Rodeo Hero
Page 16
“Wow.”
Wyatt grinned. “Is that all you can say?”
She nibbled on her lip. “What can I do to help?”
“Talk to her, maybe invite her to church?”
“I know.” She patted his hand. “Maybe she’d talk to Brother Timothy.”
“Maybe. I’m willing to try anything.”
“You’d really raise a child that may not be yours?”
He nodded.
“You’re the one who’s amazing. And I’m proud to be your friend.”
❧
It was odd sitting with Stetson alone again. And she’d never been alone with him at the Cattlemen’s Steakhouse. But he was definitely stiff.
The server took their menus and hustled to the kitchen with their order. Steaks sizzled on the grill nearby. Other diners shared hushed conversations and laughter.
The last time she’d been here, she’d longed to sit in the bar with a drink. This time, the neon glow didn’t interest her, and she definitely needed a clear head.
Stetson took a sip of sweet tea. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For judging you.”
No one had ever said that to her before. She should probably be mad that he’d admitted such a thing. But she was too busy feeling good about herself for a change.
“I hope Wyatt didn’t mind you having dinner with me tonight.”
Just as she’d suspected. The reason for his stiffness? “There’s nothing between Wyatt and me. Our relationship ended the day I met you.” In more ways than one.
“But you sat with him at church yesterday. You went to the altar with him.”
“He was nervous and asked if I’d stick with him.” She fiddled with her cloth napkin, making an intricate series of folds. “I knew you’d probably take things wrong, but I couldn’t abandon him and take the chance of him not going to the altar. I was only concerned about his soul.”
Stetson stilled her hands with his.
Her gaze met his.
“The fact that he’s saved doesn’t make any difference in your feelings toward him?”
“No. And he’s not interested in me either. We never loved each other. In fact, he’s in love with someone else, and he’s battling some major issues. Issues that drove him to his knees.”
Stetson blew out a big breath. “You have no idea how relieved I am. I mean—not about his issues. But that you don’t love him.”
She bit her lip. “You could have been relieved a lot sooner if you hadn’t tore out of church yesterday. You could’ve at least given me the chance to explain.”
“True.” His thumb traced circles on her wrist. “Now that we’ve got that cleared up, there’s more that I wanted to tell you.”
“Go on.” She was breathless at his touch.
“At the conference, the youth pastor told us when he first met his wife and started falling for her, she told him about her daughter and her past. He was mad that she’d been with others. He was mad at the other men and mad at her. Disappointed and hurt.”
Kendra’s gaze dropped to the table, but she didn’t pull her hand away from his.
“He cautioned the boys that when they have sex with a girl, they’re having sex with another man’s future wife, and asked them how they’d feel about their future wives having sex with other boys before them. I think what he said resonated with the teens. And with me.”
His tender touch made it hard to concentrate on his words.
“Especially when he talked about how he tried not to have feelings for his wife. Tried to distance himself from her. But he loved her. His story paralleled what I’ve been going through. Loving you.”
Her breath caught.
“But trying not to. I love you, Kendra. And I’m hoping you feel the same way.”
“I do.” Her voice came out tremulous. “But—”
He pressed a fingertip to her lips. “But nothing.”
Stetson dug a New Testament from inside his jacket.
Never had she been with a man who brought a Bible to dinner. Her heart swelled with even more love for him.
The pages rustled as Stetson flipped them. “Hebrews 10:16–17, ‘This is the covenant that I will make with them after those days, saith the Lord, I will put my laws into their hearts, and in their minds will I write them; and their sins and iniquities will I remember no more.’ ”
He set the Bible on the table and reclaimed her hand. “Those verses sank into my heart. If God can forget sins, who am I to hold on to them? I’ve prayed about things—turned things that bothered me over to God. I’m ready to love you now. Ready to treat you like the purest treasure you are.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. “What if we run into”—she cleared her throat—“someone from my past?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m your future.” He caught the moisture with his thumb and traced her jawline. “I’d really like to kiss you now. In fact, I’ve wanted to for months.”
Her watery laugh came out jerky. “Go for it. I’ve been wanting you to for months.”
“No. I want to save it for the right time. In the meantime, this’ll have to do.” He turned her palm over and pressed a kiss in the center.
She shivered.
❧
Kendra sat near the bucking chutes at the end of the arena and couldn’t stop smiling. Cowtown Coliseum had never been so beautiful. The last time she’d been here, she’d been certain there could be no future with Stetson. But God had turned everything around. Yes, it was God who’d worked out the secondary virginity conference—she was certain of it.
Stetson sat on the rail in between bulls, waved at her, and blew several kisses her way. Each time it made her giggle like a teenager. She felt like a giddy teenager for the first time—ever.
The last bull rider got his score, and Stetson exited the arena. The announcer closed the rodeo for the evening. “But before we go home folks, we have a special surprise. Stick around; you won’t want to miss this.”
There was movement at the back of the announcer’s booth, above the bucking chutes. A man stepped forward. A familiar man.
“Ladies and gentleman, I’d like to introduce our very own awesome bullfighter, Stetson Wright.”
Stetson, wiped free of makeup, stepped into the spotlight at the announcer’s booth. What was he doing up there?
He breathed into the microphone he held, the sound rumbled over the speakers. “I’d like to ask a very special lady a very important question tonight.”
Kendra’s hand went to her heart. Surely not.
“Kendra Maddox, I want you to wear my hat on a regular basis. I want you to be the queen of my rodeo. Will you marry me?”
A second spotlight blinded her. Whistles and cheers echoed through the arena. No way he’d be able to hear her. She nodded, tears coursing down her cheeks.
The coliseum erupted with applause.
Stetson turned from the crowd and disappeared.
Within minutes, a spotlight caught him running around the side of the bucking chutes toward her. Minutes later, she was in his arms, laughing and crying.
He pressed his mouth to her ear. “I want to hear you say it.”
She shivered. “Yes.”
“I may not be your first, but you’ll be my first. On our wedding night—that is.” He took his hat off, settled it on her head, and moved in for a kiss. “And I’ll definitely be your last.”
The spotlight went black.
Her lips met his, soft, gentle, tender. Full of love and respect, a kiss like she’d never known.
He came up for air. “Wow. What are you doing for the next eighty or ninety years?”
Her eyes adjusted to the regular lighting, and she traced a fingertip around the barely there greasepaint he’d missed around his mouth. “Loving a clown.”
About the Author
Shannon Taylor Vannatter is a stay-at-home mom/pastor’s wife/writer. Her debut novel won the 2011 Inspirational Readers Choice Award in
the contemporary category. When not writing, she runs circles in the care and feeding of her husband, Grant, their eight-year-old son, and their church congregation. Home is a central Arkansas zoo with two charcoal-gray cats, a chocolate lab, a dragonfish, and three dachshunds in weenie dog heaven. If given the chance to clean house or write, she’d rather write. Her goal is to hire Alice from The Brady Bunch.
Dedication
Dedicated to JoAnne Simmons. When I pitched a book about a bull rider to her, she said, “Why is it always the cowboy? Why not the clown?” If not for her, this book wouldn’t exist.
I appreciate DeeDee Barker-Wix, Director of Sales at the Cowtown Coliseum, Julia Buswold, Executive Assistant at the Texas Cowboy Hall of Fame, Aubrey City Hall secretary, Nancy Trammel-Downes, and Aubrey Main Street Committee member, Deborah Goin. Thanks to Steve and Krys Murray, owners of Moms on Main, I felt like a celebrity when I visited Aubrey. I also appreciate fellow author, Lynette Sowell for allowing me to use a fictionalized version of a snippet from her real life romance involving a red convertible.
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Shannon Taylor Vannatter
Author Relations
PO Box 721
Uhrichsville, OH 44683