Hometown Cowboy

by Sara Richardson

  The butterflies still hibernating in her chest stirred. “The corral?” As in the place where Lance would be training?

  “Yeah. Got a bunch of fences all but fallin’ down up there.” Luis cranked the handlebar and the ATV roared to life. “Gotta get ’em fixed up ’fore one of the horses gets out,” he shouted above the noise.

  He released the brake and nodded her over. Jessa moved slowly toward the ATV, like her shoes were made of lead. She’d promised to help Luis with the fences, so she couldn’t back out now. Hopefully Lance would be so busy he wouldn’t even notice her.

  She climbed onto the ATV and buckled her arms around Luis’s waist.

  Instead of peeling out and tearing up the driveway like he so often did, Luis eased the ATV along. He peered back at her. “Is there somethin’ goin’ on I don’t know about?”

  Her shoulders locked. Had he figured out this whole thing was a sham? “What do you mean?” she managed to reply without an echo of fear. Lance would kill her if Luis found out what they were doing.

  The ATV stopped. Luis turned his upper body, those wise eyes studying her. “I mean you and my boy seem to have gotten close,” he said behind a hint of a smile. “I was surprised when he asked if you could stay with me.”

  She gulped back a relieved breath. “We’re just friends. He’s trying to help me out.”

  The man gave her a nod, then turned around and they puttered along again. “I wouldn’t be put out. If it was more than that.”

  She forced a laugh but it felt like the beef jerky they’d snacked on earlier had gotten stuck in her throat. There shouldn’t be anything more. He’d backed away when she kissed him, and given the man’s reputation, anything more would only lead to heartbreak for her. “Nope. Nothing more.” The bat-shit crazy butterflies in her chest called her bluff.

  Thankfully, Luis let it go. She’d never been a good liar and had never been good at hiding her emotions, either. They always made their way to her face, out there for the world to see. Which was why she couldn’t face Luis. As soon as he parked the ATV, just down the hill from the corral, she slid off and started to unload the fence posts, working with a repetitive precision. She would not look at the corral. She would pretend it wasn’t there. She would—

  “Come on, Uncle Lance! Hold on!”

  Jessa’s head snapped up and her eyes honed in on the very scene she’d been trying to avoid. Oh, hell-to-the-no. Across the corral, Gracie stood on the second fence rail, teetering precariously on her sparkly pink cowgirl boots while she gripped the top rail with her hands. Naomi stood next to her, body set as though ready to catch her daughter. Tucker, the Cortez’s stable manager, stood next to Naomi, eyes glued to a stopwatch.

  Before she could stop herself, Jessa darted her gaze to the right and yes, ladies and gentlemen, there was Lance Cortez in all of his bull-riding glory. Chap-clad legs cinched down over the steer’s wide girth, back arched, free arm whipping over his head in a graceful rhythm. Sweat drenched his blue T-shirt, making it cling to every chiseled muscle, and that black cowboy hat on his head made him look downright dangerous.

  The maniacal bull snorted and jackknifed his body, but Lance held on, those powerful arms fully engaged, and God they had to be as big around as the fence posts she was loading. Then there were his hands. There was something so seductive about large, rugged hands skilled in the art of holding on. She’d like to bet they were skilled in other arts, too.

  A slow heated breath eased out as she thought about all of the places those hands could hold her body.

  Lance continued the dance—that’s how he made it look, graceful and choreographed—riding that steer like he owned it. In complete control.

  Wooooowwww. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  His body was actually built for this, muscle stacked on muscle, tendons as thick as ropes. The more the bull bucked, the more Lance seemed to come alive.

  Awe surged through her, nearly buckling her knees, turning her arms weak.

  The fence post dropped from her hands and slammed onto her toes. Pain shredded through her feet.

  “Ow!” she screamed as she fell to her knees to push the thing off.

  The post rolled down to the ATV.

  “Oh no!” she heard Gracie screech. “Hold on, Uncle Lance!”

  Jessa looked up. Lance had turned his head in her direction, which threw off his form. The beast below him bucked and kicked its legs in the air.

  Jessa scrambled to her knees.

  Lance was trying to recover, hands both grasping, but his body was being tossed violently. With a final snorting fury, the bull threw his head back, a horn connecting with Lance, then leaped and sent him flying toward the fence.

  “Oh God!” Jessa shot to her feet and hobble-ran the perimeter. It was horrible seeing him sprawled there. He could be dead!

  Tucker was already out in the corral, luring the bull away from Lance. Somehow Jessa managed to squeeze herself between the fence posts and sprint to him, but her foot caught a rock. Momentum pitched her forward and launched her right on top of Lance.

  His wide eyes stared into hers. They were open. And he was breathing.

  “Are you okay?” she choked out. The lingering pain in her toes throbbed with the fast pulse of her heart.

  “Of course I’m okay,” he said with an amused smile. “That’s not the first time I’ve been tossed, Jessa.”

  His eyes were so pretty. Grayish blue with heavy thick lashes.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, lifting his head.

  Oh. Right. She was still lying on him. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, rolling off to the side, then standing before he could get a glimpse of the humiliation that radiated across her face.

  Lance stood, too. His shirt was torn and blood stained the right side beneath his chest plate.

  “You’re bleeding.” She reached out to touch the wound, but he stepped back quickly.

  “It’s fine. Ball Buster caught me with his horn. Again, not the first time.”

  So back off, his movements seemed to scream. The same humiliation that heated her face traveled down her throat. She glanced around. Naomi and Gracie were staring. Luis was on the other side of the fence watching the whole spectacle. Tucker had corralled the bull and was now gazing at her and Lance, too. The same question seemed to have stumped all of them: Why had she panicked and run to him when no one else watching—even the ten-year-old—seemed the least bit concerned?

  Why indeed.

  “I’m sorry,” she half-whispered. “I mean, I thought you were hurt…”

  “I’m fine,” he said again, this time with a gruff undertone. “It’s part of the job. I’m used to it.”

  “Right. Good. I’m glad you’re fine,” she muttered, turning to slink away. “I should get back to the fence, then.” Truth was, she never should’ve left the damn fence. Never should’ve glanced at him. Never should’ve agreed to this in the first place. Her toes scuffed the dirt as she walked away from him. From everyone.

  “That was a good one, Uncle Lance,” she heard Gracie prattle behind her. “And it was so funny when Jessa fell right on top of you!”

  Yeah. Funny. Jessa kept walking. Fast. Head down, arms pumping at her sides, propelling her away from the girl’s giggles.

  She knew Naomi was behind her, and it didn’t matter how fast she walked, somehow her friend matched her stride.

  “So wow, you’re really not interested in him, huh?” the woman teased.

  Jessa stopped. Luis had started digging out a fence post nearby and he didn’t need to hear this. “Why would I be interested in him? Every time I get near him his body goes rigid like he’s terrified I’ll actually touch him. Like he might get cooties if he lets himself get too close.” She shouldn’t be interested. He’d sent plenty of vibes to ward her off. Instead she seemed to want him more. Go figure.

  “Come on.” Naomi swatted at her. “It’s no big deal. I bet no one else could tell. They don’t know you like I do.�
�� She elbowed her as though trying to make her smile. “They probably just think you’re a drama queen.”

  “Only when Lance is around.” She peeked over her shoulder. Tucker was playing chase with Gracie and Lance had disappeared. “I shouldn’t be doing this. Staying here.”

  “Lance would be lucky to have you.” Naomi hooked her arm through Jessa’s and started towing her toward Luis. “In fact, you’re too good for him. The man hasn’t had a real relationship with anyone. Ever. And you want it all. Dating. Romance. Marriage. He’s completely ignorant. Trust me.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “So what should I do?”

  Her friend pulled her in for a half hug. “Stay and help Luis,” she whispered. “And see Lance for who he really is. Not for who you want him to become.”

  * * *

  Son of a— That hurt like hell. Lance gritted his teeth and pressed a bandage into the gaping wound Ball Buster had slashed across his ribs. Somehow the bull had managed to get under his chest plate and give him a nasty cut. Not to mention that weight of a serious bruise crushing the air from his lungs.

  He latched the first aid kit and hung it back on the nail behind the stable door. When he’d heard Jessa cry out in pain, he’d turned, which gave Ball Buster the perfect opportunity to kick, toss his head back, and catch Lance with his horn. Damn it, he should’ve stayed focused. Should’ve tuned out everything else. Usually he could. Except when Jessa was around, evidently.

  “You okay?” Tucker stuck his head into the stables. “Didn’t realize you took off.”

  “I’m good.” He braced his shoulders so his voice wouldn’t wheeze. His whole chest ached like a mother, but no one else needed to know that. He couldn’t slow down on his training. Couldn’t lose a day. His longest time all morning had been six seconds and that wasn’t gonna cut it for Worlds.

  “That last one was only four,” Tucker informed him. “Not your fault. You got distracted.” The man raised his brows and looked him over. “Not like you to get distracted out there.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not used to hearing women scream,” he grumbled.

  “That’s surprising, given your revolving bedroom door,” Tucker said through a hearty laugh.

  Lance shook his head. He’d set himself up for that one. Wasn’t worth reminding Tucker that he’d grown up since his early days on the circuit. “I’m not used to hearing Jessa scream.” That was the plain truth of it. It’d scared him, the pain in her voice. Pulled him right out of the zone.

  His friend stepped into the shadows, a funny grin on his face. “I like Jessa. She’s good people.”

  “Yeah.” Clumsy, but a good person. She’d pretty much be a saint in his book if she could stick it out with his father for the next couple of weeks.

  “So…” Tucker leaned against the wall. “Somethin’ goin’ on between you two?”

  “No.” Lance dodged past him and headed out the door and into the sunlight. “Nothing’s going on.” At least nothing he needed to discuss with Tucker. “She’s doing me a favor. Staying with Dad so I can train and not worry about him.” Tucker would never give up his secret.

  “That all she’s doin’?” Tucker called from behind him.

  Lance stopped. “Yes.” He turned. “Why?”

  His friend smirked. “She sure seemed worried about you.”

  “She’s probably not used to seeing stuff like that.” Most people were shocked the first time they saw a rider get thrown. Usually it looked worse than it was. Not today, but usually. Thankfully she’d walked away before she could see how much pain he was in. Knowing Jessa, she’d force him to go to the hospital to have his ribs looked at. And he sure as hell couldn’t fit that into his schedule today.

  “Maybe I’ll ask her out,” his friend said, poking him in the ribs.

  Pain splintered through his bones. Motherfucker. Lance sucked in a breath and held it until the stabbing sensation subsided.

  “You wouldn’t mind, would ya?”

  He didn’t know if his blood ran hot because of the pain he was in or because of the smug look on his friend’s face. He shouldn’t mind. Tucker wasn’t a bad guy. He was funny, as loyal as they came. The man would do anything for anyone who needed help. But he couldn’t stomach the thought of his hands on Jessa. “She’s taking a break from dating,” Lance informed him. “Said she’s sworn off the whole thing so she can focus on the shelter.”

  “Don’t seem right. A woman as good-looking as Jessa not dating anyone.”

  “Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” He was fine with it. Her not dating anyone. Didn’t bother him none. The thought of her dating someone else? Now that was a different story. One he didn’t care to analyze. He straightened his shoulders, battling a wince. “Make sure Ball Buster is ready. I’m going again.”

  “You sure?” Tucker stared at him like he’d lost it. “Maybe you ought to call it a day. That was a nasty fall. You’re movin’ kinda slow.”

  “I’m going again,” he repeated. And this time, it didn’t matter who screamed. He would hold on for eight seconds.

  Chapter Eight

  Jessa stood at the kitchen window halfheartedly scrubbing dinner dishes in the sink while she watched the sun slide behind Topaz Mountain. She’d lived in the mountains for almost a year, but the sunsets still stunned her. Darkness had started to spread down the mountain, inviting the sky to come alive with surreal bursts of orange and pink.

  She sighed, arms and back weighted with a day of work.

  “You don’t gotta do the dishes.” Luis lumbered over to her. “You’re the guest. I can handle it.” He eased the lasagna pan off the counter.

  “Don’t be silly.” She turned to smile at him. “I actually like doing the dishes.” Strange. At home, she let them pile up in the sink until she had to do them. But here, after sharing dinner with someone, it made her happy to stand at the sink, the feel of her hands drenched in the warm, sudsy water. It was nice, not being alone for a meal. It felt more purposeful, somehow.

  “Fine, then. But I’m on dish duty tomorrow.” Luis set the pan back on the counter. His hands trembled like they had all throughout dinner. Small little tremors she’d pretended not to notice, even when he’d dropped his fork, when he’d knocked over his glass.

  Damn arthritis, he’d said, but she’d never noticed tremors before. Stiffness, sure. But not the shaking. She’d casually asked him what his doctor thought about the arthritis, if he was taking anything for it, but he’d quickly changed the subject.

  Without turning her head, she stole a quick look at him over her shoulder. While they were eating the lasagna Naomi had brought over, Jessa had noticed the signs of fatigue tugging at his eyes. They’d had polite conversation, but he hadn’t said much. The spark he’d had while hiking and working on the fences earlier seemed to have dimmed.

  She turned her attention back to the window, to the sunset. “You can go to bed if you want.” It was almost seven and they’d had a full day. Back when her father was alive and she’d visit, he’d always fall asleep in his chair after dinner. Until she woke him and sent him off to bed. “I can finish up here.”

  “You sure you don’t mind?” Luis shocked her by saying. She’d expected an argument. “After all that work, I’m done in for the day.” Weariness softened his typical gruff tenor.

  Jessa shook the water off her hands and turned. “I’m sure. I’ll finish up in the kitchen, have a cup of tea, and probably head to bed myself.” Well, maybe not bed, but a little book therapy. After the whole debacle with Lance, she’d downloaded a new book on her Kindle. You Don’t Need Him: How to Make Yourself Believe It. It had gotten three and a half stars…

  “All right, then. See you in the morning.” Luis plodded out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

  Jessa did her best to sigh out the concern that knotted her stomach. Luis had every right to be tired. He was almost seventy, after all. The man had earned the right to go to bed before eight o’clock at night. She snatched another pl
ate off the pile, plunging it deep into the sink and scouring until the last bits of tomato sauce had been cleaned off.

  Outside, the shadows had deepened. Instead of brilliant colors, the sky had muted into a rose-tinted softness, the mountains forming a jagged, dark silhouette. Inhaling the crisp, wood-scented air through the open window, she finished up the last of the dishes and swiped a towel from the stove to start drying.

  A click sounded at the back door, interrupting her soft humming. Lance walked into the kitchen, still dusty from his day out in the corral, although it appeared he’d changed into a clean T-shirt.

  “Hey.” She tried to say it casually, but the quick ascent of her heart made her voice effervescent.

  “Hey.” He looked around the empty room. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He seemed tired,” she said, focusing hard on drying the dish in her hands so she could avoid the insta-blush that plagued her when she looked directly into his eyes. “Are you hungry? I can reheat some of Naomi’s lasagna…”

  “Nah. I’m fine, thanks.” He walked over and leaned against the counter next to her. “How’d today go?”

  His nearness sent her heart spiraling. Damn infatuation. “Things were good,” she murmured. “Great actually.” Minus the memorable scene of her tackling that man right there. But it was best to make this conversation strictly business. “We were out on the mountain for a good three hours and there were no problems at all,” she reported.

  “Good. That’s great.” Lance stuffed his hands into his pockets and simply stood there gazing at her.

  Which made her work extra hard on drying those plates. When she’d finished and stashed them in the cupboard, Lance still stood there. She couldn’t take the silence anymore. “So I’m sorry about the whole falling on you thing,” she babbled. “I didn’t mean to, it just looked like you were hurt—maybe even dead—and I kind of panicked, which I now realize was ridiculous, but at the time I didn’t think it through…” Stop talking. Please stop talking. But her mouth rarely obeyed her brain. “I didn’t mean to land on you. I tripped,” she said, as though he’d demanded an explanation. “There was a rock and I didn’t see it and—”