by Em Petrova
“It’s his middle name,” Lane said between hoots of laughter.
Even Adrianna giggled. “Aloysius?”
“My father’s idea,” Ryder said through gritted teeth, shooting her a glare. She hushed but mirth danced in her brown eyes. All the brothers had discussed how pretty she was but their contract had a hands-off clause. Only their baby sister Wynonna seemed to be exempt from it.
“What’s your middle name, Buck?” Adrianna asked.
“Samuel, from the Bible,” he drawled.
“And yours, Lane?”
“Lane Rockwell Calhoun.”
Her white teeth flashed as she grinned.
“That’s right—everyone in the family has a decent middle name but me. I got the shitty end of the stick, and I still get it every day.” Ryder didn’t really feel this way but he did love teasing Buck that he was favored his whole life because he was oldest.
Buck sobered. “Dad felt bad about saddling you with Aloysius. It’s why you got his chaps.”
Adrianna swung the camera up to capture Ryder’s response. He gave a grunt and a nod. “My lucky chaps help me every single time I’m on the back of a bull.”
His pony-skin chaps were speckled black and white with thick, tooled brown leather details. He’d added the fringe—or rather Wynonna had. She was good with leather working and if she stopped barrel racing, she could easily start saddle-making.
For Ryder, buckling on his chaps was akin to saying a prayer and buying a lottery ticket all at the same time.
“Given the choice between giving up the name or the chaps, I’ll keep the name,” he said and walked out of the fenced area.
“You scared him off,” Lane teased Adrianna.
Ryder threw a look over his shoulder. “Just grabbin’ my rope. We taking care of these calves or not?”
All the way to the barn, he let his mind work over his next task. His two seconds of quiet were a thing of the past—they were separating and vaccinating calves today. The mothers and babies got stressed to the max from separation. They often bawled all night long, and the Calhouns were fond of their sleep. That was only one of the reasons why they’d come up with a new method, though.
Actually, it had been Buck’s idea. As part of team ropers Calhoun/Franklin, he was a championship header. He roped the horns while his partner snagged the heels for a quick time on the scoreboard. But real cowboys still used this technique on operating ranches, so the Calhouns employed the method.
Ryder reached for a length of rope looped on a nail high on the wall and headed back to the enclosure. When he got there, all of his brothers, as well as his sister, were present. The film crew set up points around the fence line, but one young guy was brave enough to get in the way of the stampeding hooves.
Buck waved the siblings near, and they got into a circle just like when one of them was about to rodeo. For you, Dad, Ryder thought automatically, and found it was true. This was for their dad—keeping traditions, taking care of the ranch Buck Sr. had built. At least they’d kept it out of the hands of their greedy cousin after a fuck-up with the will.
“Pair off. Each pair gets four calves,” Buck was saying.
“Four calves or four throws?” Wynonna asked, tugging her long auburn braid over her shoulder.
Buck laughed. “It’ll take me four throws but you use as many as you need, sister.”
Her eyes narrowed, making them look more elongated than normal. She and Lane shared the same eyes, and sometimes they could glare better than the barn cats.
“It’ll take me four as well,” she said.
Buck smiled and continued, “Direct the calves toward the water.” He turned and pointed at the huge metal tub at the end of the fenced area. “The calves move between the fenced walls into the hands of the second team, who will vaccinate and inspect the physical shape of the calf. If all is well, they’ll send the calf on down to the next team, who will tag its ear.”
They’d done this method for four years now, and they all knew what to do. But Buck enjoyed playing to the cameras. Now that he had his life settled and a pretty little wife tucked up in his bed, he was pretty carefree. Happiness was written all over him, which production loved too. He got a lot of spotlights with his wife Channing.
Good. Means they stay away from me more.
While Ryder was happy for his brother, he couldn’t think of anything worse than commitment. He had enough to answer for—didn’t need a woman demanding things from him too.
Ryder looped the rope over his shoulder and smacked his gloved hands together. “Let’s get this show on the road. Wyn, you’re with me.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “Why? What joke do you have planned for me?” She walked to her horse tied along the edge of the fence. “Did you smear cow pies on my saddle?”
Grinning, he swung into his saddle. “Why would I ruin a perfectly good saddle?”
“Then what’s up? You never pick me when we pair off.” She wrapped the reins around her hand and adjusted it to fit her glove just so. She was picky about her ropes.
“I figure I’ll hide behind all that red hair and the cameras will stay off me.”
She came up behind him. “I don’t mind the cameras. You rope the heads and I call the heels. They’re harder to land.”
“Be my guest.”
“Harder to land?” Buck yelled, taking offense because he was a header.
Wynonna waved a dismissive hand like the Princess she was. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. But let’s get on with it.” Buck and the others moved down the line, taking positions.
Immediately Ryder and Wynonna circled the cluster of cows. Babies skittered closer to their mommas. Without hesitation, Ryder rode into the middle, scattering them. When he whipped around, he spotted a little brown beast ready for the rope. He whipped his lasso overhead. His brothers and the film crew hooted their encouragement. Wynonna took her position a few steps behind his horse.
Ryder tossed. The rope landed dead center of the calf’s head and he jerked it. The animal bucked its back legs to get away, and Wynonna was right there, setting her lasso on the ground and tugging as soon as the animal landed.
“They had a better time than you and Asher do, Buck!” West called. Buck shoved him.
Buck and West took over their part of the job before sending the newly vaccinated, 600-pound baby down to Lane and Ridge. Cheers went up when the calf reached the water tub and quenched its thirst.
Ryder and Wynonna shared a grin and they all got down to it. After three more calves were roped, Ryder handed off his horse to Buck. “Why isn’t Channing out here helping? I thought she loved doing this stuff.”
“She’s got a bun in the oven,” Wynonna said. Her voice carried, and everyone went dead still. From Calhouns to production, they all stared at Buck.
He spread his arms and gave an irritated jerk of his head. “What the hell, Wynonna? Don’t you think Channing and I might have wanted to deliver the news?”
“Too late now, babe. Our secret’s out,” Channing called from the fence, where their ma was hugging the life out of her.
With a resigned shake of his head, Buck mounted the horse and from the saddle declared, “We’re having a baby!”
Ryder fist-punched the air as everyone whooped and whistled. The effect wasn’t calming to the cows by any means, but celebration was in order. Ryder was just relieved not to be in the spotlight.
* * * * *
Joy leaned against the stable housing all the rodeo livestock and inhaled deeply. The sun on her face and the familiar scents of animals, hay and fried food gave her a feeling of home. She could almost envision her daddy coming off a bull, grinning. He’d throw her up on his shoulders and walk through the crowd, accepting congratulations and signing autographs.
She threw him a look now—he stood across the way talking to one of the riders he was coaching. The young pup had some small-town rodeo experience but her father was determined to build him up t
o the professional bull riders game.
Seeing how her father was one of the original founders of the PBR, he loved seeing bull riders jump into the big-time.
A pair of women in Daisy Dukes and rodeo tank tops wandered by Joy’s father and threw him coy looks. Ugh, Buckle Bunnies never change, even if Daddy’s in his sixties. She’d like to say this type of female was looking for her happily ever after with a special cowboy, but the groupies just wanted recognition. To brag to her friends about which cowboy she’d slept with.
Joy’s dad had never been into the scene, though. He’d remained faithful to her mom until she ran off with a cowboy of her own, leaving Joy to his care. Which was how she’d grown up at the rodeo—and why it felt like home to her.
“Hey, Bunny. Want to meet up after the festivities?” The drawl near her ear made her jump. She jerked away from the wall and put several feet between her and the cowboy trying to put the moves on her.
“My name’s Joy, and no thanks.”
“C’mon, sugar. You look mighty lonely standing here.”
“Are these the kinds of pickup lines going around now? Or is this all the better you can do? I’m not interested.” She started to walk away and found him striding alongside her.
She tossed him a look. Sure, he was pretty with his big blue eyes and crooked smile. Hell, every cowboy had one. The gold buckle at his waist was a homing beacon for the type of woman he thought Joy was.
“I’m not for you, cowboy,” she said.
He caught her shoulder and stopped her in her tracks. He brought his broad chest clad in new chambray close enough to her nipples that she could feel his heat. She backed up a step.
“How can you say you’re not for me when you don’t even know what I’m looking for?”
“You called me Bunny, so what you’re looking for is pretty obvious. Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you ask my father’s permission first?” She tossed her head toward her father several feet away, still coaching his young prodigy.
The cowboy swung his head around and when his eyes bugged out of his pretty little head, she couldn’t control the laugh that flew out of her mouth.
“Thunder Humphries is your father?” He released her shoulder.
She nodded. “He’s very protective of me. Doesn’t want me with a cowboy.”
The cowboy in question gave her the side-eye. He was either about to ask her to introduce him or wet his pants. She guessed the latter, judging by his age, and the way he danced from boot to boot.
She coughed to cover another giggle. At that moment her father looked up and saw her. “Trust me—you’d better move along now.”
He gave one last ditch effort, giving her moony eyes. “Before I fall in love, you mean.”
“Before you have your legs broken. Daddy’s shoulder injury’s long healed.”
Her father broke toward her, and the cowboy gave a quick nod. “Nice knowing you, Bunny.” He fled.
Joy watched him go, laughing.
“Did he just call you Bunny?” Her father hadn’t earned the nickname Thunder from being even-tempered. His brows lowered and he glared after the cowboy who’d hit on her.
“Yes, but don’t worry. I put him in his place.”
Her father shook his head and grinned. “Why don’t you stick close to me today?”
Ever since she’d grown boobs he’d hated her wandering the rodeos. He said she looked too much like her mother and men couldn’t keep their eyes off her. Sometimes not even their hands.
“I got it, Daddy.”
Besides, she may look like her mom with the same long, dark hair and gray eyes but she had her father’s strength of character. He’d stuck it out when her mother hadn’t. And he was the master of any bull he’d ever encountered. Which was how he’d won the finals several years running and won over two million dollars in his career. Back in his day, the fortune was unheard of.
She looked around at the bustling cowboys, handlers and fans. Maybe years ago when cowboys were… well more, she might have fallen for one but from what she saw now, she wasn’t impressed by any man wearing boots and Wranglers.
“I know you can handle yourself. I taught you well. Remember if anybody gets handsy, just gr—”
“Grab, twist and pull,” she finished with him, making a hand gesture to demonstrate what he’d taught her.
“That’s my little girl.”
As he walked away, she pressed her lips together. She loved his concern for her, but she was no longer a little girl. Making him see that would be as easy as tying pink ribbons around the hooves of the bulls in the chutes.
With a sigh, she followed her nose—and her cramping stomach—toward the food stalls. In her time, she’d eaten it all and her stomach was cast-iron. She could handle the hottest chili and greasiest funnel cakes. It was a good thing all the hard work she put in on the ranch kept her from weighing as much as one of the beef steers they raised.
She stood in line for a fresh-squeezed lemonade and eyed the Texas Ranger Burger shack beside her, when a deep drawl reached her ears.
“The scoring isn’t only for the rider,” he was saying.
Joy looked around and felt her ovaries clench. Now this was a cowboy she could sink her teeth into. Tall, big all over, and with the cutest flyaways of brown hair poking from the brim of his Stetson. Man enough to take care of business but with a roguish look about him that pushed Joy’s buttons.
Oh no. Not again. Hiding a rodeo man from her father had been miserable last time. And when he’d finally discovered her secret romance… Well she hadn’t been lying to that guy when she said he’d break his legs.
Quickly, she averted her gaze, paid for her lemonade and collected the cup, damp with condensation. She wandered to the next line to get her burger, still keeping her ear on the conversation.
The blonde woman asked something Joy couldn’t make out, but the cowboy’s drawl carried easily to her. This was a man in command of himself. More than her ovaries clenched this time.
“The bull scores from zero to fifty points and the rider gets the same. Many riders get zero because they lose control right out of the gate.”
Joy sneaked a glance behind her. Afraid to show that she was eavesdropping, she kept her gaze downward. Which was a terrible idea because in her field of vision was the sexiest forearm and hand she’d ever seen.
Roped with muscle and with thick veins running from elbow to wrist and down into his broad hands. His fingers were long with clean square nails.
“What can I get you?” the burger guy asked.
She looked up and almost laughed at the comical red cowboy hat atop his head and the gimmicky red bandanna around his throat. “You must be ready to keel over in this heat wearing that.”
He flashed a grin. “You know it, but it brings more customers my way. What can I get you?”
She placed her order and threw out her senses to try to hear the deep drawl that had done strange things to her body. When a burger was shoved at her, she paid for it and walked away from the booth.
She stopped dead. Face-to-face with the hunky cowboy. The blonde stood in front of him, toying with one of the patches on his shirt right over his pec. The cowboy looked past the blonde and directly at Joy.
Her heart gave a weird wobble. He’s not that great. I just have a weakness for cowboys because they’re forbidden.
“Riding bulls must be so hard,” the blonde said.
Rolling his eyes, the cowboy lightly grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away from his chest. “It’s not like painting your nails.” He looked at the pink claws on the hand he was holding and dropped it.
Joy found the urge to laugh irresistible and let it roll up her throat.
The cowboy looked straight at her and his eyes creased—God, they creased so adorably—and he pushed by the blonde to reach Joy.
Shit, now she was stuck. She’d been caught listening and there was no getting away from this cowboy even if she could uproot her boots from the dirt.
> Now that her mind had caught up to her libido, she realized she knew him. Recognized him from TV. “You’re on that reality show Rope ’n Ride.”
He groaned so low that she wondered if she’d imagined it. There was a lot of noise around them.
He reached for his hat brim and gave it a tug. “Ryder Calhoun.”
“Joy Humphries.”
He blinked at her slowly. Then he let his gaze drop from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes. She had her mother’s lips, too—“kissing” lips some guy had once told her.
“Humphries. Are we talking rodeo royalty?” His drawl was back, deeper than before and doing brand new things to her body. The energy between them zapped her in all the right places, but she couldn’t act on it.
She nodded. “My father’s Thunder Humphries.”
“Damn, should I bow to you or something?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Maybe it’s you I should bow to. A big-time TV star.”
This time his groan was unmistakable, and she got the feeling he liked his position as much as she liked being the daughter of a famous bull rider. She never could be sure if people liked her because of who her father was or for herself.
“I’d kiss your hand, but they’re both full,” Ryder said.
She remembered the burger and lemonade. “Yeah, I’d better eat and get back to work. It was nice meeting you, Ryder.”
When she started walking away, she wasn’t surprised to find him keeping step with her, but unlike the last cowboy, she didn’t mind this one. Which was dangerous.
“Back to work? What are you doing here in Austin?”
“Helping my father. He’s coaching a few rising stars.”
“Ah.” The short response gave Joy the feeling he didn’t like having more competition, let alone ones coached by Thunder Humphries.
“Why aren’t you in the PBR? You’ve got what it takes,” she said, navigating around a cluster of guys standing in the way talking.
“Hmm, your father is a founder of the PBR, right? Are you selling memberships like Girl Scout cookies now?”
She laughed again—she couldn’t help it. Being back where she belonged made her feel so free and happy. And she liked having Ryder there. His body heat washing over her side made her skin prickle, but most of all she liked what she saw under his sexy exterior. So far, he’d revealed his disdain for a silly Buckle Bunny and his fame.