by Jeannie Watt
IS THIS HIS HOME?
Single mom Annie Owen is so busy raising her twin girls, there’s no time to focus on the “single” part…until rugged Trace Delaney temporarily moves nearby. Annie’s interest in Trace is more than neighborly, but she can’t risk losing her heart to a bull rider on the move.
Trace is a rolling stone. Or so he thought. Settling down suddenly seems a lot more appealing if it’s with smart, gorgeous Annie and her girls. But they deserve someone they can count on. Is Trace ready to be that man, or will he run from the only place, and the only woman, that ever felt like home?
“You should come by my place.”
Annie regretted the words the instant they left her lips. How was it that she felt so self-conscious?
Maybe because of that dream you had about him last night?
“Are you all right?” Trace asked.
“Hmm?” She innocently shifted her gaze to his handsome face.
Silence fell between them and Annie did her best to focus solely on her girls, but it wasn’t easy when she was so aware of the guy leaning on the fence a few feet away. And it was even more difficult when he said, “Would you like to go riding sometime?”
“Is that an invitation?”
“It is.”
“Because you’re looking for company?”
“Partly.”
“The other part?”
His gaze traveled over her in a way that warmed her. “Because I wouldn’t mind going riding with you.”
Dear Reader,
What happens when a man who believes he’s destined to live his life alone gets involved with a single mother and her twin daughters? That man’s life gets turned upside down, that’s what.
Trace Delaney’s childhood consisted of one upheaval after another, and he grew up believing he wasn’t meant to stay in one place for long. His career as a professional bull rider serves him well. He’s always on the road—or rather, he was, until he agrees to take care of a fellow bull rider’s ranch while recovering from surgery. That’s when Annie Owen and her seven-year-old twins enter Trace’s life. He doesn’t want to get involved with the family. Truly he doesn’t. But he discovers that resisting gentle Annie and her girls is even harder than staying on a rank bull for eight seconds. Now he has to make the hard decision as to whether to stay or go.
As a bull rider’s sister, Annie knows that stuff happens in life and you have to work your way through it or around it, but she’s never come up against anyone quite as stubborn, or as attractive, as Trace. She’s determined to make a stable home for her girls, but she also feels a strong desire to convince Trace that just because he never has stayed in one place for long, it doesn’t mean that he can’t.
I loved writing Trace and Annie’s story, which is the second installment of my Montana Bull Riders miniseries. I hope you enjoy the story.
Happy reading!
Jeannie Watt
THE BULL RIDER’S
HOMECOMING
Jeannie Watt
Jeannie Watt lives in a historic Nevada ranching community with her husband, horses, ponies, dogs and cat, Floyd. When she’s not writing, Jeannie loves to horseback ride, sew vintage fashions and, of course, read romance.
Books by Jeannie Watt
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
Montana Bull Riders
The Bull Rider Meets His Match
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
The Brodys of Lightning Creek
To Tempt a Cowgirl
To Kiss a Cowgirl
To Court a Cowgirl
The Montana Way
Once a Champion
Cowgirl in High Heels
All for a Cowboy
Once and for All
Maddie Inherits a Cowboy
Crossing Nevada
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
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To Bill Swanson—this bull-riding
romance is for you!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from Sunrise Crossing by Jodi Thomas
Chapter One
“Mom!”
“Just a sec, honey...” Annie Owen squinted at her sewing machine, trying to turn a tight corner. Just a few more stitches and—
“Mom!”
Annie jumped from her chair, recognizing the something’s-about-to-explode tone in her daughter’s voice just as she heard the awesome sound of water spraying against...something. She raced into the kitchen, skidding to a stop to gape at the stream of water shooting wildly out of the tiny utility room and hitting the hallway wall.
“Get back,” she automatically ordered her seven-year-old twin daughters, who were inching closer to the utility room, green eyes wide. Picking up a towel from the laundry basket and using it as a shield, she approached the wild hose that had broken free from its clamp during the rinse cycle and was now shooting water in all directions. She made a grab at it just as the doorbell rang.
“Peek through the side window and see who that is,” she called as she made another grab at the hose. She caught it but now that she had the spewing hose, what was she going to do with it? She had to turn the water off somehow and she couldn’t reach the faucet behind the washer.
“Stranger,” Katie called. “A guy.”
Great.
Annie opened the washer lid and tried to jam the hose inside but it instantly came free, banging the lid open and spraying her full on, soaking her hair. Sputtering, she wiped her hands over her face and slicked back her hair.
“He looks like a cowboy,” Katie said. “He has a black hat just like Uncle Grady’s.”
Great. Mystery cowboy.
“Give me a second.” Something she was saying way too often of late. Since taking the job at a local Western boutique and putting in all the hours she possibly could, she seemed to be one step behind the action, playing catch-up. But she loved her job. Truly she did. Finally she was gaining financial ground, and that felt great.
She wiped her face on the wet towel then tried to turn off the faucet, but it refused to budge. Finally she wrapped the towel around the hose, which stopped the spraying but not the flow. Muttering a word that the girls weren’t allowed to hear, much less say, she made her way out into the living room, marched to the door and opened it as far as the chain would allow. The guy standing on her porch, wearing a hat that really did look exactly like her brother’s, was tall, dark and unsmiling. In fact, he looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. The feeling was mutual. She wanted him somewhere else, too.
“Can I help you?” she asked with more of a clip in her voice than she intended.
“Uh,” the guy said, looking over her head at the waterworks going on behind her. The towel had come loose. “Maybe I can help you.”
And let a man she didn’t know into
the house? She thought not. “I’ve got it,” she said dismissively.
“I don’t think so.”
Annie jerked her chin up. “Do you need directions?” She was about to close the door in his face so she could deal with her flood.
“I’m Trace Delaney.”
Annie blinked at him through the cracked door. She knew the name from the bull-riding circuit, but had no idea why the guy would be standing on her porch. “Grady’s on the road.”
His frown deepened. “I know. I’m watching Grady’s place for him. Or I guess it’s really his girlfriend’s place. He asked me to stop by and check in with you after I got here.” Once again he looked past her at the water. “Where’s the water main?”
“Cellar. I can get it.” She didn’t like his take-charge tone, and as far as she knew, Cliff Fife was watching Lex’s place, as he always did when the couple traveled together. Her brother was very good about keeping her apprised as to what was going on in his life, and he hadn’t said one word about a change of plans. Or about a fellow bull rider “checking in” with her.
“You sure?” Trace pointed his chin at the water behind her. Annie wanted to look but didn’t.
“Positive.” He was most likely Grady’s friend as he said, but until she knew what was going on, the guy wasn’t coming into the house. Besides the stranger-danger factor, there was something about him that made her feel slightly off center. It was a discomforting feeling. “I’m used to handling this kind of stuff alone and I really need to get at it. Maybe we can talk some other time.” She gave him a tight smile and stepped back, getting ready to close the door.
The man opened his mouth as if to argue then seemed to change his mind. He gave a cool nod and turned to head down the porch steps toward a black Ford truck. Annie shut the door and twisted the dead bolt before he’d hit the last step and raced toward the cellar. She could debate her level of rudeness later, after the water was turned off.
“Let me know when he drives away,” she called to the girls. “Do not open the door.”
“He’s driving away,” Kristen called as Annie started down the cellar steps.
Excellent. A few minutes later she trudged back up the stairs, thinking that she needed to keep a wrench next to the main. That faucet was hard to turn. And the one behind the washer—that one needed a blowtorch.
Now the aftermath.
“There’s a lot of water.” Kristen edged up to stand beside her while Katie walked barefoot back and forth through the puddle in the hall.
“Lot of water,” Annie agreed, propping her hands on her hips. She tried hard to face all disaster with equanimity. The girls needed to see that panic helped nothing.
“Why didn’t you let the man help?” Katie asked midsplash.
“Because I don’t know him.” She didn’t even know if he was really Trace Delaney, although she couldn’t think of one reason why a guy would pretend to be a bull-riding friend of her brother. She’d have to do a Google search as soon as she got her house dried out. She rarely watched bull riding, preferring to get her stress in other ways, so she hadn’t a clue as to what Trace Delaney looked like.
“He’s Uncle Grady’s friend.”
“That’s what he says, but how do we know for sure?” Annie dropped the towel she still held on the encroaching water, stopping the flow into the kitchen. Lately the teaching moments seemed to be happening with alarming regularity.
“Oh,” Kristen said. “He might have been trying to fool us.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
She tried to be matter-of-fact. She didn’t want her daughters to grow up frightened—merely sensible. Kristen was a little too fearless; Katie a bit overly cautious. She’d love to edge them both toward a happy medium.
“Girls, why don’t you get the bathroom towels? I think this is beyond mopping.”
When she was done sopping up water, she was going to call her brother and find out why he hadn’t told her someone other than Cliff was watching Lex’s place and why that someone was checking in with her. It might all be very innocent, but she was getting a bad feeling...like maybe Grady was trying to fix her up, or, at the very least, getting her a watchdog. She did not need a fix-up and she certainly didn’t need a watchdog. She understood that her brother was trying to make up for the time he wasn’t there for her as he built his career, but what he didn’t understand was that she had been fine handling her life on her own then, and she was fine handling it alone now.
* * *
SO MUCH FOR DUTY.
Trace hadn’t been wild about checking in with Grady’s sister from the beginning, but he’d agreed to do so because Grady had been nice enough to offer him a place to stay while he recovered from the shoulder surgery that had put his career on hiatus. Emphasis on hiatus. His career wasn’t anywhere near over.
But why Grady thought his sister needed looking in on was beyond him. If she handled the waterworks with the same cool efficiency with which she’d handled him, she was probably already mopping up the damage.
If she wasn’t...well, he had offered to help.
He slowed as he approached a fork in the gravel road and checked the GPS. Left. He’d never been to this part of Montana, but within a matter of minutes, the GPS successfully guided him to Grady and Lex’s small ranch. The property was located almost five miles from that of Grady’s sister, so there wasn’t much of a chance of him accidentally encountering her while he was running or riding.
As he pulled into the driveway, he half wondered if that was a good or bad thing. No, he hadn’t wanted to check in with her, but now that he’d seen her, he had to admit to being somewhat intrigued. The steely glint in her eye as she’d quickly assessed his unworthiness had contrasted sharply with her small, almost delicate stature, her full mouth, the soft blue of her eyes. The front of her light brown hair had been soaking wet and slicked back from her forehead, accentuating the angles of her face, but when she turned to check on her girls, the hair that swung to the middle of her back looked as if it would feel like silk.
He let out a soft snort. If he ever tried to touch her hair, to see if it really did feel like silk, he’d probably find himself on the wrong end of a judo hold or something. Grady might be concerned about his sister, but Trace’s first instinct was that, small as she was, she could take care of herself.
Three dogs jumped at the fence when he parked his truck next to a classic GMC pickup. Lex had written their names down and he’d have to match them up to their descriptions as soon as he did a quick check of the other livestock. There was a pen of ducks and several horses grazing in the pasture. All the troughs were filled and the ducks seemed to have plenty of food.
When he returned to the truck and pulled his duffel out of the backseat, a white-and-black cat sauntered out from behind a tree and approached, getting close but not too close.
Felicity. He remembered that name. He’d once dated a Felicity. It hadn’t ended well. Hopefully he and the cat would get along better. The cat probably wasn’t going to demand that he find a new occupation.
The dogs greeted him with a mixture of suspicion and joy. Yay, someone is here to feed us! But...who is this guy?
Whoever he is, I hope he feeds us!
“I’m your new roommate,” Trace murmured as he headed up the walk with the entourage of sniffing pooches and one mildly interested feline. He unlocked the door and opened it. To his surprise, the dogs didn’t rush in. Instead they plunked their butts down on the porch and stared at him. Lex ran a tight ship.
“All right, you can go in,” he said, gesturing toward the inside of the house. He probably didn’t have the right command, but the dogs seemed to have understood. They raced past him into the living room and then he waited as the cat took a few slow steps forward then trotted daintily past him.
A neighbor by the name of Cliff had taken
care of the place for the past two weeks, and all the animals had been fed for the day. Lex had written detailed feeding instructions and drawn small maps showing him where everything he would need was located. She’d offered him the master bedroom, but after taking a quick tour of the shipshape house, he decided to sleep in the extra room, which, judging from the horse show ribbons on the wall and the collection of rodeo buckles lined up on the bookshelf, had been Lex’s childhood room. He dropped his duffel and sat on the bed to take off his boots. Long, long day; long, long drive.
He rubbed his sore shoulder, squeezing slightly to test the depth of the pain, and winced. For once he was going to follow doctor’s orders and take it easy for at least another week. An ornery brockle-face bull named Brick was waiting to test him at Man vs. Bull in December, and he was determined to come out on top. Three times he’d tried to ride Brick and three times he’d failed. Not only did he want the purse, which would make up for all the events he was missing while he healed, he also wanted vindication.
To do that he’d have to allow himself to heal fully. He just hoped his head didn’t explode from frustration before that happened.
* * *
IT TOOK MOST of the evening to chase Grady down. Both his and Lex’s phones kept going to voice mail, and Annie began to wonder if he was in an emergency room somewhere. Bull riders tended to spend inordinate amounts of time being checked out by medical personnel, so she was starting to get truly concerned when on the sixth call he answered the phone. “Annie. Is everything all right?”
“I was about to ask you the same. Why didn’t you guys answer?”
“No cell service in Calico Valley. We just now drove into range. You called...five times? What’s up?”
“Who’s watching your place?”
“Trace Delaney is taking over for Cliff. I take it he stopped by?”
“He did. Why didn’t you warn me? He came at a rather inconvenient moment and I wasn’t all that cordial.”
“I’m sorry, Annie.” Grady did indeed sound sorry. She could almost see him slapping his forehead. “We threw this deal together at the last minute and then I had a bad ride at Livermore. After that I drove like the wind to make it to Calico...sorry.”