“This is a gentleman’s game,” Jason said, taking aim. “There’s nothing at stake but pride on this shot.” He threw his beanbag. It went in. His arms shot up as if he’d made a touchdown. “Winner! Winner. Winner. Winner.” He poked Kevin’s arms with every word.
“Jason, have you seen our new bull?” Iggy was turning burgers. He pointed toward the rear of their building. “He came in this morning. Unhappy gentleman. Just your type.”
“You bought a new bull?” A frown flickered across Jason’s face, one mirrored on Ken’s features. “I mean, yay. We bought a new bull.” He walked toward the barn.
“It’d be quite a treat for our friends if you rode him.” Iggy poked a fork at the burgers while he prodded Jason with words.
“No,” Darcy said, although not in the shout she wanted to.
Jason glanced back at her, breaking his stride.
Or rather, his stride was broken by a twinge.
* * *
“How do I look, Mims?” Bitsy fiddled with her blouse at the shoulders, but instead of pads, her fingers bunched a thin layer of polyester. Panic sent shock waves to her knees. She needed those shoulder pads like she needed her lash-extending mascara.
“For the fifth time, you look lovely.” Mims took Bitsy’s hands. “Rupert’s been looking at you since he arrived. Be human. Grab a diet cola and go make a pass at him.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. A woman my age—”
“A woman your age has heard every line in the book. Go toss one at him.” Mims grabbed a can from a cooler and pressed it into Bitsy’s hands. “Make us widows proud.”
“Right.” Bitsy clung to the wet, drippy can. “Twitch or no twitch, I can do this.”
Mims turned Bitsy so that she faced Rupert. He laughed as Edith wound up her arm and released a beanbag that thwacked against a tree several feet past the cornhole target. Pushing Bitsy’s shoulders, Mims propelled her forward.
Rupert laughed again. The sound filled Bitsy’s chest with all kinds of warm feelings.
“I can’t do it.” Bitsy dug in her black patent leather flats. “I can be happy the way things are.”
“Give the twitch a try.” Mims was an outdoorswoman. She was stronger than Bitsy, braver than Bitsy, more willing to pull the trigger when a target came into her sights. Mims didn’t falter. Step-by-step they moved closer to total mortification. “Chin up, smile on, bazingas forward.”
Rupert turned toward them, his movements slowing as Duran Duran belted out the sultry chorus in her head from “Save a Prayer.”
Oh, there was trouble. Bitsy was moving toward it. Mims didn’t have to push any longer. Bitsy came to a stop next to Rupert, who was practically glowing, his dark hair tousled in the breeze, his shoulders filling out his teal polo shirt.
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever owned a white summer suit,” she said, still stuck in an eighties moment. “The kind you wear when you walk barefoot on a tropical beach.”
Rupert’s smile broadened. “Nope.”
There was a screeching beat of silence.
“Oh.” That almost sounded like a wail. Bitsy’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I don’t know what comes over me sometimes.” Just the times when he was near. “I just blurt out whatever thought comes in my head.” More like Edith than she cared to admit. “Can we blame it on low blood sugar?”
“We can.” He took her elbow and guided her back to the food tables. “Can I buy you a hot dog for lunch?”
“You’d do that?” She tried laughing. It was a joke, after all. Everything at the picnic was free.
“I’m a little surprised at what I’m willing to do for you, Bitsy.” He reached the main table and handed her a paper plate.
Something banged the barn at the far corner, and then a big bull trotted out into a small enclosure.
“Cowboys and their toys.” Rupert’s tone was critical as his gaze swung in the direction of Darcy joining Jason near the enclosure holding the bull.
“I’d say Jason can handle that.” Bitsy leaned a bit closer, emboldened by the need to protect Darcy. “And I don’t mean he can handle the bull.”
Rupert’s expression was haughty. “Don’t ask me to approve of her.”
Bitsy selected some strawberries. “I don’t think Darcy needs your approval when it comes to who makes her happy. But your support would make her job easier.”
“I’m sorry.” Rupert set his empty plate back on the stack. “May I speak honestly?”
“Always.”
“I’m getting mixed messages from you.” Rupert shook his head, a slight smile touching his lips. “Or maybe I’m the one sending out dual signals.”
The temperature rose in Bitsy’s cheeks again, and she was afraid this time it spread across her chest. She’d never been a graceful blusher, but she refused to let a little thing like humiliation keep her from protecting those she cared for, which now included both Darcy and Rupert.
“It’s all right.” Bitsy rubbed his arm consolingly. It was a nicely muscled arm and…She swallowed, forcing her thoughts back on track. “I’m in the uncomfortable position of not knowing what I should be doing. Am I supposed to attempt to mend a rift between George’s family and mine? Am I supposed to watch out for a young widow who I adore and admire?” She glanced around before lowering her voice and continuing, “Or am I supposed to look at a handsome, younger man and think I have a chance at—”
“Hey, Jason!” Iggy called. “Let’s ride that bull!”
The crowd around the cornhole game turned and moved as one, rushing to the tables nearest the fence, jockeying for a position at the show.
“What were you going to say?” Rupert stroked Bitsy’s shoulder.
And she wasn’t even wearing shoulder pads!
When Bitsy didn’t answer right away, Rupert stared down his nose at her like the chilly man at George’s Christmas parties. It didn’t matter what she’d been about to say. He was up and she was down on things that mattered.
“Nothing but a twitch.” Bitsy took her plate of strawberries and joined the crowd at the fence, telling herself she’d been saved tremendous embarrassment.
When in reality, she’d probably suffered through the worst.
* * *
“Jason, what are you doing?” Darcy dogged his steps through the barn to the supply room. “Are you trying to prove a point?”
Adrenaline poured through Jason’s veins as he anticipated riding that bull. They had a small corral with a bull chute in back for just these moments. Iggy had been right. This one was an ornery beast, unhappy with his new digs. The bull would be pissed at anybody who tried to ride him. Forget that Iggy had purchased him without consulting Jason. This was like receiving an unexpected gift on Christmas morning.
“I love riding bulls, Darcy. You know it and I know it.” Jason dug in the plastic bin where he kept his bull riding ropes. All the pent-up frustration over his situation with Darcy, all the weighty decisions that needed to be made about his business, including Ken’s management input, they all fueled the adrenaline rushing through his veins.
“What about your leg?” Darcy hugged her arms around her waist, lingering by the door, not that there was much room for her to stand next to him. The supply room was something of a mess. Less was stacked on the shelves than was stacked on the floor.
“Doc Janney said my leg is fine. Riding bulls makes me feel alive, and look what landed in my lap. A bull in need of blowing off some steam.” Same as Jason.
“Something’s going to land, Jason. And it’s going to be you.” Darcy predicted. “Don’t do this.”
He chuckled. “If a bull gets the better of me, that makes me feel like a man too.”
“You sound like a teenager about to do something really stupid.” She poked around a nearby pile of stuff. “At least tell me you have a vest and a helmet somewhere.”
“Somewhere…” He wasn’t sure where. He dug in the next bin.
“Are you the scheduled entertainment?” Ken appeared in
the doorway, a slight frown on his face. “I don’t recall approving this.”
“Always with the jokes.” The adrenaline needed an outlet. Jason’s hands were beginning to tremble like a rookie rider’s. “You’re not the boss of me, Ken.”
“Jason and I are going to ride that bull,” Darcy said in a loud voice that dared anyone to contradict her.
For once Ken was caught flat-footed. He stared at Jason, speechless.
“That’s not funny, honey.” Jason found the padded vest and helmet in a nearby bin. “You can barely ride a horse, much less a bull.” Not to mention she was wearing a skirt today.
“I’m not joking.” Darcy had that determined look in her eyes and a firm set to her mouth. “I’ve ridden those mechanical bulls before.” She didn’t admit she’d only ridden on the low setting. “I’ll go first.”
Jason sent a pleading look Ken’s way.
“I’ve always liked you, Darcy,” Ken said, returning to form. “You always have Jason’s best interests at heart.”
“Likewise,” Darcy said, siding with Ken.
“Okay,” Jason said slowly, an idea taking shape.
That’s an asinine idea, George said, having read his mind.
“I could choose not to ride today on one condition.” He captured Darcy’s gaze.
She raised her brows.
“You have to agree to wear my ring.”
“This is not the way to ask a woman to commit to you,” Ken said, as if Darcy couldn’t hear him. “How about we all step outside and have a beer?”
Darcy pushed Ken out of the room and closed the door. She turned, a furrow in her brow. “I can’t.”
“For seven months?” Jason put his hands on his hips.
Darcy shook her head. “It’s not fair to you. I think we should take a break, at least until our legal issues are straightened out.”
The air left Jason’s lungs in a whoosh, as if he’d just been thrown. “You don’t mean that.”
She looked pained. “You’re not thinking this through. You’re famous, and I’m a felon. I could go to jail for eighteen months for bigamy. I don’t care how well you ride bulls or how well Ken writes a statement about what happened, your name will be mud if word gets out. And if I wear your ring, word will get out. I’m trying to protect you.”
“By pushing me away?” Jason dropped his rope, his vest, his helmet. He had one last card to play. “Honey, I have something to tell you. You may not like it at first.”
She brushed a hand through her hair and growled in frustration. “You sound like you’re about to tell me there’s been a miracle and you’re pregnant. Why am I the husband in this relationship?”
Jason didn’t laugh. He picked his way to her side. “Hear me out.”
“No.” Darcy took a step back. “I lied to you.”
The bottom dropped out of Jason’s world. He stopped in his tracks. “About George?”
“No.” Darcy shook her head. “When I was a kid, I told you I wasn’t like my family. That was a lie.” Her brow furrowed. “I stole. I stole what my family told me to. Mostly food. Before Eddie went to jail, he was teaching me how to hot-wire a car. The reason I was in that detention center was because I was leading that heifer into the trailer for my dad so he could catch another.”
“I don’t care.” Jason was so relieved she hadn’t confessed her love of George that he swayed back on his heels so he wouldn’t fall to his knees. “They were your family. They expected you to do those things. Once they were gone, you were a fine, upstanding citizen.”
“I was. When I was with you. When I was with you, any crime, no matter how small, seemed wrong.” Tears filled her eyes, but when he would have closed the distance between them, she held a hand out to keep him away. “But then last year, as soon as that woman kissed you, George proposed. And I knew on some level it was wrong to agree, even if I loved him in my own way and owed him the success I’d achieved. And then when I signed the marriage certificate, it was like my family was in my head, telling me I should change everything about my appearance and my life the way my mother would have, had my marriage been a scam.”
“You were trying to shelter yourself and George. I refuse to believe your mother was egging you on.”
Voices in heads shouldn’t be discounted, George said.
Jason bit his lip to keep from shouting at George. But really, George was to blame, and Jason said so.
Darcy shook her head. “He was paranoid about his sons taking over his seat. But he remembered every detail of the law. I molded myself to my image of Mrs. George Harper. Don’t blame George for that.”
“Of course I’m going to blame George. He’s been the voice in your head since he died.” Working double duty in mine.
“I don’t hear him anymore. I’m alone.” Her voice cracked on that last word. “Or I will be as soon as you leave for the rodeo. And then heaven only knows what trouble I’ll get into.”
Jason clenched his jaw. “I love you. And…” Dare he say it? What choice did he have? “And there’s a slight possibility that we may not be married. In which case, you wouldn’t be a felon.” There. Problem solved.
Darcy’s jaw dropped.
Jason quickly explained about the lack of a paper license. “Ken’s going to get to the bottom of this on Monday. So you see, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“You’ve known this since yesterday? You’ve known and you didn’t tell me? Just like you didn’t tell me about your leg? Is this why you’ve been moody?”
“No.” He scowled. “Not entirely.” George had goaded him into a contest of size and ownership.
Darcy opened the door and backed into Ken, who quickly sidled out of her way. “And here I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. That’s it. We’re through.”
Ken stood on the other side of the door, clearly having heard everything. The door wasn’t that thick. “It’s time to take a breath and regroup.” He stood in Jason’s way.
“Ken…” Jason swore as Darcy disappeared through the outer door. He was angry and frustrated and trapped. “Maybe taking a beat is how you deal with trouble in your world but that’s not how I deal with it in mine.”
Ken crossed his arms.
“Get out of my way!” Jason shouted, grabbing a pair of spurs. “I’m riding that bull.”
* * *
Pennywhistle had never been ridden.
According to his breeding papers, that was the ornery beast’s name. Pennywhistle.
You’d think with that moniker he’d have been a bit better trained. But no. It was a chore to get Pennywhistle into the chute. He kept charging Jason.
Burgers were served. Beer was consumed. Just not by Jason.
Anger refused to let him give up. Darcy thought she wasn’t good enough for him. Darcy, who’d been manipulated by George.
Don’t suck me into this. George was sounding decidedly chipper.
Iggy helped Jason put the strap and rope around the bull’s chest. “He’s raw, isn’t he?” Iggy sounded positively gleeful.
“He’ll do, Iggy.” Jason wasn’t giddy. He was grim. The argument he’d had with Darcy lingered at the back of his throat. He didn’t want to admit he’d been wrong, but that was the impression he had.
Pennywhistle was chuffing louder than a freight train. He was one mean-spirited bull. His anger should have pleased Jason. It didn’t.
Jason’s leg twinged as he climbed the chute rails, nearly sending him tumbling backward. It should have shaken some sense into him. It didn’t. Jason was more determined than ever to prove to himself that nothing could stop him from bending life to his will. All he needed was a strong grip and the determination not to let go.
He balanced on the top rung, checking his vest and helmet, tightening his gloves. The guests were cheering him on. Everyone except Ken and his mother. They stood apart from the revelers. Darcy was nowhere to be seen.
This should have been Jason’s moment. Hometown rodeo star proves his skill on a bull two-
thirds the size of the monsters he normally rides on the circuit.
It’s okay to back out, George said. Doesn’t mean you’re any less a man.
But it meant exactly that to Jason. He’d never backed down from a challenge or a dare in his life.
“Almost ready.” He lowered himself onto the bull, who protested by bucking, but only half-heartedly, since there wasn’t much space to move in the chute. Jason tightened his grip on the rope. “Hit it.”
Iggy released the gate.
The bull leaped sideways. Jason hung on.
The bull bucked. Jason stayed on.
The bull spun. Jason’s nerve shot fire through his thigh. He lost his leg position and flew through the air and landed in the dirt.
Iggy distracted the bull while Jason dragged himself to the fence. His right leg was burning with pain. Only pride kept him from dragging his leg behind him. Somehow he managed to climb stiffly up the rails and sit on top. He was sweating just as heavily as if he’d lasted the full eight seconds.
The crowd receded, kindly giving Jason some space to reclaim whatever dignity he had left.
You’ll find that dignity shelved next to maturity, George muttered.
The bull trotted past, tossing his head as if he’d like a second go-round.
Ken hung his arms over the top rail. “I think we need a professional consult.”
“Make the appointment. I’ll go see your orthopedic specialist.”
“You need that too.” Ken glanced up at him. “When I said professional, I meant relationship professionals.”
Criminy. “You meant—”
“The Widows Club.”
Chapter Twenty
Betrayed.
It stole Darcy’s appetite.
After getting a ride home from Lola, Darcy had packed Jason’s duffel and left it out by the locked gate, the security code to which she’d changed.
Stogey had sat down next to Jason’s duffel while she walked away, his loyalties in question. She’d had to pick him up and carry him to the house.
This morning, the duffel was gone.
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