His Valentine Bride

by Cindy Kirk

  Ryan’s hand ran down her leg as he checked her seat. “What did you say, sweetheart?”

  She didn’t know why he’d started calling her his sweetheart, but she liked it. It made her feel connected to him in a very personal way.

  “Hey, Ryan.” Heidi—or whatever her name was—suddenly appeared holding a bottle of beer loosely between her fingers. “What’s up with this? You can’t possibly think she’s going to stay on.”

  Betsy lifted her chin. “I can make it eight seconds.”

  Heidi’s peal of laughter felt like a swift slap. “Honey bunny, I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t a real bull. Fifteen seconds is what most people do on this one. You’ll be lucky to make it two.”

  “Don’t listen to her.” Ryan’s voice took on a hard edge and his gray eyes were cold as steel. “We’re a little busy here.”

  The woman’s gaze drifted from Ryan to Betsy, then back to Ryan. “So that’s how it is.”

  “Yes,” Ryan said firmly, “that’s how it is.”

  Flipping a strand of long blond hair over her shoulder, Heidi flounced off.

  “I’m going to embarrass you,” Betsy said, suddenly miserable.

  Surprise flickered in Ryan’s eyes.

  “Hey, Harcourt.” The bored voice of the ride operator interrupted. “This ain’t no pony ride. Let me turn it on or get ’er off.”

  “Shut up, Hank.” Ryan didn’t even look in the burly man’s direction. Instead his gaze remained on Betsy. “Do you want to do this?”

  Betsy didn’t want to be on the bull. Didn’t like having all these people staring at her. But what Ryan said had struck a chord. Our lives are only as boring as we make them.

  It was as if her life flashed before her and she realized she’d been living in shades of brown. A careful, well-ordered life designed to not draw attention to herself lest anyone compare her with her mother.

  But her mother was dead and she was alive. And Betsy suddenly realized she didn’t want to be brown. She wanted to be red and purple and the vibrant orange that sometimes colored the skies over the Tetons.

  “Betsy—” Ryan’s hand closed over hers “—it’s your decision. What do you want to do?”

  “Turn it on.”

  * * *

  Ryan started having second thoughts when he saw Betsy’s legs shaking. This was supposed to be fun. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m ready.” Betsy gave a decisive nod.

  The resolve in her voice reassured him. And her legs had almost stopped shaking. He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Let me give you a couple of pointers.”

  Ryan went on to explain the importance of squeezing with her thighs, of using her leg muscles to “root” her to the bull. Then he checked her grip and nodded his approval.

  “Try to relax your upper body.” Even as he said the words, a shiver of unease traveled up his spine. He knew that most riders got rolled off when the ride operator had the bull bow down in front and the rear tipped up. “When the bull leans forward you lean back. Use your free hand for balance. Move with the bull instead of against it.”

  He almost made her get off. The fear that she would be hurt hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. But she looked so determined, so brave, he couldn’t take the chance away from her.

  “I can do this,” Betsy vowed, tiny beads of perspiration dotting her brow.

  “I know you can.” He leaned over and kissed her. Not a peck on the cheek either, but one designed to make her toes curl.

  “What was that for?” she asked, her eyes wide and oh so beautiful.

  “For luck.” He winked. “Turn ’er on, Hank.”

  * * *

  At first, being on the bull reminded Betsy of riding one of those horses they used to have sitting outside the supermarket. If you put in a quarter, it would go up and down with a gentle rocking motion.

  For a second, she felt confident enough to smile. This isn’t so bad.

  Then the front of the bull took a nosedive. Thankfully Betsy had her legs pressed tightly against the sides of the mechanical animal or she’d have been tossed onto the cushioned mat right then. She remembered what Ryan had said and leaned back, waving her hand in the air for balance.

  Had that “Yeehaw” really come from her throat?

  Just as quickly as the bull lunged forward it rocked back. Betsy kept her upper body fluid and her lower legs tightly gripped.

  Calls of “Ride ’em, Betsy” filled the air. Exhilaration fought with fear as the bull gave it everything he had to buck her off.

  It was the wildest ride she’d ever been on, but thanks to Ryan’s tips, she was prepared. When the fifteen seconds was up, Betsy was almost disappointed her time in the spotlight was over.

  As the crowd roared its approval, a cowboy she didn’t recognize plopped his black Stetson on her head. “Congratulations, cowgirl.”

  Betsy smiled, feeling as if she’d just been crowned Miss America.

  Ryan pulled her into his arms and, with everyone watching, gave her a big kiss. “That’s my girl.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Betsy saw Heidi turn and meld into the crowd, a sour look on her face.

  “You did good, babe.” Ryan’s eyes looked like liquid silver in the light. “Full fifteen seconds.”

  “I had fun.” Betsy’s breath came in short puffs. “I can see why you liked riding bulls. What a rush.”

  He slung an arm around her shoulders and the crowd parted before them.

  Betsy couldn’t believe all the congratulations she received, most from people she’d never met. “Adrianna is going to tell me I was crazy to do it,” she said, her words running together in excitement. “She doesn’t like anything connected with rodeo.”

  But when they reached the table, it was just Tripp waiting there, a worried expression on his face.

  “Where’s Adrianna?” Betsy asked, glancing around.

  “She didn’t feel well,” he said. “She ran to the restroom right after you left to ride the bull. She hasn’t come back.”

  Betsy glanced at Ryan.

  He smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “I’m going to check on her anyway.”

  “If you need anything—” Ryan began, but Betsy had already disappeared.

  As Ryan dropped into the chair, he realized his heart had finally settled into a normal rhythm. All those years he’d rode bulls, his mother had rarely come to watch. She’d told him it was too hard for her to sit there and worry. He’d never understood. Until tonight.

  Watching Betsy on the back of the mechanical bull had been almost painful. Intellectually he knew if it tossed her she wouldn’t be hurt. Wally’s cushioned floor surrounding the bull would see to that. But it wasn’t his head that had been stressed seeing her rockin’ and a rollin’; it was his heart.

  While he’d wanted her to stay on so she could experience that thrill, it had taken everything he had not to pull her off and hold her close, hating to take even the slightest chance that she could be hurt.

  It hadn’t been his legal assistant on the back of that bull. It hadn’t been his childhood friend’s sister. It had been the woman he loved.

  Ryan sat back as the realization washed over him. Even though it sounded corny, he knew Betsy was the one he’d been waiting for his whole life.

  “You know, even if the hospital doesn’t offer me the job, meeting Betsy made coming back to Jackson worth the trip,” Tripp said.

  His friend’s words and who Tripp was referring to suddenly registered. It almost sounded as if he was smitten with...Betsy. But that couldn’t be true.

  “I understand you and Adrianna have kept in touch.”

  “Adrianna and Gayle kept in touch through the years,” Tripp said in an offhand tone. “She’s merely a friend.”

  “Well, Betsy is more than a friend to me.” Ryan met the other man’s gaze.

  Ryan’s irritation soared when Tripp laughed. “Don’t tell me she’s your new flavor of the day? Last tim
e we talked it was Adrianna. Make up your mind, man.”

  “Betsy is the one—”

  Ryan stopped as Betsy and Adrianna walked up. The tall brunette’s eyes were watery and her skin unusually pale.

  “Adrianna isn’t feeling well,” Betsy began.

  “The stomach flu has been going around the office,” Adrianna said with a weak smile. “I’m sorry if I exposed you.”

  “Do you need help?” Ryan started to rise from his seat.

  Betsy waved him back down. “We’ll be fine.”

  She took off the cowboy hat still on her head and handed it to Ryan. “If you could return this to the proper owner, I’d appreciate it.”

  Ryan took the hat. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but now wasn’t the time or the place. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Betsy,” Tripp said, then shifted his gaze to Adrianna. “Take care of yourself.”

  “We better go, Betsy.” Adrianna’s pale complexion now looked almost green.

  As the two hurried off, Ryan watched them go. The statuesque brunette and her solicitous friend. The woman he’d thought was “the one” and the woman he loved.

  * * *

  After taking her friend home, Betsy had barely opened the door to her apartment when the same bug hit her.

  She spent that night and most of Saturday alternating between the bedroom and the bathroom. Puffy watched her from the hall with worried eyes. But when Betsy awakened Sunday morning to the ringing of her phone, she realized that for the first time in almost thirty-six hours her stomach felt normal.

  She fumbled for the phone she’d flung onto the bedside stand sometime yesterday. “Hello.”

  “I’m picking you up for church in forty-five minutes.”

  Betsy pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. “Who is this?”

  “Who do you think it is? Ryan.”

  “Good morning, Ryan.” He’d called several times yesterday but she’d been in no shape to talk to anyone.

  “Why didn’t you return my calls?”

  “I was, uh, incapacitated with the same bug that hit Adrianna.” Betsy plumped up several pillows and sat up in bed. “I’m better now.”

  “You should have told me.” Concern filled his voice. “I’d have brought you over some chicken soup or something.”

  “Trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to be here.”

  “I could have taken care of you,” he insisted. “Or at the least kept Puffy out of your hair.”

  Betsy glanced at the small red Pomeranian. Other than demanding to be fed and taken outside on schedule, the dog hadn’t been much trouble. “Puffy was no problem.”

  “Well, consider this fair warning. Next time you don’t answer my calls, I’m coming over,” he said. “I don’t like it that you were home all alone and sick.”

  Her heart rose to her throat. “Well, I’m better now.”

  “Good. I’ll have the truck nice and warm for you.”

  Where had he said he wanted to take her? Ah, yes, to church.

  “I don’t attend Sunday services.” Betsy had gone a couple of times with friends when she’d been small. But once she realized God really didn’t answer prayers, she hadn’t been back.

  “It’ll be fun.” He spoke with such enthusiasm that she found herself believing him. “It’s casual, so you don’t need to dress up. Afterward we’ll go with everyone for breakfast at The Coffeepot. They have bland things—like oatmeal—on the menu, too, so you should be able to find something to eat.”

  Betsy was familiar with the café in downtown Jackson. It was known for its hearty country-style breakfast fare. But who was Ryan referring to when he said “everyone”? She knew church wasn’t on Adrianna’s agenda. “Will Tripp be there?”

  Silence filled the other end of the line. “Probably not. Does that make the difference?”

  “No,” she said, surprised by the edge to his voice. “I was simply curious who ‘everyone’ was.”

  “It varies from week to week,” Ryan informed her. “Usually Lexi and Nick Delacourt, David and July Wahl, Travis and Mary Karen Fisher, and Cole and Meg. If they’re in town, Derek and Rachel Rossi usually show up, too, as well as a few others.”

  Although Betsy was acquainted with everyone Ryan mentioned, she didn’t run in their social circle. Of course, there was no reason she couldn’t get to know them better. And perhaps get to know Ryan better in the process? After all, hadn’t someone once said that to know a man, you just need look at his friends? “How long do I have to get ready?”

  “Forty minutes.”

  Betsy swung her legs to the side of the bed and stood, already eyeing her closet. “Okay. And, Ryan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For caring that I was sick and offering to come over.” She kept her thanks simple, not wanting to be maudlin. “I haven’t had anyone who cared for a long time.”

  “Well,” he said, “get used to it. Now you do.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sitting beside Ryan in church felt oddly intimate. When he opened the book in his hand for the next song, Betsy smiled. After the opening hymn, she’d discovered Ryan had a surprisingly good voice and that their voices blended together as if they’d been singing harmony their whole lives.

  She wasn’t so much conscious of the words as she was the beautiful melody. Life was certainly strange. When Betsy had tumbled into bed last night, she’d never thought she’d be sitting in a church this morning.

  As they sat down, Ryan took the book from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers, lingering for an extra beat. Electricity traveled up her arm. He must have felt it, too, because his eyes met hers. For a second she thought he might kiss her right then and there. If that wasn’t shocking enough, she had a feeling she’d have let him.

  Someone read some scripture, but Betsy scarcely noticed. It was as if there was a bubble around her and Ryan and they were the only two in the room. When he reached over and took her hand, she curled her fingers through his and expelled a happy sigh.

  Betsy knew she should ask why he hadn’t mentioned inviting Adrianna, but she didn’t want to spoil her fantasy. For just this morning she wanted to pretend that Ryan wanted her and no one else.

  “Grace is something needed but not deserved,” the minister intoned.

  The sermon this morning appeared to be centered around forgiveness. It was a topic Betsy preferred not to think about. Those who didn’t know her relationship with her mother, who didn’t know all she’d endured growing up, often spouted the forgiveness talk. But Betsy was having none of it today.

  She’d heard all about forgiveness setting you free, but she already felt free. And how could she forgive a woman who’d never asked for her forgiveness? Who’d gone her merry way through life, hurting all those around her? Who’d even at the time of her death been in a destructive mode?

  Betsy hated that the preacher had a voice that was hard to ignore. But she did her best, concentrating on the feel of her hand in Ryan’s, on his muscular thigh pressed up against her in the packed pew.

  Dress casually, Ryan had said. Thankfully she hadn’t tossed on a pair of jeans like she’d considered when she’d hopped out of her superquick shower. Instead she’d chosen a wraparound tweed dress with brown boots and tights. Ryan had whistled when he’d seen her. For a second she’d felt beautiful.

  Actually he was the one who was beautiful in his dark pants and gray sweater. And the way he smelled...so good she couldn’t stop thinking of that time he’d crawled under her covers. If she had him there now, she’d make sure they did a whole lot more than just talk.

  “Time to stand.” Ryan tugged her to her feet.

  She rose, her heart pumping hard and fast, unable to let go of the image of him in her bed, a visual that seemed stuck in her consciousness.

  The minister offered a benediction. When he quit speaking Betsy realized she’d sat thr
ough her first church service in over five years. Other than the forgiveness part, it had been bearable. Ryan kept hold of her hand as they exited the pew. It was then that the horde descended.

  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a horde. But close. Ryan’s friends seemed to come out from the woodwork.

  “When did you and Ryan start dating?” Mary Karen Fisher had pulled her blond hair back in a bouncy ponytail, making her look more like a college student than a mother.

  Betsy had always liked Mary Karen. She was as upbeat and friendly now as she’d been back in high school. Which was amazing considering she had five small children at home, four of them boys.

  “We’re not actually—” Betsy began.

  “Just started,” Ryan said before she could finish.

  Betsy inhaled sharply.

  “You’re a good match for him.” Lexi Delacourt, a prominent social worker in Jackson Hole, nodded her approval.

  “What makes you think that?” Betsy asked.

  “Call me for drinks sometime—” Lexi winked “—and I’ll tell you why.”

  “Lexi,” Meg Lassister called out, “we’re heading over to The Coffeepot to get a table.”

  “You guys are coming, aren’t you?” Mary Karen asked.

  Ryan placed a hand on Betsy’s shoulder. “We’ll be there.”

  The two of them slowly strolled out of church. The sky was a bright blue and the sun shone warm against her face. Ryan was telling her a story about when Lexi’s husband came to Jackson Hole, got caught in an avalanche while skiing the backcountry and lost his memory.

  The tale was so unbelievable that she wondered if Ryan made it up. Or maybe this was all a dream. It felt like one. Ryan calling her for a date. Being so attentive.

  She looped her arm through his. If this was a dream, she was going to enjoy every minute of it.

  * * *

  “Oh, no,” Betsy said when they drew close to The Coffeepot. “There’s a line.”

  “No worries.” Ryan smiled and edged his way through the crowd, then led her through the maze of tables to a large one in the back. “See? Cole and Meg got the table.”

  Betsy recognized another one of the couples already seated. Joel Dennes was a prominent contractor in town. His wife, Kate, was a pediatrician. She was also one of Ryan’s former girlfriends.