“There’s something else. And this might be the deal breaker.” Melanie laced her fingers tightly in front of her. “You have to lay down some serious boundaries with Laura. She can’t come running here every time she stubs a toe. I know you feel responsible for her, and that you care about her but…” She waved a hand toward the floor. “There are three people downstairs who raced across town to throw their bodies between us if necessary, and a man who should be getting ready to fight bulls at a rodeo in Texas right now, but he’s here instead because you needed him. Those are friends. Not just someone who lets you take care of her. I think it’s time Laura learned the difference.”
Wyatt sat there, stunned. She was right. So was Julianne, even though she’d never said it in so many words. And Laura wasn’t entirely to blame. He’d enabled her for too long. And she was the only thing he had left of the first half of his life. He’d clung to that connection, as warped as it was, because he had never been able to believe that, if worst came to worst, anyone else would choose him. But Joe had—no questions asked. And Melanie would, if he gave her the chance.
“You need time to think,” she said, and strode across the room.
As the door started to swing shut behind her, Wyatt lunged for it. “No, I don’t.”
Even he couldn’t think himself out of this one. Melanie wanted to stay. She would always stay, because she believed. In herself. In him. In them. And he would eventually learn to take as well as he gave because he’d found a woman willing and able to bear his burdens.
The abrupt sensation of release was so powerful he had to grip the door with both hands to keep from losing his balance. Melanie wrapped her arms around his waist, solid and steady.
“I thought you’d never forgive me,” he said.
She pried one of his hands off the door to lift it to her lips. “Because of you, my brother didn’t destroy Grace or her career. And you had no choice but to keep it from me and everyone else. Did you really think I couldn’t appreciate that, or how much it has cost you?”
There was no way to express what he was thinking or feeling, so he scowled. “I also thought you were never coming back.”
“There’s that I’m not worthy crap again.” She gave his cheek a patronizing pat. “Have you considered therapy?”
He made a strangled noise.
She laughed, then leaned in until their noses touched and he was drowning in the warm brown of her eyes. “I can’t promise I’ll never leave you again. There may be times when it’s the only way we both survive. But I will always come around sooner or later.”
He gave her a suspicious squint. “How will I know whether I’m forgiven or you’ve just finished plotting your revenge?”
“You won’t. But at least you’ll never be bored. And I love you too much to do permanent damage.”
Love. Marriage. His world did what felt like a full spin. She tried to drop a quick kiss on his mouth, but he hauled her close, shoved the door shut, and pushed her up against it. They were both breathing hard when he tore his mouth from hers to scatter kisses down the side of her neck while he tugged at her shirt. They left a trail of clothes as they worked their way to the bed.
Her stomach gave a deep growl, and she laughed. “I haven’t had lunch.”
“Luckily, I know a place close by.”
“It’s Thursday,” she said, then gasped as he nipped the tender skin below her navel. “Chili day. I love Helen’s corn bread.”
“You can have a whole pan, once we’re done with the appetizer course.”
Handy, having good food in the bar. They could stay up here for days while he made sure this woman understood that he worshiped her with all his heart, body, and soul, and let her return the favor. He was still amazed she would let him foot her bills, given that powerful streak of independence. But this was Melanie. She was too secure to feel undermined because he wanted to buy her a pickup and trailer to relaunch her rodeo career.
He tipped her onto her back to give her a mock frown. “That thing you said about me supporting you…are you sure you’re not just after my money?”
She arched and twisted so she was on top. “The cash is nice. Your incredible good looks don’t hurt. And I intend to take full advantage of all those connections of yours on behalf of my clients. But I could have all of that without a ring. The truth is…” She traced a line along the top of his shoulder with her tongue, then nipped his earlobe and whispered, “I’m marrying you for permanent custody of that kick-ass shower.”
Epilogue
Wyatt had never been so nervous at a rodeo in his life. Not even the first time he’d fought bulls. Having to step up and perform under pressure was his version of crack. But this…being forced to stand by and watch, with no control over the outcome…
“Next up is Melanie Darrington, from Pendleton, Oregon,” the announcer declared. “She didn’t join us until almost halfway through the season, and it’s taken a while for her to get on a roll. The rodeo here in Colfax is her last chance to qualify for our regional finals, but she’ll have to place deep to do it.”
As always, Wyatt’s chest got tight and achy at the introduction. He’d never thought he’d be proud of the Darrington name until Melanie had decided to wear it. Wyatt had offered to marry her in a church but she’d refused, insisting on cramming their friends and most of their regulars onto the patio of the Bull Dancer. Helen and Miz Iris had sniffled together in the front row until it was time to dish out the massive amounts of food they’d cooked up in the bar kitchen. And Louie—who had been ordained via an online ministry in order to perform his niece’s wedding ceremony—had presided over the festivities.
The bride wore Wyatt’s favorite sky-blue sundress with scarlet poppies—and white peep-toe pumps. The groom wore cowboy boots.
Tonight she and Roy both appeared to be totally relaxed as they strolled into the arena. His coat gleamed golden under the lights, and his black mane and tail matched the shirt and hat that made her look lean and deadly—like a gunslinger about to step into the street for a showdown. She took a couple of easy practice swings. Wyatt gripped the fence rail so hard his fingers went numb. As she backed Roy into the corner of the roping box, both of their gazes fixed on the calf in the chute. She cocked her arm back and nodded her head.
Swing, swing, swing…zap!
The loop curled around the calf’s neck, and she ripped the slack out as Roy slammed on the brakes. Pop! The rope snapped free from the saddle horn, the loose end flying in a high, graceful arc under the lights.
“Two point eight seconds!” the announcer shouted. “That’ll put her in second place for the moment, with only one roper to go. Now there’s a lady who really knows how to come through in the clutch.”
Yes. Melanie would always come through, one way or another.
Even for people who hadn’t stood up for her. She had ultimately gone back to Westwind Feeds, but only long enough to establish order in the aftermath of Leachman’s arrest. She’d also assisted in choosing and training an interim CEO—Anna from the lab, who had a business degree along with her master’s in biotech. She still called or emailed Melanie at least once a week, and between them, they had persuaded the board to add scientific credentials to the list of requirements for CEO candidates.
With Melanie’s help, Anna was making it very difficult to choose anyone but her.
A pointed elbow dug into Wyatt’s ribs. “Dude. You can take a breath now.”
Glaring at Scotty, Wyatt peeled his fingers off the rail and shook the feeling back into them. Honest to God. This wasn’t even for the big money. He had a whole new respect for rodeo wives who had to sit in the stands and watch their husbands duke it out for world championships. Tori had had to suffer through four National Finals with Delon in gold buckle contention every time, twice successfully. Maybe she could teach Wyatt some breathing exercises. Or share her tranquilizers.
On the return trip from retrieving the rope her calf had dragged to the catch pen, Melanie swung by and held out a hand for Wyatt to slap in congratulations. Her smile shimmered with triumph. “Now you can concentrate on initiating your babies.”
As the final breakaway roper exited the arena—she hadn’t come close to beating Melanie’s time—the music made the familiar switch to a deep, ominous bass riff. All of the sudden, Scotty wasn’t quite so cocky, his freckles standing out against his paler-than-usual cheeks as he danced from foot to foot. Philip’s face looked like it had been carved from brown basalt stone. Wyatt rubbed his hands together in anticipation as his pulse revved up from long habit.
Time to have some fun.
The announcer’s voice rang out above the music. “As some of you know, tonight’s performance is very special for two young gentlemen…and for those of us who get to be here to watch. This was the very first rodeo Wyatt Darrington ever worked as a bullfighter, and as a nod to that tradition, each year he brings his latest protégés here to make their official debuts. Keep your eyes open, folks, because you may be about to meet future legends. But first, please welcome the man himself, seven-time professional bullfighter of the year, Wyatt Darrington!”
The roar as he stepped away from the chutes and saluted the crowd nearly drowned out the remainder of the introductions. He was pretty sure neither Scotty or Philip noticed. Wyatt strolled by and slapped Scotty on the back. “What was that you said about breathing?”
Scotty flipped him off. Wyatt laughed.
And then they all moved into position as the first bull rider climbed down into the chute and took his wraps. He nodded his head, the gate swung open…and two more careers were born.
* * *
Half an hour later, Melanie was waiting for them behind the bucking chutes as they shouldered their way through a flurry of backslaps and handshakes. Both Scotty and Philip were grinning so hard they were going to have permanent creases—with good reason. They’d made a couple of nice saves, their timing perfect as they leapt in front of fallen riders and lured the bulls away. Wyatt hadn’t had to do anything but hang out on the perimeter and watch as all the hard work they’d done over the summer came to fruition.
There were moments that Wyatt wondered if he’d fallen into a coma and this was just an extended dream. Everything was going so well, it was almost frightening. Laura had pouted for a while after they’d had their long-overdue talk, but when she’d stomped off to their room, Julianne had hugged Wyatt and quietly thanked him. They were disappointed that Melanie had chosen to keep her distance, but again Julianne had understood, and Laura would just have to deal.
Wyatt had stayed behind when Melanie went to tell Hank that she was getting married, but both Bing and Gil had been with her when she went to see her brother. Hank hadn’t said a word, just stomped off into the woods. This time, Gil had gone after him while Bing hugged Melanie and told her she was doing the right thing.
Melanie hadn’t tried to see him since. As promised, though, Bing kept her updated. Most recently, she’d called to say that Hank had been roped into coaching a flag football team at the elementary school and was amazingly good with the kids. Maybe because he’d been one for so long, Melanie had said, her dry humor a sign that Hank wasn’t the only one on the path to recovery.
Grace was back in the Panhandle, whipping the athletic training program at Bluegrass High School into shape and, whether she liked it or not, becoming Shawnee’s protégé.
“That girl needs to acquire some attitude,” Shawnee had declared. “And I happen to have plenty to spare.”
Heaven help them all if she succeeded in passing it along.
Melanie sauntered over to give Scotty and Philip a hug and an attaboy before she slid an arm around Wyatt’s waist and held up her cell phone. “Check this out.”
The text included a photo of a familiar bronze Ford, a slender blond leaning on the bumper with a triumphant grin and her arms spread possessively across the grill. I got the pickup. I thought you’d like to know. Best wishes.
It was from Michael Miller’s newly ex-wife.
Wyatt laughed. Damn, karma was a beautiful bitch.
“Celebrations are in order.” Melanie gave him a squeeze. “Whaddaya think, cowboy? Wanna get lucky?”
He inhaled the heady aromas of rosin, bull manure, and man sweat. A haze of dust floated under the lights on a background of velvety-black sky, and the woman he craved more than the adrenaline that still pulsed in his veins was tucked close against his side.
“I can’t imagine how a man could be any more blessed.”
She poked him in the belly. “Careful, there. Someone might hear you.”
He tilted his head back to smile straight up into the heavens. “In that case, I’d better say thank you.”
Order Kari Lynn Dell’s next book
in the Texas Rodeo series
Mistletoe in Texas
On sale October 2018
Keep reading for a sneak peek of the next book in Kari Lynn Dell’s Texas Rodeo series
Mistletoe in Texas
Prologue
The instant Grace McKenna stepped into the barbecue joint, she was attacked from behind. She squealed in surprise as strong male arms hoisted her off her feet and swung her in full circle.
“Grace!” Hank Brookman dropped her onto her feet and spun her around, and as always, her heart stumbled at the sight of his laughing face. “You’re back! I was starting to think you were gonna spend the whole Christmas break at school.”
“I had to work until yesterday.” One of three part-time jobs that were putting her through college.
Hank thrust her out to arms’ length, his brown eyes dancing as they took her in, head to toe. “What’s up with the dress? I thought you were throwing them all out when you turned eighteen.”
“I have a luncheon with my mom at the church.” And she really didn’t want Hank to see her in this dull gray dress and sensible shoes, but when she’d spotted his pickup outside the Smoke Shack, she’d reluctantly decided it was better to see him like this than not at all. “I’m changing into jeans the minute we get home.”
“Aw. I sorta miss my little red-haired girl.”
“My hair isn’t red,” she pointed out yet again. And now that she wasn’t living in her parents’ house, she no longer had to follow their dress code, except for church on the rare Sundays she got caught at home.
He tweaked one of her rusty-brown curls. “Close enough. And you’ve still got those cute freckles.”
Cute! Gah.
But then he grinned at her again and all was forgiven, as it had been from the first time he’d flashed that smile at her in the fourth grade. Behind the mischief there was true warmth, and a sweetness that had saved him time and again from the consequences of his failure to think first.
“Order’s ready, Hank!” the blond boy behind the counter called out. Then Hank’s best friend spotted her. “Hi, Grace. How’s it going?”
“Hey, Korby.” Unlike some, he’d been friendly to the weird, nerdy girl whose family had moved into Earnest when they were all ten years old, and nowadays when their paths crossed on campus, he always said hello. Then again, Korby was the human equivalent of golden Labrador puppy—he knew no strangers. “Do you have time for a Coke?” Grace asked, turning back to Hank.
“Not right now.” Hank grabbed the large, fragrant bag, topping a grimace with an eye roll. “Dad’s got his shorts all in a twist because the vet’s coming to Bangs vaccinate our heifers and Mom decided she didn’t feel like cooking—or helping out at the corral. Melanie’s working this weekend, so it’s just me and the old man.” He slapped his butt with his free hand. “Get a good look at this ass now, because it’ll be chewed off by the end of the day.”
Grace never quite knew what to say to his not-quite-joking comments about his family. Sorry your parents
suck, but at least your sister is cool? Though never around since Melanie had graduated from college and gotten a job in Amarillo.
“Forget that.” Hank’s eyes lit up again. “I’m so glad I saw you. Can you sneak away tomorrow afternoon and come to the Holiday Bull Bash in Goodwell? Jacobs Livestock is the contractor and I am one of the bullfighters!” He practically vibrated in place. “It’s gonna be my first event with pro cowboys and the A-string bulls. I could use some moral support.”
“The money goes to support their rodeo team,” Korby added. “They have a pig roast and live music afterward, and all the alumni will be there signing autographs.”
Whoa. That was a fistful of world champions, including the legendary Etbauer brothers. No wonder Hank was excited.
He grabbed one of her hands. “See? You’ve gotta come and watch.”
Grace’s pulse did a crazy jitterbug. For nine years she’d sat next to Hank in class and across from him at lunch, forbidden to date anyone let alone that wild Brookman boy. Now finally, finally, she was out from under her father’s thumb and not only could Hank invite her to a rodeo, she could say yes!
“I’ll be there,” she said.
Even if she had to steal her mother’s car.
* * *
In the end, Grace worked up the nerve to ask for the keys—after her father had left to help build props for the church nativity play. Her mother fussed about Grace going alone, but relented when she pointed out that it was an afternoon event and Goodwell was only an hour away.
She’d call later with an excuse to stay for the party—and deal with her father when she got home. After she’d had the time of her life.
As she walked into the indoor arena, Grace smoothed nervous hands over her hips, sure everyone in the place was staring at the rhinestones on the back pockets of the jeans she’d changed into at a convenience store along the way. The bling on her butt would have been too much for her mother.
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