by Tessa Layne
"I'm more interested in learning the truth," she corrected, chest heating. How had she let him seduce her with all his talk of liking his whiskey neat? "I don't sleep with liars." Her voice rose. "Been there, done that, and it's never gonna happen again." She pulled on the door handle and shoved it so hard, she nearly fell out. "So you go ride your bulls in your fancy boots, and I'll be watching, but not for the reasons you think. And as soon as I figure out what your story really is, I'll make sure everyone knows it."
"Cecilia, wait-"
She pushed off the seat and jumped off, landing with a thunk. A white-hot flash of pain exploded up her legs, and it was all she could do to not cry out. But she would not give him the satisfaction, no sirree. As quickly as she could, without further irritating her tender feet, she made her way to the arena, climbing up to the top of the only set of bleachers to join Izzie, her sister Catalina, and Jeanine. Three pairs of eyes turned to her, then widened. She flashed them a smile that felt far from genuine. "Hi, guys. Everything okay?"
"You tell us," Izzie said, eyebrows at her hairline.
"What in the heck happened to you?" Jeanine asked. "You look... you look,"
"Corcodillus singula sexus," Catalina supplied, pushing her thick glasses further up her nose and peering up at her. "Lizard sex."
"What?" Cecilia gaped at Catalina.
Jeanine bounced in her seat, clapping her hands. "Ohmygod, you did it, didn't you? You rode Trace Walker like a bronco."
Heat raced up her face. "Absolutely not," she sputtered.
"Don't you dare try to deny it," Izzie declared. "Cat and I saw you two sucking face on 20."
"Wait, how did I miss that?" Jeanine asked. "I drove down 20, too. I didn't see anything," she said with a pout.
"And look at you now," Izzie pointed out. "You're flushed and your eyes are wild. I haven't seen you look like this, well... ever."
"Lookie, lookie, lookie," Jeanine squealed loud enough for the guys on the other side of the arena to hear, and pointing at Trace. "Look."
Cecilia glanced over her shoulder and met the full force of Trace's heated stare. There was so much to unpack in the second their gazes collided. Heat. Anger. But it was the hurt that surprised her. Why should his feelings be hurt? He was the one hiding things.
"He's looking right at you, CiCi. He's devouring you with his eyes."
"That is pretty hot," agreed Izzie.
"Oh hush," Cecilia snapped, turning away. "Nothing happened. And more importantly, nothing is going to happen."
"Ha," she tossed back with a shake of her head. "So that wasn't you Izzie and Cat saw with Trace? Weston told me he caught you guys practically kissing in Dottie's parking lot yesterday morning."
Izzie covered her mouth with both hands, eyes twinkling as she bent in uncontrollable laughter. "I think you've met your match CiCi," she said between spasms. "I don't think I've ever seen you so flustered. I'm calling it right here, right now. You'll be saying I Do before Christmas."
Cecilia snorted. "Ha. Ha. You guys think you're so funny." She lowered her voice, eyes darting between her two best friends. "When are you going to tell Jaxon you're in love with him, huh, Iz? And what about you?" She arched a brow in Jeanine's direction. "You and Weston have been doing this dance, for how long now? Two years? When are you going to ride that horse into the barn?"
"Okay fine, we see your point," Izzie said, blushing furiously. "But don't you think one of us should be lucky in love? You've had more than your fair share of heartache, CiCi. Why not allow yourself a little happiness?"
"I won't deny there's chemistry. But something's off. He's hiding something, and whatever it is, Weston knows about it." She stared hard at Jeanine. Did she know something, too?
Jeanine looked momentarily confused. "I don't think so. Weston made some comment yesterday about his license being expired, and I know Trace is one of the volunteers this season at Resolution Ranch. I really think he's just a hot dude from California looking for a change of pace. I mean, why not? Last week there was a team of businessmen from Kansas City out here learning to ride bulls and broncs. A few years ago everyone wanted boot camps. Now they want rodeo riding."
"But this rodeo riding school isn't cheap," Cecilia pointed out.
"How do you know? Did you look it up?"
Izzie pounced. "You've been Googling him, haven't you? CiCi's got a crush," she sing-songed.
"Pfft." She shook her head. "I'm just trying to put the pieces together, that's all. And unfortunately, Trace Walker doesn't seem to be on any social media."
"Not everyone is, CiCi," Jeanine pointed out. "For lots of reasons."
"I think the only pieces you need to put together are that A - Trace Walker is a fine, fine example of homo sapiens. Wouldn't you agree, Cat?" Izzie looked to her sister for confirmation.
"Pardon?" Cat asked, looking up from her notebook and pushing her glasses up her nose. "Who's hot?"
"Umm, Trace Walker?" Izzie gave her sister an exasperated look. "Get your nose out of your research, sis. We're here to ogle the scenery." Izzie pointed at the men standing on the far side of the arena before she turned back to Cecilia. "And B - Trace Walker is very, very into you, and C..." Izzie rubbed her hands together with way too much glee. "You will be letting down the entire female race if you don't take advantage of that god-given perfection in a pair of jeans."
Cecilia couldn't help but smile.
Jeanine cleared her throat. "I'll just add in my two cents if you don't mind."
"Oh, I mind," Cecilia answered with a wry smile. "But go ahead."
"I've never seen you back down from anything, CiCi. Don't start now. Sit down, and let's watch some cowboys ride." She patted the empty space next to her.
Cecilia had to admit watching them was more fun than she'd anticipated. Jaxon, of course, dominated. Yeah, the guys were all practicing, but Jaxon made it look so easy. And seeing Izzie so excited brought back memories from when they were all teenagers. How many women her age could still slip into an easy friendship with the girls who'd known her best once upon a time? She stuck her fingers in her mouth and let out a huge whistle when Jaxon burst out of the chute on a practice bull named Django.
And when Trace climbed over the rails, her heart beat a little bit faster. She bit her lip, gripping the edge of the bleachers as Jaxon and Tony helped him get adjusted. From where they were it was hard to see exactly what was going on. But when his head snapped up and his eyes found hers, everything stilled. Until Jeanine started clapping and hollering "WooHOO, Trace. You ride that bull. Show'm who's boss."
Trace flashed her a smile that went straight to her core, and she couldn't help but smile back. He gave the signal and Izzie's brother Robbie pulled open the gate. A bull named Peanut shot out with a twist, landing, bucking, and twisting again. Cecilia leaped to her feet, heart in her throat as Trace moved with the bull, body contorting and shifting, but never losing balance. When the buzzer sounded, Trace let go, landed and rolled, jumping up with a yell and a fist-pump. Her girlfriends joined her on their feet, cheering just as loud. Tony ran over and clapped him on the back, and was quickly joined by Jaxon and Robbie. Catalina leaned across her sister and adjusted her glasses again. "That's the first time Trace made it to the buzzer."
Jeanine raised an eyebrow. "Looks like Trace Walker's a real cowboy after all."
Chapter Twelve
"You told her what?" Sterling sputtered when Trace finally had the chance to take him aside during the evening chores and explain his conversation with Cecilia, minus the kissing part. "What were you thinking?"
"I was trying to not blow my cover."
Sterling ran a hand through his cropped hair. "I get that, but now you've complicated things. My parents live in town. They're traveling a bunch, but if CiCi digs deeper, that could spell trouble." His face hardened. "And I refuse to ask my parents to lie."
"I'm real sorry about that. I don't want your parents to lie either. Hell, I don't even want you to lie." He stopped abruptly, beca
use how could he even begin to explain the way his brain went nuclear around Cecilia?
"You were supposed to stick to the ranch and lie low," Sterling accused with a frown. "What happened to that?"
"What was I supposed to do when Tony and Robbie kept bugging me to join them? Keep saying no?"
"Yes." Sterling nodded with a glare. "Folks in town know that the guys out here are working on putting their lives back together. They're friendly, but they understand why a lot of our guys keep to themselves."
"But I'm not one of them," Trace pointed out. And that, really, was the problem. He didn't fit in at the ranch, not really. Everyone here had welcomed him, and had made a point of including him in their Sunday night dinners, but they were an extended family with a shared history and he was the intruder. But he didn't belong anywhere in his old life either. It hadn't taken very long to realize the painful truth once he'd arrived in Prairie. He, Trace Walker McBride had been living in a house of cards. He'd constructed a paper-thin life with paper-thin friends and he'd set it on fire himself.
A decade and a half of blockbuster movies, entourages and a million-dollar lifestyle and not one person in his "friend circle" had texted to see where he'd vanished to, not one person had called to ask how he was doing when the story broke that he'd been fired from the set. Except Portia and her wife Sandra. He owed Portia everything - up to and including his life. His rocket to fame hadn't changed her, or her feelings for him. But it had changed him. An argument they'd had when he'd signed his first movie contract resurfaced. I can see you're hungry, Trace. If you eat what they're offering, you'll crash and burn. And I'll be here to help you pick up the pieces when you do. They hadn't spoken for years after that. Because of him. Because his MO was to cut and run. It was only a chance meeting at a charity banquet four years ago that had rekindled their old friendship. She could have told him to fuck off, but she'd remained his friend. Not because he deserved it, he didn't at all. She buried the hatchet because she was a better human. And when she looked at him she still saw the homeless kid, sick with fever, she'd discovered shivering under the pier in Santa Monica.
And after two months of hard work by day and long bouts of lonely soul searching by night, he resolved to be more like her. So when the guys hadn't given up on inviting him out for beers, he'd caved. Because he couldn't stand his own company a second longer, and he'd wanted to try. Much to his surprise, he'd enjoyed it. There was no pretense amongst the guys he'd come to know out at the rodeo arena. They looked at him and saw a guy who worked at a ranch and wanted to master bull riding in his spare time, just like them. They didn't see Trace the movie star, or Trace the fuck-up. To them, he was simply another one of the guys. And he wasn't going to let it go. He needed it too much.
"Look," he said, scraping a hand across his beard. "You may not like it, but Tony, and Robbie, and Jax... those guys have become my friends. And I'm not about to quit hanging out with them." Not when he was starting to feel like he belonged. "With as much time as we spend together, people would ask more questions if I kept to myself," he argued. "Especially someone like Cecilia. I'll draw less attention to myself if I become part of the community."
"But how are you going to explain yourself? CiCi's like a terrier. If she thinks something's not right, she'll grab on and won't let go. Hell, she drove her own dad out of town."
Trace's eyebrows shot up. "What? What do you mean?"
"It was a long time ago, and not my story to tell, but you need to keep your distance. Because if this whole thing blows up, a lot of people will get hurt." Sterling's eyes bored right into him. "Resolution Ranch is a safe zone for a lot of vulnerable people. Hell, the whole town is. Maybe you remember the town nearly got blown off the map nine months before you were here last time? People are still recovering. And I'm not... we're not going to let you hijack things because you can't keep your head on straight. Understood?"
Trace nodded once and swallowed down a painful lump in his throat. "Got it. I-" He hesitated, unused to the strange tight feeling in his chest. "I know you think I'm just a fuck-up, and that I don't care, but you're wrong. Being here, working at the ranch, getting to know everyone... has shown me what I've been missing in my life. And I... I just want a chance to start over." His stomach hollowed at the admission.
Sterling's eyes softened. "I get that. I do. All of us here... me, Travis, Weston... so many of us... have started over from nothing. But all of us had the space to do that without a camera in our face. The guys who are here now need that same space. And I'm counting on you not to fuck it up. For yourself, sure, but more importantly for them. If the press finds you and hunts you down, you have the option of going someplace else. They don't. Resolution Ranch is the end of the line for them."
It had been years since he'd felt the kind of fear and desperation that came with reaching the end of the line, but Trace remembered the feeling keenly. "You can count on me. Is there anything else you need me to do around here?"
Sterling shook his head. "Get a good rest tonight. Hope Sinclaire and her husband Ben are delivering a new group of mustangs tomorrow. We're gonna need all hands on deck."
"Got it, boss," he said with a salute.
"And one more thing," Sterling added as he made for the barn door.
"Yeah?"
"Lexi Grace is getting married next door this coming Saturday. We've agreed to help roast the pig."
"Great." Trace wasn't sure why this was important. He was happy to help.
"Do yourself a favor. Go down to Ander's Feed 'n Seed and get yourself a pair of black Wranglers and a black Stetson. Standard wedding attire around here. I assume you have a pair of black boots and a white shirt?"
"I'll have 'em by Saturday."
"And another thing." Sterling's eyes lit with humor. "Tony says you dance like a pussy. Better fix that."
"Will do." He also needed to see about a bike chain. Maybe Anders could help with that, too.
Chapter Thirteen
Saturday afternoon, Trace, Travis and Sterling arrived next door at the Grace property ready to help put the finishing touches on the yard. The night before, the men had gathered and shared one of Big Mike McCallister's specialty kegs while they dug the pit for the pig and then lit the coals. Now, fifteen hours later, the yard smelled of roast pig, freshly baked bread, and apple pie. Dottie bustled up, face pink from exertion. "Thank heavens you boys are here," she said. "Sterling can you and Travis direct traffic? Guests are going to be here in an hour, and CiCi and I are still prepping food." She eyed Trace with a smile. "You clean up good, young man. You look like yer startin' to belong here."
Trace stood a little taller under her scrutiny. That was high praise, coming from Dottie. "How can I help?"
"Weston and Jeanine are setting up the chairs. If Mike doesn't need help with beverages, go see what CiCi needs. I left her elbow deep in biscuit dough, and I just sent my girls upstairs to get changed."
"You want to go help Sterling direct traffic?" Travis asked, looking concerned after Dottie had bustled off. "I can go help in the kitchen."
Trace shook his head. "I can handle it. Not like we're going to have time to talk." He hadn't seen Cecilia since they'd kissed. Partly because Anders had to order a chain for her bike, and he hadn't wanted to show up at her place empty-handed, and partly because he felt like maybe she needed a few days to cool her jets. Although, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her - her sassy, smart mouth, and the way she used it - verbally and physically. He bypassed Mike and made his way to the back door. The screen was propped open with a rock, and he hesitated before entering the kitchen. From where he stood, he could see plates piled high with food covering nearly every surface of the kitchen table and counters. In the corner, Cecilia stood with her back to him, arm wrapped around a large ceramic bowl, enormous wooden spoon in her opposite hand, singing along to Cake by the Ocean. Trace folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb, settling in to watch. Her entire body moved with the music and had him imagining a whol
e host of dirty scenarios that involved the two of them in some state of undress.
She reached for a tray and began spooning the thick batter onto it in perfect time to the beat. A timer dinged and she pranced to the stove where she pulled out a hot tray, then quickly replaced it with the one she'd just filled, bumping the oven door shut with her hip. She paused, looking for a place to put the hot tray, but every space was full. Trace grabbed a dish towel that had been left draped over the door handle. "Here, let me take it."
She jumped with a shriek, and whirled, wobbling the tray and nearly losing the biscuits. "How long have you been there?" she demanded, eyes wide, cheeks pinking. She looked absolutely adorable. The pretty flowered sundress she wore was completely covered in the front by a hot pink apron emblazoned with a big heart with the words kiss the chef printed inside. A smudge of flour streaked high across her cheekbone. It took all he had to not cross the floor, take her in his arms and kiss her silly. Instead he took the tray from her hands, using the dish towel to protect his. "Long enough to see you could use another pair of hands." He was irrationally pleased she didn't protest as he took it to the far side of the table where a large stool stood empty. "These can cool here."
She'd already turned back around and was working on loading up another tray. "Great. Can you take the finger sandwiches out to the table? That will clear up some space."
"Where are they?"
Without turning around, she waved the spoon she held to her right. "Don't take off the plastic wrap yet. We don't want to attract flies."
"So you could say you're in need of a little... rescuing?" He couldn't resist teasing her just a little bit.
She stopped what she was doing and whipped around. "We're helping Dottie. And yes, it's going to take extra hands to put all the food out before everyone arrives."
She moved to turn back, but he caught her wrist. "Wait." He drew his thumb across the flour streak. Electricity crackled between them the instant he touched her. She sucked in a quick breath and her eyes flamed. "You had flour on your face," he said, not taking his eyes off her.