The Bull Rider's Homecoming (2 page)

“I hate being blindsided,” she finally said.

“I get that and I'm sorry.”

“Yeah. Okay...well, ride hard tomorrow.”

“Day after.”

Annie smiled a little. “The girls send hugs.”

“Hugs back,” Grady said.

Annie ended the call and settled back in her chair. What was done was done, so why was it bothering her? Because the guy had stopped by at Grady's urging and she'd run him off the property. Not a very nice thing to do.

She needed to explain. Make amends. And maybe get another look at the guy. He'd had kind of amazing hazel eyes, and while she may not be in the market for a guy, there was no reason she couldn't look.

* * *

T
RACE
'
S
BIGGEST
ADJUSTMENT
after having the surgery to repair the torn ligaments in his shoulder had been adapting to downtime. Never in his life had he held still for so long. Even busted and cracked ribs hadn't kept him from practicing. A good, tight wrap and he'd been ready to go, but the doctor had been quite clear that if Trace didn't allow himself sufficient healing time with this injury, then he was looking at destroying the work the surgeon had done and perhaps putting himself out of competition forever.

Not going to happen, which meant following orders.

Which also meant champing at the bit as he marked time, watched bull-riding technique videos and exercised the parts of his body that he could. He was eating carefully—lots of protein, not much sugar or bread—trying to keep the weight off and the muscle intact as he worked his lower body. Legs were important and he wasn't going to lose the strength in his.

When Trace had agreed to watch Grady's place, he'd figured he could spend the hours when he wasn't concentrating on rehab puttering around the place, doing whatever he was capable of with a bum shoulder. Unfortunately, the ranch was in pristine condition and there were no handyman jobs to do. His only duties were to feed the animals twice a day, water Lex's plants and mow the yard. If ever there was an incentive to heal up and get back on the road, this was it.

Grady had called the night before to apologize for the mix-up with his sister. He'd neglected to tell her that Trace would be checking in, so naturally she'd been startled when he'd shown up at her door, acting as if she should be expecting his arrival. And it wasn't as if he'd come at the best of times. The highlight of the call had been when Lex had taken over the phone and asked if Trace would mind exercising her horses. He had a feeling she knew just how much time he'd have on his hands, and the thought of riding off into the not-too-distant mountains appealed. He could ride bareback, work on his balance and leg strength.

First thing Sunday morning Trace experienced the thrill of trying to mount a sixteen-hand mare bareback without jarring his left shoulder. It was doable...kind of. At least there was no one around to see him climb up onto a fence and ease himself onto the horse's back, just like little kids had to do—although it wasn't unlike mounting in the chute. Yeah. That was it. No shame there.

After settling on the mare's back and doing a few practice circles in the wide driveway to make certain that she and he were communicating properly, he started down the road toward the mountains. The dogs complained bitterly about being left behind, but he wasn't going to risk taking Lex's dogs out on the road, no matter how lightly traveled it appeared to be. Riding felt good—no, it felt great—after weeks of being cooped up, and after a good two hours exploring the foothills, he finally headed back, hungry and thirsty. He hadn't expected to explore for so long, but there was no reason for him to hurry back to the lonely ranch.

The ranch, however, wasn't as lonely as he'd left it. He spotted a small white car parked in front of the house when he rode into the driveway and immediately recognized the little girls poking their fingers through the fence at the dogs, who were wiggling ecstatically. Grady's sister and nieces had come to call. Annie was on the way back to her car from the front door when she shaded her eyes against the sun and spotted him.

“Hey!” one of the girls yelled as he rode closer. “That's
my
horse!”

“Katie,” her mother warned, and although the girl's mouth clamped shut, she didn't look happy. Trace dismounted stiffly several yards away, sliding down the horse's side carefully, so as not to jar his stiff shoulder too badly, then led the mare up to the car where the girls started petting her shoulder and neck.

“Can I please have Daphne's reins?” one of the girls asked. Trace looked at Grady's sister. She gave a small nod and he handed the reins over.

“We'll get her a drink,” the other twin announced.

Trace watched them lead the mare toward the trough then turned back to find Annie regarding him. Yesterday, with wet hair slicked back from her forehead, she'd been all serious blue eyes and unsmiling lips. Today the long brown hair spilling in waves around her shoulders softened the angles of her heart-shaped face and accentuated the fullness of her mouth, the soft blue of her eyes—but her expression was just as serious as it had been while dealing with a flood and a stranger at the door. Somehow those full lips of hers didn't look right pressed into a flat line.

“Look, I'm sorry for being short with you when you came by the house. I didn't know—”

“It's all right.” The naturally husky notes of her voice strummed along his nerves in a pleasant sort of way.

“I was rude.”

“Understandable, given the circumstances.”

Annie didn't reply. She shifted her weight and looked past him to where her girls were watering the mare, presenting him with her delicate profile. Trace rarely had a problem filling in gaps in conversation, but as she brought her gaze back to his, he found himself at a loss. She was a small thing, serious, yet sexy in a girl next door sort of way...and being near her stirred something deep inside of him. Something he didn't particularly want stirred.

“I appreciate your understanding,” she said coolly.

“Not a problem.”

No problem at all, although he couldn't help but wonder if being attracted to Grady Owen's sister might introduce a complication or two into his life.

Chapter Two

Trace Delaney was
tall for a bull rider. And since Annie was short, she had to look up at him. The guy had great cheekbones, a really nice mouth and, unlike her brother, no visible scars. Deep hazel eyes, more green than brown, studied her solemnly from beneath slightly frowning dark eyebrows, and she realized that she was staring. She pulled her gaze away and a few awkward beats of silence passed. Neither of them seemed able to come up with anything to say, but she refused to shift uncomfortably.

“By the way,” she said, breaking the silence. “I'm Annie Owen. Those are my daughters. Kristen in red and Katie in blue.”

“Cute kids.” At least he didn't say they took after her, as many people did, because they didn't. They looked like their blond-haired, green-eyed father who was long gone. Not that that bothered Annie anymore. She was grateful to be raising her girls alone.

“Thank you.” She dove into the reason she'd come. “Obviously there was a miscommunication between Grady and me, and I wanted to stop by to apologize for chasing you off my porch.”

Trace smiled and Annie fought to keep from catching her breath. Holy cow.

“He and I talked. It's fine. Did everything turn out all right last night?”

“After a lot of mopping.”

“What about repairs? Do you have someone handling those?”

She looked at him in surprise. “I went to the hardware store for a hose and a new wrench.” Because she couldn't find hers and had a feeling it had been involved in some project the twins had cooked up. “We're on our way home now.”

“Ah.” Again the silence settled in and Annie was about to do them both a favor and call the girls so that they could leave, when Katie and Kristen headed back toward them from the trough, pulling the ever-patient mare behind them.

“She drank a lot,” Katie announced, still holding tightly to the reins.

“Warm morning,” Trace agreed. “And we went a long way.”

Bareback. Annie couldn't help but wonder if his butt was sore. Hers would be. How long had it been since she'd ridden?

Katie tilted her head up. “Can I come and ride Daphne next weekend?”

“Katie!” Annie flashed Trace a quick glance of apology, catching the deer-in-headlights look that crossed his face. He might have been willing to check in with her, but it was blatantly obvious that he didn't want his space invaded. Fine, because she didn't want to invade it. Not when he made her feel so crazy aware of him. Like riding, when was the last time
that
had happened to her?

“We'll wait until Lex comes home to ride,” Annie said in her mom voice.

Katie drew in a breath, as if to argue, but Annie cocked an eyebrow and she let out the breath in a whoosh. “All right,” she mumbled. She and Kristen turned as one and headed for the car.

“Sorry about that,” Annie said.

Trace gave her a tight smile in return. “It probably would be best if they waited for Lex.”

Annie gave a nod, even though a small, contrary part of her wanted to say,
Hey, it isn't like you have to be around while they ride.

“Agreed.” The car door opened and closed behind her. “I need to go. Lots of chores ahead of me. Give a shout if you need anything.”

He wouldn't. She knew that as certainly as she knew that she was going to spend the drive home explaining why the twins had to wait for Lex to get home before riding the horses they'd ridden regularly for the past several months.

Because that was the way it was. End of story.

* * *

WELL, THAT HAD
been awkward.

He shook his head as Annie turned her car onto the county road, and then led the mare toward the pasture. Faking small talk was usually easy, but facing off with Annie had triggered the discomfort he'd once felt around people he didn't know. A discomfort he'd worked a long time to overcome.

He'd grown up shy and his mom had been something of a recluse until she passed away just after he'd turned fourteen. They'd moved from apartment to apartment, trailer house to trailer house, looking for ever-lower rent as the medical bills stacked up. They'd stayed in the Reno-Carson City area, but he'd changed schools every year or two and found it was easier to simply keep to himself. That way people didn't ask questions, expect to be invited over. Things like that.

When cancer had finally claimed his mom, he'd been sent to live with his father, who hadn't wanted him in the first place. The last thing he'd wanted was the son who was a reminder of his brief relationship with a Reno cocktail waitress. He'd given Trace food and shelter, but his discomfort with the situation had been palpable, and Trace had found himself feeling even more alone than he had when he'd been in Reno. At least there he'd had his mom and a few acquaintances. That first summer in Oregon, he'd had no one—or at least he hadn't until Ernest McClure had found him exploring on his property and had insisted that he come home and eat lunch with him and his wife, Josie, so that they could get to know “the new neighbor.”

Trace had gone, more because he'd been caught trespassing than because he wanted to get to know anyone. Going with Ernest, however, had been the best accidental move of his life. In Ernest and Josie, he'd found pseudograndparents. Mentors. People who believed in his basic good—something he'd kind of wondered about.

Thanks to their gentle influence—which later he discovered was more like velvet-covered steel—Trace started actively working to make something of himself, his life. He'd joined the school rodeo team, and made an effort to connect with other kids. It'd been painful at first, but as he made more friends, he gained confidence, and by the time he'd graduated, he'd learned to play the social game well. He may never have connected with his dad, but he'd done all right. And now he could effect easy conversation with the best of them...except with Annie Owen.

He had no idea what was going on there.

Trace gave a small snort as he closed the tack-room door and pushed the past out of his head. He didn't need to worry about Annie or connecting because he probably wasn't going to see her again. The future was his biggest concern.

The future and the long day on the ranch that stretched out before him.

* * *

E
VEN
THOUGH
A
NNIE
had worked at Annie Get Your Gun for over a year, she still felt like smiling when she walked through the door to start her day. It was a total accident that she shared a name with the store, but she liked being partnered up with Annie Oakley, who was the true namesake.

There was something about the upscale yet funky Western boutique housed on the ground floor of a historic brick building that was both welcoming and inspiring. If she could afford it, she would happily decorate her entire house with the items sold at the boutique, but that wouldn't be happening anytime in the near future. Her girls were growing like weeds and it seemed like she was spending her extra cash on new shoes or coats every couple of months. But a person needed a little pick-me-up every now and again, so she settled for buying the occasional small piece of bric-a-brac on payday and being thankful that she had a full-time job with benefits.

In fact, it still amazed her that Danielle had offered her the job in the first place, since she and Grady had once been engaged and it hadn't ended well. But Danielle was now married to a great guy, and Grady was engaged to Lex, a partner in the business. A convoluted state of affairs, but the end product was that Danielle and Grady were both blissfully happy and Annie had a job she loved.

“You're here early,” Danielle said as she walked into the back room carrying a vase of wilted roses.

“The girls managed to get ready for school on time. I've worked up an incentive plan.”

“Clever mom.” Danielle gave her kind of a goofy smile.

“What?”

She bit her lip then blurted, “I'm pregnant! I'm going to be a mom, too!”

Annie gasped then reached out to hug Danielle, who was almost bouncing up and down with excitement. “When?”

“January.”

“And no morning sickness?” Danielle shook her head. “Lucky you,” Annie murmured. “I think I was sick for five months.”

“Have I mentioned that I'm excited?” Danielle said. “I've been looking at Western baby stuff. A lot of it. You may have to rein me in so the store doesn't become Annie Get Your Baby Gear.”

Annie laughed. “I'll do my best, but baby gear mania is like a sickness. Everything is so cute.”

“I know.” Danielle opened the cooler and took out the bouquet of flowers stored inside and replaced the roses in the vase. She jerked her head toward the boutique. “I have more news.”

Annie followed, waiting until Danielle had placed the flowers on the end of the tall counter where they transacted business. She nodded at the locked door on the west side of the room. “I negotiated with Great Granny and because they're having trouble renting that little space after the Book Nook closed, she's letting me have it for a song. I'm making a quilt room.” She walked over to the door and turned the old-fashioned key resting in the lock then pulled it open. The Book Nook had been vacant for almost as long as Annie had worked for the store, and the room was both musty and dusty.

Danielle stood for a moment, studying the space. “Definitely some work ahead of us.” She glanced over at Annie. “If there is an us. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind putting in some overtime and helping me clean and paint this space. The cleaning we can do when we have downtime during the day, but the painting—I don't want fumes, so I figured that could be done during the evening. Thus, the overtime.”

“I'd just do it,” Annie said.

“I don't want you—”

“You can buy me a drink sometime. After...” She patted her abdomen.

“If you're sure,” Danielle said, stepping farther into the room.

“Totally sure.” Annie crossed over to the windows, which had brown paper covering them. “It'll be nice to get this paper down.”

“It was never meant to be up for so long,” Danielle agreed. “And it'll be nice not being next to a vacant space.” She turned in a circle. “I'm going to hang the best quilts, put racks over there and see if I can score some dressers to display smaller items.”

“I've been trying to make smaller items,” Annie said. “I don't seem to have the knack.” But she wished she did. Lex made metal jewelry for the store, and Kelly, who'd worked there before Annie, still brought in her pottery pieces. Annie had nothing to contribute.

“You know, I'm fine with you simply being a great associate.”

Annie gave a soft snort. “I want a talent like everyone else.”

“Maybe you're really good with interior paint,” Danielle said with a wry smile.

“I do sling a mean brush.” She did. The house she'd grown up in had been grim when she'd moved back home after Wes had left her. She and Grady had rented it out while she'd been in college and the renters hadn't been all that careful with the place. It'd taken Annie a long time to brighten the house with paint and small touches, making headway whenever her budget allowed.

“I was thinking Friday evening to paint? You can bring the girls.”

Paint and her twins were usually an explosive combination. Annie lifted an eyebrow, thinking that Danielle had a learning curve ahead of her. “That sounds great and since its Friday, I think that would be a good night for the twins to spend the night with friends.”

* * *

T
HE
DAYS
PASSED
SLOWLY
. Trace saddled up every day, exercising each mare in turn and even giving the cranky old gelding, Snuff, a go. After the daily ride, he worked out as best he could, read, watched videos and wished that Lex had a less meticulously cared for ranch. A guy named Hennessey had a practice pen nearby and Trace thought he might check it out, but knowing himself as he did, he didn't want to be tempted to hurry things along. The longer he healed, the better his chances of having a winning season the next year—and the better his chances of getting the best of Brick and funding that season. Or at least part of it.

The problem, as he saw it, was that the only way to be a successful bull rider was to live and breathe the sport. Unfortunately, that made downtime difficult. Trace had nothing to fill the hours once he'd gone through all his exercises and rehab, mental and physical, and fed the animals. The one positive to the ranch was that for the first time in forever, he had a real kitchen to work in—one where his stepmother wouldn't instantly kick him out, anyway—and within a matter of days his simple meals became more elaborate.

Being at the stove reminded him of being with his mom. As she'd grown more ill, he'd taken over the cooking, following her instructions as she sat at the table and watched, sometimes with her head resting on her arms. She hadn't had much of an appetite by that point, but she'd taught him to make hearty food that would feed a growing kid. She'd also taught him how to stretch ingredients, shop sales, use coupons and maintain a household budget.

Trace's mouth tightened as he put a cast-iron pan on to heat. He missed his mom. Sixteen years and the ache was still there. He'd lost his father not that long ago, but mostly he felt resentment when he thought of his dad. It wouldn't have killed the guy to open up a little—at least tell him he had a serious heart problem. But no. He didn't find that out until the heart problem had put his dad in the ground.

Lex had a nicely stocked kitchen and Trace started a list of the things he needed to replace as he used them. She also had a decent collection of cookbooks, and it was while he was thumbing through one, looking for inspiration, that he stumbled upon the Gavin chamber of commerce pamphlet and discovered that he knew a local bar owner. Gus Hawkins was also from northern Nevada, and he and Trace had competed in a lot of the same rodeos in high school and college.