smile. After dismounting, she loosened the cinch around Trixie’s belly and rubbed the heavily breathing mare’s forehead. “You done good, old girl. A hell of a lot better than I did. And tomorrow can only be better, right?”

Trixie turned her head to the side and gave Jordan a look she interpreted as
it’s up to you. I did my part
.

“I know you did. Just be patient with me. There’s something about a head trip that—”

Trixie backstepped, compelling Jordan to grip the reins. When the mare stopped tugging, she turned to see what had startled her. She shouldn’t be surprised to see Cougar and his black stallion, but tell that to her heart. The way it pounded had to be attributed to shock.

“I’m going to be tied up until late tonight.” His too-dark eyes bore down on her, powering through the protective layers she tried to throw up. “You know which is my rig. I’ll leave it unlocked. Wait for me.”

Wait in that too-small space that’s alive with your essence? Feel your presence on my skin and think about what you’re going to say—and do?

“What for?”

“We still need to talk.”

She swallowed. “Just talk?”

“It’s your call.”

Cougar’s personal area had to be twice the size of hers, which helped defuse her claustrophobia, only, if she was being honest, fear of enclosed spaces had nothing to do with the state of her nerves.

After putting Trixie in her stall and mounting her other mare, she’d returned to the action. Her reason had been twofold. She wanted to get three-year-old Misty used to the sights, sounds and smells of a rodeo, and watching the other events had made it possible for her to take at least a part of her mind off her poor performance and what Cougar thought they needed to discuss.

All right. There’d been a third reason. She’d watched Cougar. He’d been in constant action, one moment behind the chutes as he supervised those handling the bulls during their event, the next riding pickup in the arena. Like his stallion, he’d seemed tireless. In an environment filled with the most masculine of men, he stood out.

And no matter how hard she’d tried not to let it happen, thoughts of the body beneath the clothes stalked her.

“Is that why you’re here?” she asked herself. At the moment, she was looking through a folder filled with newspaper clippings about the various rodeos he supplied bulls for. He appeared in only a handful of the photos, too often at a distance. But there was one close-up of him being interviewed with a pen full of Brahmas behind him. His hat was pulled low on his forehead so she could barely make out his features, but his sweaty shirt clung to every muscle and rib. Just looking at him, she could feel his heat.

A sound outside spun her around. Heart hammering, she opened the door and looked out. Cougar and a short, slim man were standing a short distance away. Cougar glanced at her and then turned his attention back to his companion.

“If you can find better hay, see if you can get it delivered tomorrow,” he said. “But I’m guessing this is the best we can do.”

“I’ll get on it at first light.” The spare and weathered man was looking at her, but she couldn’t guess whether he was surprised to see a woman waiting for Cougar. Probably not. “Anything else?”

“Get some sleep.”

“More than you will, that’s for sure,” the man said as he walked away.

“Who was that?” she asked when the silence threatened to drive her crazy.

“Todd Little Deer, but we call him Slim. Not too original. He’s been with me since shortly after I got into the business. He knows what I’m thinking before I do.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

“Sometimes. Let’s go for a walk.”

Although he’d presented it as a statement, she recognized the undertones of an order. Instead of refusing, she closed the door behind her and climbed down the two steps. As before, the moment the distance between them disappeared she felt his power and strength, the testosterone rolling off him. If she’d been a mare in heat, she would have turned her back to him and lifted her tail, signaling her readiness to be bred.

Bred. Carrying Cougar Lighthorse’s child?

“Where—where are we going?”

“To where we both belong.”

Chapter Five

“Have you ever wanted anything else?” Cougar asked when he stepped in the large barn with its multitude of stalls. The double doors hung open. Faint light slid in through the opening to touch the stalls on either side of the center space. Every stall was occupied, but only two of the horses acknowledged their presence. The rest, worn down from their long day, couldn’t care less.

“Other than being involved with the ranching life? When I went to college, I thought a lot about my options, but too many entailed spending my days in an office, living in a city.”

He shook his head. “And you need space.”

“I do.”
And the chance to prove I haven’t lost my nerve.
“What about you?”

He hadn’t touched her tonight. Instead of feeling safer and more self-contained, she ached for the brush of skin against skin. Every molecule of her being was tuned in to him, so much so she half believed he could see beyond her clothing to breasts, belly, hips and mostly what waited between her legs. Even after her eyes adjusted to the muted light, she felt isolated from the outside world. There were just them and the horses.

One stomped its hoof, shaking her mind loose of whatever spiderweb it had sunk into and reminding her that she’d asked a question. “It goes without saying that you need to be where you can see the horizon,” she said. Her voice seemed to echo off the weathered wood.

“Because I’m Native American?”

“Because you grew up surrounded by nature.” She touched his forearm. Just like that, her flames were fed. “I think the setting gets in our blood. No matter what people like us do with our lives, we’re not satisfied unless we’re surrounded by what was embedded in us as children.”

“You’re philosophical tonight.”

Either that or something was driving her to lay more of herself before him. Someone might be in the barn, maybe bedded down in a stall with his or her horse, but she didn’t sense the presence of another human. Just him. “It hasn’t been an easy day for me,” she admitted.

“No, it hasn’t.”

She forced her hand back to her side. Maybe she wouldn’t be this aware of him if they hadn’t had sex, but she wouldn’t take bets. Possibly he’d touched her hormones in ways they’d never been touched.

“Is—is that what you wanted to talk about?” she asked. “Why my time was so slow?”

“I don’t need to ask. I know why.”

His words were still echoing around her when he took her hand, lifted it to his mouth and touched his lips to her knuckles. A rolling shiver ran from her fingers up her arm and down until it settled between her legs. Her knees nearly buckled.

“You—you do?”

“I’ve been there.”

His fingers now laced in hers, he lowered their hands so her knuckles brushed his thigh. His pulsing warmth nipped at her.

“Do you recall what announcers say when they introduce the riding events?”

Incapable of concentrating on anything beyond pounding need, she shook her head.

“They tell the bronc riders to check their gear—and for the bull riders to go behind the chutes and puke.”

Suddenly restless, she drew him into the dark. Hay and wood chips crunched underfoot, and the scent of animals and weathered wood grew stronger. The barn closed around them, sheltered them and fed her flames.

“Is that why you no longer compete as a bull rider? Because you’d done enough puking?”

“That’s part of it.”

Of course it was. Even the biggest, strongest cowboy looked like a child next to a ton of Brahma. The bulls were peaceful enough when left alone, and some became so docile they could be led around by a halter. But rodeo Brahmas were bred to buck, to demonstrate in spades that they were powerful and dangerous. The moment a cinch tightened around their gonads, fury drove them to twist and turn, pound the ground and throw back their heads with those awful horns, trying to dislodge the fool clinging to their backs. Only a minority of cowboys stayed on for the endless eight seconds a ride was supposed to last.

And then the real danger began. Whether they’d been thrown or made it to the bell, the riders had to get out of the arena alive. She didn’t know a bull rider who hadn’t had bones broken or muscles torn or flesh bruised—or all three.

“Only part of it?”

“It’s a young man’s sport, Jordan.”

She could point out that some of the best bull riders were in their thirties, but he was right. Age and years of physical punishment caught up with all of them. Instead of playing the odds with his health and life as the ultimate stake, he’d become a stock contractor. Fortunately, the physical demands were less on barrel racers.

“Do you regret your decision?” she asked.

He’d been matching her slow pace, but now he stopped, bringing her to a halt as well. He spun her toward him and wordlessly ordered her to look up at him. He drew her so close that her breasts brushed his chest. Instead of keeping what distance she could between them, she leaned forward until she found his cock.

Deny this
, the bulge seemed to say.
Tell me you don’t want it.

I can’t.

“Regret?” he said. “Sometimes, like now, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“You need to get back on your horse and into the arena tomorrow. And for as many tomorrows as it takes. If you’re going to get your head on straight, you have to face down your demons. But how can I tell you that when I’m not willing to do the same thing?”

“Barrel racing isn’t going to kill me. Bull riding could destroy you.”

“Yeah.” His breath dampened her scalp. “The only thing you have to worry about is Rampage getting loose again.”

Damn but she hated hearing him speak the bull’s name!

“You’re trembling,” he said. “What is it?”

I don’t know! Or if I do, I’m not willing to tell you.

His bulge twitched and started to swell. She’d become a wild animal last night, lost all control and rational thought. It wasn’t going to happen again! It wasn’t.

Propelled by fear of what she’d become last night, she jerked free and spun away. She made it halfway to the open door before she stopped. Because her back was to him, she couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t think he’d come after her. This was her decision, her choice.

Even more upset than she’d been a moment ago, she turned and faced the human in the shadows. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

“Of me?”

“And of me. Of what came over me when we…”

“When we fucked?”

Fucked. Had sex. Screwed.
“Yes.”

“Do you regret it?”

Damn him and his hard questions! Energy pooled in her thighs and sent her back toward him. Every bit of her cried out for his touch.

“Do you?” he repeated.

“I don’t know.” Less than a yard separated them. His body called to her. But not yet. Not until— “Had you decided to seduce me last night? Is that why you came to see me? Because you knew how horny I was?”
And am again.

“The seduction was deliberate, but it had nothing to do with you being horny.”

How dare he speak in riddles! “Then my needing to screw and be screwed was a bonus?”

His hand snaked out, grabbed an elbow and pulled her close. “Don’t talk like that.”

He was right. In the household she’d been raised in, words like
screw
and
fuck
were never spoken. But something had changed her. It had everything to do with the charge coursing through her and the man responsible. “It’s the truth.”

“I know.”

His soft, low, magical whisper ran through her like warm water. She’d known this man most of her life, and yet she didn’t know him at all. She certainly had had no inkling she’d respond like this or that he’d be able to see beneath her layers.

“What do you mean by deliberate?” They were standing so close, his features had blurred.

“The first time I saw you, I sensed your tension,” he said. “Because I’ve been there, I knew what you were going through. I wanted to do what I could to take your mind off it.”

“I appreciate you going out of your way to—”

“Stop it!” He shook her. “My bull nearly killed you. That’s what it all boils down to.”

And he’d decided to have sex with her as a way of making up for it? No. It couldn’t be that. They stood so close that every time one or the other shifted positions, their bodies sparked. Did an electrical current run through him? Whatever it was, she hadn’t had enough of the accompanying heat and energy. Neither did she know how to keep it, or herself, under control.

“We keep going round and round about this, don’t we?” she said. “Look, I didn’t sue you. You’re off the hook.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when he pushed her back but kept his hands on her. “I don’t want to be off the hook. You’re going down a road I know too well. I’d like to help you find your way off it so you can give some thought to the rest of your life.”

“How can you know about my road? I’m making it up as I go along.”
I can’t even think about my future.

His grip relaxed, and he began running his hands up and down her arms. With each stroke, the electricity became more intense. She needed to get away from him, go outside and take a few deep breaths, jump into a cold shower, bury herself in a snowdrift.

Even more, she needed to stay and feed off him.

“You didn’t hear about it?” he asked. “No, I don’t suppose you did since it happened in Texas and, as far as I know, didn’t make the news.”

She closed a hand around her throat. The other rested on his hip. “What did?”

“I got thrown. My hand hung up in my rigging. I couldn’t get loose.”

“Oh no. The clowns—”

“They did their job. But for too damn long, they couldn’t get close enough to free me.”

The image of Cougar being thrown about was almost more than she could handle. He was warmth and life, the epitome of the rugged cowboy. But during those terrifying moments when he and a bull had been one, he’d been at the beast’s mercy. “What happened?”

“They told me a rider got close enough to use a knife on the rigging.”

“They told you? Had you been knocked unconscious?”

“Yeah. Probably by his hooves, although they said I hit the ground several times. The bull also ran me into a fence.”

You could have been killed!
“No! Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t remember. Did you have a concussion?”

“Among other things.”

Growing up, her youngest brother had been a tough kid who wouldn’t admit it if he was bleeding to death or scared out of his mind. She’d seen a lot of cowboys like that, macho men unwilling or unable to admit to any weakness. She respected that quality in Cougar, but this was more than one acquaintance telling another about an accident he’d been in.

“Sit down.” She indicated a tarp-covered bale of hay behind him. He shrugged but obeyed. Then, well aware of the risk, she pushed his knees apart and planted herself between them. Hoping she was giving off a no-nonsense air, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Tell me everything.”