by Vicki Tharp
At the last photo, Ian’s breath caught. There were two photos stuck together. He reached across the desk wanting to take them back and separate them. “Sorry, one got stuck. That one wasn’t supposed to be there.”
Instead of handing over the pictures, Hakes separated them himself. Ian groaned when Hake’s appreciative eyes locked on Cora. The man probably couldn’t identify her even if he knew her, not with her face in the shadows like they were. But still. He knew.
“When was this taken?” No question Hake’s was asking about the one of Cora, not the rusted out pickup truck.
“Late last night at The Wagon Wheel.”
Hakes dropped Cora’s photo on top of his desk with three others. A derelict oil derrick, a herd of tumbleweeds blowing across an old two-lane road Ian had gotten lost on, and a Welcome to El Paso sign.
The editor gave him a price for all four. A respectable price. Ian would be stupid not to take the money. As it was, he’d be lucky to get back to the rodeo grounds with his tank and his wallet on empty.
“The Wagon Wheel isn’t for sale.”
Hakes studied him...and studied him. Ian stared back. Staring was easy. The editor’s eyes didn’t hold the hatred his father’s always had.
“All or nothing,” the man said.
Leaning forward, Ian started gathering all the photos even as his brain kept telling him to take the offer. “Sorry I wasted your time.”
Hakes laid a staying hand on the folder. “I’ll double it.”
What’s the big deal? No one can tell it’s her. Don’t be an idiot. Take the damn money.
If he didn’t do anything stupid, the cash would keep him in gas and food for a couple of weeks at least.
Hakes glanced at the clock on the wall. “I don’t have all day.”
You want to push your truck back to the rodeo grounds?
“Deal,” Ian said as the macaroni and cheese he’d had at lunch curdled in his stomach.
Hakes filled out a receipt and pointed across the room to a young woman who sat at a corner desk. “Take this to Irene. She’ll pay you.”
Ian stood to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you.”
Bobbing his chin at the Wagon Wheel photo, he said, “You have any more like that one, I’ll buy those too.”
He had more of those. More than he’d like to admit. “Sorry. That’s all I’ve got.”
Ian left the Tribune office with a pocket full of cash. The guilt threatened to overpower the pride he felt over someone else valuing his work. He should have felt on top of the world, like he could rescue damsels in distress and slay dragons, but with Cora’s photo in that pile he sold, he felt cheap and dirty.
* * *
The cold rays of winter sun weren’t powerful enough to burn off the low bank of clouds Cora saw through the window of her trailer early Sunday morning. She snuck a hand out from under her blanket and got a few aspirin from the bottle she’d left by her bunk.
Her knee had improved. She’d been able to ride the night before, and had managed not to drop a barrel, qualifying her for the last slot to run for the money in the races that night. But spending the night in the freezing cold trailer had made her knee stiff and sore again.
At least with Josephine spending her nights at the motel with Silas, Cora could use the lower bunk and not have to jump down from the top one.
She dressed in extra layers and cracked open the door. The wind had died down leaving a heavy gray sky in its place. As she went to step down, she caught herself. A copy of the El Paso Tribune lay on her step, a rock over the top to keep the paper from blowing away.
Along with another red rose.
What the? She glanced around. In the distance someone walked into the barn, but they paid her no attention. She unfolded the paper, her eye immediately going to the photo on the front page.
The photo of her.
“Ian!” she screeched out, not caring who she woke at that early hour. She stormed over to his trailer, seeing red, and magenta and crimson, and every other color in the Pissed Off hue. After everything she’d done for him the day before, this is how he paid her back?
She pounded Ian’s door with the meat of her fist. “Ian, you sad sonofabitch, open up.”
Bam, bam, bam, bam. She pounded again and again. Caddo O’Shea who’d slept in his truck a couple spots over rolled down his window and told her to keep it down.
“Ian. Open this damn door or I’ll—”
The door flung open. Ian stood in the doorway, his hair wet, his chest bare, and a towel wrapped around his waist. She barged up the steps not waiting for an embossed, engraved or any other kind of invitation.
“Mind telling me what the hell is going on?” he asked.
“What’s going on? What’s going on? Are you kidding me?”
“Cora—”
She slapped the paper to his chest. He caught it before it hit the ground. “Care to explain that to me?”
Above the fold in bold font was the headline: Rowdy Rodeo. Beneath that it read: Critics say the cash isn’t worth the cost. But that wasn’t what Cora had wanted him to see. Below that, before the article itself, was the photo from The Wagon Wheel.
He blew out a breath, but before he could speak, she held up a staying hand and started pacing back and forth—which proved difficult in such a confined space. “Don’t even start.”
She made several passes. “I’m pissed.”
“I can see that.”
She made several more trips, then glance up and shot him a look of exasperation. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” He sounded innocent. Cora knew he wasn’t.
“Like you’re itching to grab your camera and start snapping pictures.”
“Guilty.”
He didn’t look it.
She stopped pacing for a moment, anger giving way to intrigue into how his mind worked. She hadn’t ever cared too much about what a man thought before. A simple hookup didn’t require a connection past the physical.
“What makes you want to do that?”
He blinked at her and she could almost hear his mental gears grind as his mind caught up with her question. Then his eyes lit, and passion flooded in. Not for her. For photography.
“It’s your energy,” he said. The emotion. It’s captivating. You don’t have to speak when your body language does it for you. The tight way you’ve wrapped your arms around yourself for protection, yet your fists are clenched, ready to fight.”
She glanced down at her crossed arms and white knuckles.
“If I were photographing you, I’d take the shot from the ground up. You’d look larger than life, and warrior fierce. Not a victim. A tornado. A force to reckon with.”
Wow. She leaned against the bathroom wall. Fisting her hair in her hands, her mind at war with her conflicting emotions. How can she be so angry and yet fascinated at the same time? “You got a beer or something?”
“It’s seven in the morning.”
“So?”
“Isn’t that what got you into this mess to begin with?”
“No,” she said. “You’re what got me into this mess.”
He took her by the shoulders and walked her to the table. “Sit. I’ll fix you something to eat and we can talk it out. Deal?”
Cora sat, and squeezed her head between her hands. If her father saw that picture...She groaned. There was no question of if. Just a matter of when. The rodeo would swing through Corpus Christi, Texas in a couple weeks. Practically in her father’s back yard. Mentally, she’d have to prepare for him to come knocking at her door.
Not that she had ever been able to adequately prepare for that kind of mental beat down.
“What’s the matter?” Ian stirred instant coffee into a mug of hot water and set it on the table in front of her. While she’d been lost in thought he’d shucked the towel and pulled on a pair of jeans, though he hadn’t bothered with a shirt.
Her stomach did that tumbly, fumbly thing it always did w
hen confronted with hot man chest. She averted her gaze, she didn’t want to want him. Not just because he wasn’t a cowboy, but because she could already tell he wasn’t like the other men. He had depth. An emotional maturity. He was someone she could see herself with if she did relationships, which she absolutely didn’t.
To answer his question, she said, “My father’s going to flip when he finds out.”
“How is he going to find out? No one can even tell it’s you.”
“Whoever left the paper and the rose on my step recognized me.”
Ian stopped flipping the bacon. “Rose? What rose?”
Cora waved a dismissive hand at him. “My best friend, Josephine thinks I have a secret admirer. It’s nothing.”
“It’s creepy.”
“That’s not the point. The point is someone recognized me. Even though my parents live a couple hundred miles away in the Texas Hill Country, the rodeo crowd is tight knit. He’s gonna hear about it. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But he will.”
“Want me to call him and explain?” Ian placed the cooked bacon on some paper towels to drain and started beating the eggs.
“God, no.” Cora pinched the bridge of her nose, the headache coming on fast. “No, he doesn’t need the guy I’m sleeping with calling to explain anything.”
Ian stilled mid-stroke. “We’re not sleeping together.”
“Doesn’t matter. Between my reputation and my preacher father, you call him, and he’ll make the assumption.”
If Ian had thought what reputation? he didn’t voice it. Instead, the egg mixture sizzled as Ian poured it into the pan. “He’s got a rather low opinion of his daughter if you ask me.”
“It’s not unjustified.”
She should have been ashamed to admit that, but she wasn’t. Ian might not know about her reputation, but if he hung around the rodeos he’d find out soon enough. Life on the circuit could be an open book, all dog-eared, torn-pages, with scribbled notes in the margin for everyone to pick up and pass on.
Ian plated the food and joined her at the table. “You’re an adult. Your personal life is no one’s business but your own.”
He sounded sincere. But during her time on the circuit, she’d become a quick study of men. Around a bite of bacon, she said, “That’s what guys say when they’re trying to talk women into sex. I know I have a reputation, but I’m not going to sleep with you.”
“I’m not looking to have sex.” If he was lying he was doing a damn fine job of hiding it.
Ouch. Cora then thought about all the guys who were treating her like Typhoid Mary as if her pregnancy scare was a life-threatening contagion. She muttered, “Yeah. You and everybody—or should I say nobody—else.”
“What’s that?”
Don’t feel sorry for yourself. You’re a big girl. You made your bed, now you can sleep in it…alone. “Nothing.”
“Can’t we just be friends? I think we could both use one right now.” He held his hand out like he wanted her to shake on it.
She didn’t think that’s how friendships worked, but hey, she didn’t have anything to lose, so she shook his hand. Then he explained how the newspaper ended up with her picture.
“If you didn’t have the money, you should have told me. We didn’t have to keep shopping.”
“No guy wants to tell a pretty lady that he’s broke.”
“Pretty lady?” She cut him a look. “That doesn’t sound like an uninterested friend talking.”
“That wasn’t a come on. I’m just stating a fact.”
They fell into silence as they finished up their meal. Ian pushed his plate away. “Look, I apologize. Selling that picture was a shitty thing to do. Being out of money is no excuse. If I could take it back I would.”
His smile was sad, his eyes sincere. He pulled all the cash from his wallet and stuck it under her coffee cup. “That’s the money they paid me. Minus what I spent on gas and groceries yesterday. It doesn’t make up for what I did, but I want you to have it.”
“I don’t want your money.” She shoved the money toward him.
He shoved it back. “I don’t care.”
Take the damn money. The way you’ve been riding, you won’t be winning any checks any time soon.
Huffing out a breath, she counted out the money and divided it in half and pushed his share toward him. “If you run low on cash again, you can always give rides to the next rodeo to some of the guys who don’t have a vehicle. They’ll pitch in for gas and usually you can pick up a few bucks cleaning stalls or doing other odd chores at the rodeo grounds. There’s always someone who can use an extra hand.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
She nodded. “Sure. Thanks for the breakfast. Again. If you want, I’ll ask Josephine to have her fiancé Silas find you. He’s an ex bull rider. He can get you behind the chutes. Levi’s another one you should talk to, he can introduce you around.”
“You two have a history.”
Cora knew Ian was talking about Levi. It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss. “The man never could keep his mouth shut when he drank.”
Hence the whole poking holes in condoms rumor. She couldn’t prove he’d started it, but a good lawyer might be able to.
“It wasn’t like that. Levi didn’t say anything about you really. He just seemed a little protective is all.”
She winced. She didn’t like the reminder that she’d hurt Levi. “He wanted a relationship. I don’t do them.”
“Why not?”
“That’s getting a little personal.”
“We’re friends, remember?” The smile that grew beneath the stubble on his face shouldn’t have been endearing. Shouldn’t have made her want more. “We even shook on it.”
She couldn’t—wouldn’t—do this with Ian. She had her reasons, and she didn’t talk about relationships any more than she had them. “I’ve gotta go take care of Panache, he gets grumpy when he doesn’t get his grain on time.”
When she went to clear the table, he stopped her. “I’ve got this. Thanks again for the help and the understanding. I owe you one.”
A handsome man indebted to her? Yeah, she liked the sound of that. Even if they were just friends. She reached for the door knob. Over her shoulder she said, “Careful. Don’t make a promise you might regret.”
5
In the barn later that morning, Cora sat on the bale of hay across the aisle from where Josephine stood hunched over one of Panache’s front hooves, resetting the shoe he’d pulled off in his stall. She still couldn’t figure out how her horse had managed that.
“Cora,” Josephine said around the two horseshoe nails clamped in the corner of her mouth. “Just because Ian didn’t hit on you, or try to take you to bed, means he’s not interested. It doesn’t mean he’s gay.”
Cora scoffed.
Josephine tapped in a nail and clenched it down. “Is it so unbelievable that a guy isn’t into you?” Bent over the way she was, Cora couldn’t see Josephine’s smile, but it rang clear in her voice.
“I know there are men who aren’t interested. I’m just saying that in my experience, I hadn’t found many of them around here, at least not until the pregnancy scare. And—”
Josephine pulled the nails out of her mouth and glanced up. “That totally had to have been Patty Bennett who spread those rumors about the condoms.”
“Patty?”
“She’s sneaky, and she’s Levi’s new girl. It’s no secret he’s still mooning over you despite you two breaking up. What better way for Patty to make sure he doesn’t come crawling back to you than to spread those lies?”
“You may have a point.” Cora had always blamed the rumor on Levi, but he’d always been a decent guy. Patty made much more sense.
“Sorry,” Josephine said. “I’m sure Levi and Patty are the last people you want to think about. What were you saying about guys not being interested in you?”
“That even if they aren’t interested in me, they
at least give my tits a look.” Cora gave her boobs a fluff. “Ian? Nope, not so much as a glance. I mean, seriously, who could resist these?” Cora teased.
Josephine tapped in another nail. Panache swung his head around and gave the waistband of Josephine’s leather chaps a tug as if telling her to hurry it up.
“Who could forget the girls?” Josephine looked up long enough to roll her eyes. “I mean, I’ve checked out your boobs and I’m not remotely interested. There’s only one thing to do.”
“What’s that?”
“If you want him, ask Ian if he’s gay.”
Josephine finished clenching down all the nails and brought Panache’s leg forward, so she could rasp the rough edges.
“I don’t want him.”
She stopped mid stroke and glanced over at Cora. “Seriously? He’s hot. In that long, lean athletic sort of way. I’ve seen him jogging.” Josephine waggled her brows. “I don’t get the new jogging hype, but he probably has great stamina.”
“Still not interested.”
Josephine set Panache’s hoof on the ground and leaned back against the stall, her breathing a little labored from her efforts since Panache tended to lean on Josephine whenever she lifted his leg. “Then why does it matter whether or not Ian’s gay?”
She wasn’t interested. Was she? After all, Ian wasn’t her type, and as far away as Cora was from settling down, she knew there was a cowboy somewhere in her future, not a city slicker. Cora shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t.” Mostly.
Three stalls down, a door slid open and Patty Bennett came out of Levi’s horse’s stall, conspicuously making a point to not look in their direction.
“Speak of the devil,” Josephine mumbled.
Great. “Do you think she heard?” Cora didn’t know why she cared if Patty had overheard them blaming her for the rumor, considering Josephine was more than likely right. But what if she wasn’t? Cora had been on the receiving end of bad talk and snide comments, and as much as she tried not to let it bother her, sometimes it did. “Maybe I should go talk to her.”