This Kiss (Made In Montana Book 12) (8 page)

She studied the ticket Rachel had given her earlier. Her seat was supposed to be close to the action. She sure hoped it wasn’t in the row of folding chairs. Yes, there was a steel barrier separating spectators from the bucking animals. And yes, she was confident Matt knew what he was doing. But no way in hell was Sophie going to sit that close.

Volunteers from Safe Haven, identified by orange vests, were running around, answering questions, directing people to seats and, in general, looking harried.

Wow, there were a lot of people. Families with kids dressed as little cowboys were just too adorable. Herds of teenage boys crowded the barricaded pens, dividing their attention between the horses and the lists of names printed on the white poster boards hanging on the wall. An older gentleman climbed a metal ladder and, with a fat felt-tipped marker, added another name.
Mayhem.

Horse or bull? Sophie wondered. Then decided she didn’t want to know.

Of course the buckle bunnies had turned out in considerable numbers. The women stood close to the chutes, mostly in pairs, and some of them were really gorgeous. Sophie wished she’d put a bit more effort into her makeup.

When her phone rang, she saw it was Lola and quickly picked up. “Sorry. I meant to call you earlier.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Sophie pressed a finger to her free ear to buffer the noise and walked as far away from the crowd as possible.

“Sounds like you’re at the rodeo,” Lola said.

“I am, but it hasn’t started yet. And unfortunately Ethan rides last.”

“A lot of people show up?”

“I’m guessing over four hundred.”

“Whoa. He’ll get mobbed when it’s over.”

“I know. He’s already been overrun with kids wanting autographs.” She saw Rachel walk in, and the first thing that popped into Sophie’s mind was the barbecue. “Oh, did I mention it might snow?”

Lola responded with silence. And then, “Is that pertinent?”

“No. Not at all.” Sophie gritted her teeth.

“So what’s the plan?”

Luckily an announcement that the rodeo would begin in three minutes bounced off the walls at an ear-shattering volume. The crowd responded proportionately.

“Lola? It’s crazy in here. I can’t hear you very well. I’ll have to call you later.”

The noise level was settling down and Sophie could’ve finished their conversation. Instead she disconnected and turned off her phone.

8

A
FTER
SITTING
THROUGH
three hours of calf roping, team calf roping, steer wrestling, saddle bronc riding and having to listen to the pair next to her, Sophie figured her penance for blowing off Lola was paid in full.

The two middle-aged men had opinions about every damn thing in the whole universe. They certainly were entitled to express themselves. Sophie didn’t have to listen. Now, the tobacco chewing? That was getting to her.

She was mentally rehearsing what she could politely say to get them to keep their tobacco juice to themselves when the announcer mentioned Ethan’s name. She straightened and concentrated on what the commentator was saying. His slight twang wasn’t always easy to understand.

“Think he’ll wear a helmet?”

“Shh.” Sophie scowled at the bearded man next to her. Then she processed what he’d said. “Who?”

The man gave her a long look, then nodded toward the area behind the chutes. “Ethan Styles.”

Sophie panned the faces of three cowboys. “I don’t see him.”

“He’s not riding yet. Danny Young is up next. Then Cody Clark. Weren’t you listening?”

Sophie sucked it up and just smiled. Okay, now she remembered. There were supposed to be three bull riders today.

Danny Young was announced and she leaned forward, watching him secure a protective blue helmet, then lower himself onto the back of a bull already bucking to get out of the chute.

So far all the other cowboys had worn Stetsons or another brand of cowboy hat. But then their events weren’t as dangerous as bull riding. She couldn’t recall seeing a helmet in Ethan’s truck. She knew not all bull riders liked wearing a helmet...

After wrapping a short bull rope around his left hand, the rider gave the nod. The chute gate swung open and the black bull charged out bucking and whirling and twisting. Dirt flew from the animal’s hooves. With his free hand held up high, the rider clung to the rope with his other gloved hand. The crowd shouted and cheered.

A buzzer sounded and more cheering as the crowd leaped to their feet. The rider pulled the rope free and bailed to the right, landing on his feet while two cowboys distracted the bull. As the announcer sang his praises, Danny Young jogged to safety and then pulled off the helmet and grinned at the crowd.

“I bet the kid makes it to the finals next year,” the bearded man said. “He finished the season ranked forty-ninth. Damn good for this being only his second tour.”

“I’d sure like to see how he does on a fiercer bucker,” said his friend with the weathered face.

Sophie turned and stared at him. “Are you saying that bull wasn’t scary as hell?”

The other guy laughed and leaned back. “Hey, Lenny, she’s talking to you.”

“What?”

Sophie sighed. “That bull looked pretty intimidating to me.”

“Is this your first rodeo, honey?” Lenny asked, his craggy features softened by a kind smile.

“No, but...” She breathed in deeply and glanced toward the chute. She wished she could see Ethan. Wearing a helmet. “Bull riding is nerve-racking.”

“Then you might want to sit out the last ride.”

“The last— You mean Ethan Styles,” she said, a sickening wave of dread swelling inside her. “Why?”

“Matt Gunderson’s new to the stock contracting business. But he’s raising some good rodeo bulls. I heard Twister is one mean son of a—” Lenny gave her a sheepish grin, then shifted his gaze to the arena.

She realized the next rider—Cody something or other—was being announced, so she kept quiet and let the two men enjoy the event. Although how they could voluntarily watch a bloodthirsty bull try to pulverize someone, she’d never comprehend.

Yes, she understood some rodeo basics. For instance, the bulls were scored on their performance, just as the riders were. The scores were then combined for a potential of one hundred points. So clearly the more difficult the bull was to ride, the more points the rider received overall. But points didn’t matter here. Ethan had told her so last night. Matt was supposed to be his friend. So why give Ethan a son of a bitch to ride?

No, it hadn’t been Matt who’d made that call. It had been Ethan. She’d bet anything he’d insisted on riding the toughest bull. Stupid, reckless idiot.

She stared down at her aching hands. And only stopped wringing them to drag her damp palms down her jeans. The crowd’s collective gasp made her look up.

The rider had been thrown over the bull’s massive head. He landed face-first in the dirt and then crawled until he could finally stand. When he staggered, it was Matt who jumped into the arena and helped the cowboy to the side. The bull continued to furiously buck, trampling the man’s tan Stetson. Why wasn’t he wearing a helmet?

He lifted a hand to let everyone know he was all right.

The crowd responded with deafening applause. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. Ethan was next.

Please, please, please be wearing a helmet.

“All right, folks, you all know who’s up next... Having finished the season at number two, Ethan Styles is arguably the hottest rider on tour,” the announcer said, which inspired a few catcalls. “Whose agility and athleticism has won him the respect of his fans. And once again a trip to the finals in Las Vegas—”

Applause and cheering nearly drowned the man out. Handmade signs had popped up in the crowd. Some clever, some incredibly corny. One sign read Marry me, Ethan.

“Settle down, folks. It might be another minute or two. Looks like he might be having some trouble with Twister, who I’ve been told is a savage bucker. Like the other two bulls we’ve seen today, Twister belongs to Matt Gunderson. No stranger to you all, but new to the world of raising bulls. He assured me we won’t be disappointed with Twister, says he’s a real killer. I guess we’ll all find out soon enough...”

The announcer continued talking, but Sophie had stopped listening. She rose from her seat, trying to catch a glimpse of Ethan. She could see his sun-streaked hair as the bull rocked him against the metal railing. No helmet. Damn him.

“Miss? You mind sitting down? We can’t see from back here.”

Sophie heard the voice behind her, but not until someone touched her arm did it register the man was speaking to her. With an apology she sank back onto her seat. Maybe it was a blessing that she couldn’t see. Her nerves were already frayed. Why wouldn’t he wear a helmet? It was just plain foolish.

“Styles is nuts,” Lenny said. “I can’t figure out why he’s riding this weekend. With his track record you’d think he’d be holed up somewhere with the door double-locked.”

The bearded man spat into a cup. “That’s what I would do. He gets injured today, he won’t never forgive himself. Sure would be a shame if he missed the finals again.”

“You get a chance to see him ride Bad Company at the season opener?” Lenny asked his friend. “Reminds me of this bull. Thrashing and lunging against the gate like that, he ain’t about to let Styles get comfortable. What was it that happened last year before the finals? Was it his elbow—”

“Please stop saying those things.” Sophie turned to the two men. “Riders are superstitious enough. Ethan doesn’t need to be reminded of what’s happened in the past. So, please...”

Lenny frowned at her. “It ain’t like we’re saying it so he can hear.”

“But you’re still putting it out there in the universe.”

The men glanced at each other and laughed. “Ma’am, you might wanna find another sport that’s easier on your blood pressure,” Lenny said.

Sophie hadn’t been looking for a clear shot of Ethan. But that was what she got between a pair of Stetson-wearing cowboys sitting two rows in front of her. He was still tying his rope.

“What’s he doing?” Lenny mumbled. “He can’t be using a suicide wrap.”

“He’d be a dang fool, since he’s not looking to qualify.”

“A what?” Sophie asked, but the men ignored her. A suicide wrap? Okay, maybe it was better she didn’t know.

Gripping the edge of her seat, she leaned forward, her heart racing. “Damn you, Ethan,” she muttered under her breath, her attention glued to him. “Put on the goddamn helmet.”

“You know Styles personally?” Lenny asked, frowning at her.

“Yes,” she said, swallowing when she saw him give the nod. “I’m his girlfriend.”

* * *

A
FTER
WHAT
FELT
like an hour inside a blender, Ethan heard the buzzer. Another two seconds and he ripped free of the bull rope and jumped off Twister. He managed to land on his feet while a bullfighter lured the bull in the other direction. Pulling off his Stetson, Ethan waved it at the cheering crowd.

Good for Gunderson. He had a winner with Twister. That son of a bitch could buck and change direction with the best of them. When he’d burst out of the chute and cut to the left, Ethan almost let go.

Sophie wasn’t in her seat.

What the hell?

He’d known exactly where she was sitting. He’d spotted her after watching Kenny get an ass-whooping by one of Matt’s broncs.

People were on their feet, still applauding, so Ethan waved again before he exited the arena. Once he made it to the reserved area behind the pens, he stopped to dust off his hat and the front of his shirt. Matt was waiting for him with a mile-wide grin.

Ethan laughed. “You trying to kill me, Gunderson?”

“What did I tell you?”

“I didn’t think the bastard was gonna let me outta the chute.” Ethan wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. “You ride him yet?”

“Nope.” Matt handed him a clean rag. “If Twister didn’t kill me, Rachel would.”

“Smart woman.”

Ethan recognized the irritated voice even before he turned around.

Sophie had slipped behind the fence, ignoring the man who tried to stop her.

“It’s okay,” Matt told the cowboy, and the man backed off.

It didn’t appear Sophie was aware of anything going on around her. She was focused solely on Ethan, and she looked pissed.

She stopped a foot away and glared up at him. “Styles, there is something very wrong with you.”

“Okay.” He grinned and put on his hat. Her cheeks were pink, her dark eyes flashing. He couldn’t imagine what this was about, but he didn’t like that her lower lip had quivered. “Are you gonna tell me why?”

“We’ll talk later,” Matt said, nodding at Sophie as he passed her.

She gave him an apologetic smile. When she met Ethan’s eyes again, she didn’t look angry but afraid. “Why didn’t you wear a helmet?” Her voice was so soft he barely heard her. “I know you don’t owe me an answer,” she said. “I do. But God, Ethan, you’re a smart man. Bull riding is dangerous. And I’m just trying to understand—”

He touched her hand, and she threw her arms around his neck. She’d looked so sad and small standing there he wasn’t sure what to do or say. Except to hold her close until she stopped trembling. He just rubbed her back and waited for her pounding heart to slow.

“I’m sorry if I’m embarrassing you,” she murmured, her face buried against his chest. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

“Hell, you’re not embarrassing me.” He almost made a joke, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. “A beautiful woman cares about whether I wear a helmet or not, and I should be embarrassed?”

Keeping her face down, she bumped him with her knee.

“Ethan?” The soft voice belonged to a Safe Haven volunteer. “Sorry to interrupt, but folks are waiting for autographs.”

Sophie tried to pull away, but he held her tight.

“Tell them it’ll be a few more minutes,” he told the older woman standing at the fence. “Please.”

“Will do.” With a smile she turned and left.

“No, Ethan.” Sophie pushed at his chest. “Go. I’m fine.”

“Twister couldn’t buck me off. You think I can’t hold on to a little thing like you?”

“Oh, brother.” She sniffed. “Watch it. I kickbox,” she said, and slowly lifted her chin. Her eyes were bright, but no tears. “Don’t make those people wait.”

“Why not? They get bored and hit the concessions, that’s more money for Safe Haven.”

Sophie laughed. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

“See how wrong you can be?” He smiled at her mock glare and wondered what had set her off. He doubted it was just about him not wearing a helmet. But he couldn’t get into it now. “How about you come with me?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m fine. Embarrassed as hell,” she said. “Though not fatally. I’m sure I’ll live to embarrass myself another day. So go.” She tugged at his arm. “Good grief, I think your muscles have muscles.”

Ethan caught her chin and tipped her face up so he could look into her eyes. “I usually do wear a helmet. But I left Wyoming in a rush to get here and forgot it.” He brushed a kiss across her mouth. “That’s no excuse. It was dumb to forget something so important.”

Her bottom lip quivered again. Not from fear this time. How was he supposed to go shake hands and sign autographs when all he could think about was tasting every inch of her? He trailed a finger down her throat, then traced the ridge of her collarbone. The satiny texture of her skin drove him nuts. So smooth and soft everywhere he touched. What must the skin of her inner thighs feel like?

“We can pick one up tomorrow,” she whispered, pressing into him and making it damn near impossible for him to think straight.

“Pick what up?”

“A helmet.” Her eyes started to drift closed, but then she widened them. “Oh no. We leave tonight.”

“I’m not going to do that, Sophie.”

“Ethan...”

He kissed her lips, silencing her. And tormenting himself. All he wanted was for them to be someplace far away, alone, without distractions. Someplace where he could explore her body with his hands and mouth. Listen to her soft breathless moans when their kissing got hot and heavy. He wondered what sound she would make when he sank deep inside her.

Her stubborn lips finally yielded, letting him slip his tongue between them.

He jerked a little when her fingers dug into his bum shoulder.

“Can people see us?” she asked, slightly breathless.

“Probably.”

“An awful lot of kids are out there.”

“Yeah.” Ethan straightened and released her. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, taking her hand.