Rodeo Hero

by Vannatter, Shannon Taylor;

  Stetson jogged to catch up with her. “Hey, you gotta go back to work?”

  Kendra checked her watch. “Actually, by the time I got back, it would be past quitting time. Adam said not to bother.”

  “How about that bull ride you never took?”

  She glanced at the mechanical bullpen, catty-cornered across the street. “I don’t know.”

  “You too chicken?”

  She chewed on the inside of her jaw. “You’re on.”

  He offered his elbow.

  Hesitantly, she placed her hand in the crook of his arm as they crossed the street. “I’ll go first.”

  A man yelled something unintelligible, followed by several loud pops from their left.

  “Oh.” Her fingers dug into Stetson’s bicep.

  Three men lay in the street. The fourth held a gun.

  “Relax.” He patted her hand. “It’s a performance.”

  The crowd clapped, and the three men stood and bowed.

  She blew out a big breath.

  “Sorry, guess I should have warned you, but I didn’t realize it was that time of day.” Two large horses clip-clopped down the brick-lined street, pulling the red-and-yellow stagecoach. “Hey, hold up. Let’s ride the stagecoach.”

  Stetson stepped to the curb, and the coach stopped. He paid and helped her into the black-buttoned seat.

  Kendra scooted as close to the window and away from him as she could get. “What kind of horses are these? They’re huge, but their feet aren’t hairy enough to be Clydesdales.”

  “They’re Percheron.” The handlebar-mustached driver adjusted his black cowboy hat. “They’re a breed of draft horse from France and were originally war horses, but were later used for plowing and driving stagecoaches. They’re docile, easy to train, and hardworking.”

  The horses clip-clopped along.

  Stetson pretended interest in the buildings on her side of the coach and scooted closer.

  “Can you imagine traveling this way?” Her voice had a breathless quality. “It must have taken forever to get anywhere.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a slower-paced way of life. These days we don’t have time for the important stuff—like getting to know people, making friends, finding someone special.”

  His leg touched hers.

  She jerked away. “We’re at the mechanical bullpen. Driver, can you stop here?”

  Why was she suddenly so jumpy?

  “Sure, but you paid for a longer ride.”

  “It’s okay, this is fine.”

  The coach stopped, and Kendra practically bailed out.

  “Hey, settle down. I don’t bite.”

  She propped a hand on her hip. “I’m anxious to show you how a cowgirl rides a bull.”

  “Want me to hold your camera?”

  She pulled the strap from her neck and handed it to him. “Careful. My life’s work rests on that.”

  He paid for their rides.

  Kendra mounted the rawhide-draped dummy bull and raised her left hand in the air like a pro. The bull started off slow, and she went with every turn and jerk.

  Stetson whistled. “You’re doing great.”

  The ride sped up, and she clutched the bull with both hands. With a spin and a whirl, she landed in a heap on the mat. But out of the bull’s range.

  She burst into laughter and stood. “Your turn.”

  Stetson mounted the fake bull and raised his left hand. The bull whirled and jerked, right from the start. Two turns and a jerk threw Stetson. A fake horn hooked him until he got out of its reach.

  “I win.” Kendra raised both arms above her head in a victorious jump.

  “I think you had some help.” Stetson cut his gaze toward the bull operator.

  The man grinned with an innocent shrug.

  “You can’t take it, but I beat you. Fair and square.”

  He threaded his fingers through hers.

  She stiffened for a moment then relaxed.

  “You hungry?”

  “Kendra Maddox, I thought I saw you at the press conference.”

  A tall, muscled blond man stopped them on the brick walk.

  “Hey, Chuck. How are you?”

  This time Stetson stiffened. His chest tightened. Who was he?

  “Good. You look great. As usual.”

  “Thanks. So do you. Who did you cover Clay’s press conference for?”

  “Rodeo Life Magazine.” He pulled a lanyard with a press card up for them to see. “I saw your photo spread in a recent issue. You still in Dallas?”

  “Yes. I’m a photographer for an ad agency. Good seeing you.”

  “You, too.” Chuck hurried on his way.

  Kendra squeezed his hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Stetson lied.

  “It’s definitely something.” She stepped in front of him, forcing him to look into her pale-blue eyes, her want-to-be-kissed lips, her soul.

  “Who was he?”

  “He was a reporter where I used to work.”

  Was she telling the truth? Was that all there was to it? Or was Chuck one of her past conquests? Would he wonder every time they ran into a man she knew? Could he take a lifetime of wondering?

  He checked his watch. “On second thought, I better get to the farm. I’ve got a heifer ready to deliver any time. I’m afraid I don’t have time for supper.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Is something wrong? Did I do something?”

  “No, I just need to check on the calf situation.”

  “Maybe we could have supper another time?”

  “Maybe. The least I can do is walk you to your car.”

  ❧

  Watching the endless white rail fence as it passed the passenger’s window of Adam’s SUV made Kendra dizzy. The usual suspects surrounded her—Rayna beside her with Adam driving and Gabby riding shotgun.

  “I figured you’d pick somewhere more exotic for the shoot.” Rayna undid her seat belt as they neared the farmhouse.

  “I wanted to catch the bullfighter in his natural surroundings.” Movement caught her eye in the field beside the drive. A tractor. A shirtless Stetson was driving, his tanned chest glistening with sweat.

  She sucked in a deep breath. He’d have to put his shirt back on, or she’d never make it. Didn’t he know it was November? Okay, barely November, and the Texas sun apparently hadn’t caught on just yet either.

  What had happened yesterday? Her heart had almost beat itself to death in the stagecoach with him so near. All she could think about was kissing him. Had he ever even been kissed?

  Maybe she’d insulted him by bailing out of the coach before their ride was over. Did he think she didn’t like being near him?

  No. They’d had fun riding the bull. He’d even asked her to dinner. Everything had been fine, until they’d run into Chuck.

  Warmth spread through her. Was he jealous?

  Adam parked and killed the engine.

  The tractor stopped. Stetson grabbed his shirt from the back of the seat and slipped it on.

  Kendra started breathing again and got out of the SUV. Fresh tilled earth filled her senses, reminding her of home.

  He climbed down and jogged toward them.

  “You didn’t forget the shoot, did you?” Adam shouted.

  “No. Kendra said to go about my normal day, and I’ve got alfalfa to plant for next year’s hay.” He climbed the fence. “Should I wash up a bit, or do you want me sweaty?”

  “Definitely sweaty.” She raised her camera and got a shot of him leaning against the fence. “Just give me ‘a day in the life of Stetson Wright.’ Sitting on a hay bale, riding your horse, driving your tractor, standing in the barn loft window. That kind of thing.”

  “That actually sounds fun. Where to first?”

  “The barn. I need to check on my cat.”

  Stetson sauntered in that direction, followed by Adam and Gabby.

  “Your cat.” Rayna fell into stride with her. “I take it things are going well with y’a
ll?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  ❧

  Perched on the arena fence, Stetson caught a glimpse of Kendra in Rayna’s box seats. Her camera around her neck, she was there to work. Just as he was. Focus. An unfocused bullfighter could cost a cowboy his life.

  “What’s the matter, clown?” Wyatt climbed the fence to the bucking chute where a red Brahma waited for him. “Kendra got you down? Trust me. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”

  Ignore him. Don’t take the bait.

  Stetson jumped from the fence and trotted across the arena, taking his position near the gate.

  “First up, Wyatt Marshall, riding Risky Business.” The Chicago Bulls theme song played over the loudspeaker as the gate opened. The bull twisted, kicked, and spun. It changed direction, and Wyatt slid to the left. The bull spun to the right—Wyatt fell off. The bull turned toward the downed cowboy.

  Wyatt’s jeers could end right here. All Stetson had to do was stay put.

  fourteen

  Stetson jolted into action, darting between the bull and Wyatt. The beast on his tail, Stetson ran to the gate then bolted behind it while the bull continued down the corral.

  What was wrong with him? He knelt and covered his face with both hands. He’d just been tempted to let a man die or—at the very least—get seriously injured.

  “Stetson, you okay?” the gateman hollered. “You hurt?”

  He stood. “I’m fine.”

  “You better hightail it outta there and get back to work.”

  He reentered the arena, and the crowd applauded. Stetson’s gut twisted. If only they knew.

  Wyatt climbed the fence. Still in one piece.

  ❧

  Kendra waited in the back lobby. She’d probably run into Wyatt, but she didn’t care. She had to check on Stetson.

  He’d seemed off tonight. Distracted. Had the bull hooked him after he’d made the exit gate? He’d gone down behind the gate for a moment.

  She caught a glimpse of him, still in greasepaint, and hurried to meet him. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “I don’t know. That bull went after you in the gate, and you disappeared for a minute. I thought he might have hooked you.”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “I’m glad.” She hugged him.

  His arms came around her. “Are you okay?”

  “I was worried about you.” Risk taker, adventure seeker, bungee-jumper Kendra Maddox worried about someone. For the first time in her life.

  “Stetson.” Wyatt’s voice.

  Kendra stepped away from him, holding her breath.

  Wyatt stuck out his hand. “Thanks. You saved my hide from a real bad wreck.”

  Stetson swallowed hard and accepted the handshake. “Just doing my job.”

  “You’re a better man than me. Roles reversed, I might have been tempted to stay out of the bull’s way.”

  Stetson’s jaw clenched.

  Wyatt turned to Kendra. “I’m sorry for all the grief I’ve given you. Sore loser, I guess. From now on, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

  Wyatt sauntered down the hall, leaving them alone.

  “Wow. I never saw that coming.”

  Bile coated the back of Stetson’s throat. “I gotta go.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He walked away from her.

  “Talk to me.” She cut him off.

  “I’m not a better man than Wyatt.”

  “You’re the best, most honorable man I’ve ever known.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Then tell me what’s going on.”

  “I was tempted to stand there and let the bull pulverize Wyatt to keep his mouth shut about you.”

  He expected revulsion from her. At the very least, disappointment.

  Instead a slow smile tugged at her mouth, and she hugged him.

  He tried not to respond. But his arms came around her. He buried his face in her hair.

  “No one’s ever cared that much about me.”

  “Don’t you see? I was tempted to let him die.”

  “But you didn’t. I’m glad to know you’re human. I was beginning to wonder.”

  “I’m definitely human.” Her perfume was doing a number on his senses and he wanted to kiss her. Bad.

  “But you did the right thing. The honorable thing.”

  ❧

  Kendra sifted through the pictures of Stetson with Gabby’s copy on her computer. They were all good. How could anyone choose only a few shots with such a delicious subject?

  Her phone rang. An outside call. “Bradley and Associates, Kendra Maddox speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Hey, Kendra, it’s Heather. I need your size so I can order your bridesmaid dress.” Heather’s tone was all business—like it was all decided, and Kendra had no choice in the matter. “The wedding’s only three weeks away. The store I’m using in Wichita Falls has a shop in Dallas, so it will be convenient for you. And then I need to set up a time when you can go in for a fitting. We don’t have to go together, but I was hoping our schedules would gel so we could spend some time together.”

  Kendra closed her eyes. Go home? Face her father? But she couldn’t let Dalton down. Maybe with the wedding everything would be so busy she wouldn’t have a spare moment for a showdown with Daddy. She could even stay in a hotel.

  “I usually wear an eight. When’s good for you?”

  “Oh good, let me look at my calendar.” Relief sounded in Heather’s voice. “Dalton is so excited that you’ll be there.”

  “Does Daddy know?”

  “No. We didn’t want him to be disappointed in case things didn’t work out. Your father doesn’t even know Dalton’s been in contact with you.”

  “Good. Don’t tell him.” She wanted his genuine reaction when she showed up. Anger, disgust, disappointment. If he knew she was coming, he might mask it.

  “Listen, Kendra, I’m new to your family. I don’t understand the dynamics, and it’s none of my business what happened in the past. But I do know this—your father misses you.”

  Hidden beneath Heather’s words, the promise rang clear. Heather would never pry.

  “How about next Thursday, after work?” Heather asked.

  “You can drive over, and we’ll have a bunking party. I’ll take off Friday, and we’ll make a day of it.”

  “I could stay in a hotel.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I have a hide-a-bed couch you’re welcome to.”

  ❧

  Kendra smoothed her hands down the classic, tailored lines of the royal blue, silk-lined lace dress. Mirrors reflected her image from almost every angle on the stage in the back of the bridal shop.

  “It’s perfect.” Heather clapped her hands. “Like it was made for you. It hugs all your curves in just the right places. Just wait till Stetson sees you in it.”

  “He’s not coming. And remember—we’re not an item. I hate that since there aren’t any alterations to be made, you came all this way for nothing.”

  “I don’t consider spending time with my future sister to be nothing. I always wanted a sister.”

  “Me, too.” Kendra twirled in front of the mirror.

  The bell on the door jangled, signaling another customer’s arrival. The sales clerk hurried to help.

  “This would be a nice traveling suit for when we leave the church.” Heather pulled a satin jacket and skirt in the same shade as Kendra’s dress from a rack.

  “Kendra?” Shock resonated in Stetson’s voice.

  Like the shockwaves coursing through her. She turned to face him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Shopping for my mom for Christmas.”

  “At a bridal shop?” She quirked an eyebrow.

  “I like buying her pretty dresses.”

  “You remember Heather.” She ran a hand, Barker’s Beauty–style, over one sleeve of her dress. “This is my bridesmaid’s dress.”

  “S
he might just show me up on my wedding day.” Heather laughed.

  “I don’t see it happening.” Kendra rolled her eyes.

  “Maybe you could help me pick something out for Mom.”

  “Great idea.” Heather grinned. “Kendra has excellent taste.”

  Kendra frowned. They’d barely begun their shopping day, and she hadn’t picked anything out. Heather had no idea what kind of taste she had.

  “What color?” Stetson pulled two dresses from a rack: one pale pink, one fuchsia.

  “I really wouldn’t know, since I’ve never met your mom. What does she look like?”

  Stetson dug in his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and flipped through the accordion-style picture holder. “Here.”

  “Definitely the fuchsia. With her dark hair, she needs vibrant colors.”

  “Really.” He frowned, tucked his wallet back in place, and chose another dress in a pale sea-green. “What about this one?”

  “Even though it’s pale, it would be pretty with her eyes.”

  “Good.” He grinned. “That’s what I thought when I bought her one that color for her birthday. And she hasn’t even worn it yet. Says she’s saving it for my wedding.”

  Don’t think about his wedding. When he’d marry some pristine, pure, perfect girl.

  “What color would you use in your wedding, Kendra?” Heather asked.

  Kendra swallowed hard. Why ask that now? “My favorite, of course—fuchsia. Is your mom going to a wedding?” Make light of the discussion.

  “No.” Stetson hung the pink and green dresses back on the rack. “When I was a kid, after my dad died, Mom hardly ever bought anything for herself. And when she did, it usually came from Goodwill. So I like buying her nice things.”

  “Awww.” Heather sighed. “That’s so sweet.”

  “So these colors here—is that what you call vibrant?” He held up three dresses in teal, royal, and red.

  “You got it.”

  “So you think my mom would look good in any of these?”

  “Yes.” Just pick one and go. Anything but fuchsia. You cannot have your wedding with Miss Perfect and my favorite color.

  He put the dresses back on the rack, except for the fuchsia. “I’ll take this one.”

  Kendra held her breath until he completed his purchase.