Instead of coming across comical, he looked quite. . .kissable.
Rayna swallowed hard. “You’re on. Ribs it is.”
“I knew it. You’re a risk taker. I like that in a gal. Besides, they give you a wet wipe to mop up with after you’re done.”
Jittery and extremely self-conscious, she sat at a picnic table while he ordered, waited for their food, and paid.
Instead of sitting across from her, he sat beside her. Butterflies took flight in her stomach. He blessed the food, and she liked him even more.
Rayna tried to strip the meat from the bone with her plastic fork.
“Just dig in.” Clay winked.
She sank her teeth into a juicy rib with sweet and tangy sauce dripping. “You were so right. These are the best ribs I’ve ever had. The meat is so tender it falls off the bone.”
“You’ve got sauce on your chin.”
She giggled as he used his napkin to wipe it off for her.
After the ribs, turtle cheesecake on a stick made Rayna’s nervousness ebb.
“So, you own a dude ranch. What else do you do?”
“I teach Sunday school, and I’m a church usher. I don’t curse or drink.”
This cowboy stood behind his convictions. Impressive.
“And I ride bulls.”
A shudder moved through her.
“You cold?”
“I’m fine.” For some reason, ever since she’d seen that huge bull at the fair, the mere thought of it gave her a deep sense of foreboding. She shrugged it off. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
“It can be. But darlin’, don’t you know? I’m ten foot tall and bull proof.”
The drawled endearment put some heat back in her flesh. “What else do you do?”
“Ride broncs.”
“Is there a rodeo tonight?”
“Rodeo is a year—”
“Round sport in Texas. Do you win?”
“At the moment, I’m at the top of the standings in bull riding. I got into the big-time rodeo just to buy the dude ranch, but somewhere along the way, I got addicted.”
She wanted to ask what could be addicting about a bull but decided she’d shown enough ignorance of his sport.
He took a swig of root beer. “Have you ever been to a rodeo?”
She shook her head.
“Even as a kid? Watched one on TV?”
“My dad and brother hate rodeos, and I don’t watch much TV. When I do, I hate sports so much I put a block on those channels.”
A perplexed frown marred his forehead. “Tell me about being an ad exec.”
“I was still in college when Adam got me hired on at Bradley & Associates as a photographer. After I got my visual arts degree, I climbed the ladder to art director.”
“And from the way your eyes just lit up, you love it.”
“It’s fun taking a product or a personality very few people have heard of, coming up with the right angle, and watching the public embrace it.”
“Do you have a card? I might be able to use your services. My sponsor’s wanting some publicity.”
“Sure.” She dug around in her purse, passed him a card, and glanced at her watch. “It’s after one.”
“Do you turn into a pumpkin at two?” He winked.
She felt the blush. Where had the time gone? “I’m eager to get my quilt and see what else I can find.”
He held out his hand. “Allow me.”
Allow him to swagger his way under her skin? Her fingers slipped into his.
❧
A few hours later, Clay helped her carry her purchases. Several items of jewelry, a throw pillow to go with her quilt, and a miniature pulpit decorated with lace and ribbon with a small open Bible on top. The perfect Christmas gift for Gabby.
As they crossed the street and headed around the block, early October evening air sent a shiver over her. Or maybe it was Clay.
“I wish we could stay longer, but I’ve got the rodeo tonight.” He put his arm around her shoulders, stirring the erratic rhythm of her heart to a frenzy. Her mind went blank.
Think of something to say. Anything to get her mind off his nearness. How come every time they were alone and close, she went mute?
They stopped beside her car.
She held her breath when he brought the back of her hand to his lips. A tingling sensation moved up her arm.
“What’s your brother got against me?”
“It’s not you.” But Adam’s ire did seem a little more extreme than usual. She leaned against the driver’s side door. “He’s a bit overprotective.”
“I think there was more to it.” He kicked at something unseen with the toe of his boot.
“You two should have a lot in common.” Unlike us. “He wants to retire someday and own a ranch. I’m city through and through.”
“I’m more interested in you. When can I see you again?”
“Are you sure you want to?”
“Our lifestyles are different, but opposites attract.” He aimed another mind-spinning grin at her.
“Yes, but there should be some things in common, too.”
“We’re both Christians. We share the same values.”
“The most important thing. But what else?” She tipped her bottled water to her lips.
“Let’s be right up front about things. I’m looking for a wife.”
three
Rayna sputtered and almost choked. She was getting used to his boldness, but this line of conversation messed with her pulse. “That was certainly right up front. Do I have to answer now or can I think about it?”
“I don’t mean in the next few months or even six. I just want you to know my intentions. I believe dating is a way for us to find a partner for life. I’d like to have the basic 2.5 children and live in a cabin in the woods a few acres away from the dude ranch. But how do you have 2.5 children? Just make it three.”
He’d named off everything she couldn’t dream of. The distant twang of the music got louder for a moment then faded again.
“How about you? Are you looking to get serious?”
As her heart clamored in her chest, she cleared her throat. “Actually, I don’t want to get married. I’d like to concentrate on my career, upgrade to a town house nowhere near the woods, and I don’t want children.”
“You don’t?” A confused frown furrowed his brow as if she’d suddenly sprouted extra arms. He gazed up into the sky. “Why not?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I just never have. When I was a kid and the neighborhood girls played house with their dolls, I never got into that.”
“Then why did you agree to today?”
His charm, his eyes, his swagger. “I don’t mind dating.”
“Just so it doesn’t go no further. What about when you’re old and gray? Think your career will keep the loneliness at bay?”
She swallowed the fears clogging her throat. “I’m only twenty-five. Maybe I’ll be ready to settle down by the time I’m coloring my hair.” The lie tasted bitter. “I guess this isn’t going to work, huh?”
He dropped her hand. “Guess I shouldn’t invite you to the rodeo.”
A tense silence shrouded them, and she got into her car. “Well, thanks for a fun day.”
“Yeah.”
Oh, if only she could dream of marriage. Children. This man might just be worth it.
❧
Rayna stared at the Dallas skyline outside her office window.
“How could you?” Gabby’s voice came from behind her.
She swung her chair around. “What?”
“I’ve waited all week long. All week long, and you haven’t said a word. Don’t you know I’m dying to know how your date went?”
Such drama tugged a grin out of her. “Actually, I had a great time.” She frowned.
“Really?” Gabby perched in the burgundy wingback facing Rayna’s mahogany desk. “Then why don’t you look happy? Did he ask you out again?”
> “Yes, but it didn’t work out.”
“So work around it.”
“We have insurmountable differences.” Rayna closed her eyes. “He wants a wife and kids.”
“I’d nab him. Not many men are into that.”
I’m not into that. I can’t be.
“In the meantime, we’ve been summoned to Adam’s office.”
“Why?”
Her friend shrugged.
“We’d better go find out.” Rayna slid her feet into the bronze-colored heels under her desk. Smoothing her coppery silk jacket and skirt, she followed Gabby to the office at the end of the hall.
Gabby tapped on the door, and Adam beckoned them inside. A man decked in a western suit, complete with white-stitched seams, sat in an art deco chair.
Behind his black desk, Adam’s fake smile didn’t cover the real scowl behind it. “Ah, here they are. Mr. Thornton, this is Gabrielle Curtis, our copywriter, and Rayna Landers, our art director. Two of our best execs. They’ll make Clay Warren a star, even outside rodeo circles.”
Rayna stifled a gasp.
Gabby’s eyes widened.
She’d kill him. Not really, Lord. He’d said his sponsor wanted publicity and asked for her card. But she never dreamed he’d call after they’d decided to go their separate ways.
Adam’s jaw clenched. “And as a result, every woman and girl will want their men and boys to wear what he’s wearing.”
“Nice to meet y’all.” The man removed his hat. “I’m Clay’s publicity manager. Call me Billy. Like Billy Bob Thornton, only my middle name ain’t Bob. It’s Joe. Anyway, we wanna put our Champion Bull Riding star and Cowboy Western Wear on the map. I want everyone to know who he is, what he’s wearing, and where to get it. From the most rabid rodeo fan to the most disinterested, sophisticated debutante on Rodeo Drive.”
The door opened behind them, and Rayna turned to see the man of her recent dreams.
Clay’s hair was mussed. A dark smear marred his cheek, and matching grime soiled his clothing. Despite the grunge, her heart still sped.
“Sorry I’m late. Had a flat tire.”
“I was wondering.” Billy slapped Clay on the back. “Usually, ol’ Clay here is early. The most reliable cowboy I know. And clean, too. Usually.”
“What’d I miss?”
“This here’s Adam, Gabrielle, and Rayna. They’re our new advertising team. Meet the man of the hour himself, Clay Warren.”
“Actually, I’ve met everyone except the pretty brunette.” He wiped his hand down the side of his jeans and offered it to Gabby.
Out of character, her friend blushed. “You can call me Gabby.”
Guess he has that effect on all females.
Adam glared.
“Nice to meet you, Gabby. Adam, good to see you again. And Rayna, of course.” He nodded in her direction.
“What we need is some sort of slogan.” Mr. Thornton spread his arms out as if describing the big fish that got away. “Something bigger than life, like Clay himself.”
“Ten foot tall and bull proof.” Rayna hadn’t meant to utter the words aloud.
All eyes turned to her. Clay flashed a crooked grin that jolted her heart.
“You know, I like it.” Mr. Thornton tapped his chin with his index finger. “Much ado’s been made about Clay’s height. Most bull riders are under six feet. Use that. Build a whole campaign around it. And make sure you keep this little lady on our team.”
Great. Just great.
“Let’s go to the conference room.” Adam stood. “We can spread out and work more efficiently there.”
“Gabby, show Mr. Thornton and Mr. Warren the way. Rayna and I will be there in a minute.” Adam ushered the others out into the hall.
“Mind if I find a little boys’ room and try to spruce up?” Clay held two grease-covered palms up.
“It’s right around the corner.” Gabby led the way.
Adam sighed as the door closed behind them. “Are you seeing him?”
“We went out once but learned we don’t have much in common. Are you my father or my brother?” I’m not a teenager.
“I don’t like him. Never liked those cocky types, daring enough to make moves on your little sister right under your nose. And now he’s flirting with my. . .with Gabby.”
My Gabby? “He didn’t make moves on me, and he’s not what you think. He’s a Christian.”
“He hired this firm to get closer to you.” Adam rubbed the back of his neck.
“I don’t know why he came here.” Rayna shrugged, keeping her tone even, despite the tremor in her soul.
Adam framed his hands in the air, outlining the imagined headline. “Weekend Warrior—Champion Bull Rider. We didn’t even have to work for this account. I guess we should embrace what’s landed in our laps.”
❧
An hour.
One whole hour in the same room with Clay.
Rayna scanned the numerous notes sketching out the initial ad campaign littered across the long walnut conference table. If only Clay would go, maybe she could think straight.
Instead, he sat directly across from her.
“What’s a weekend warrior?”
“There’s your cowboys who travel with a certain rodeo all season.” Clay cleared his throat. “Then there are your weekend warriors, the ones who, due to home, family, or business, don’t travel far. They rodeo on weekends only, close to home. My dad won the Texas Circuit Finals and National Circuit Finals four years in a row.” His tone had a humble awe to it.
Adam flipped through Clay’s press release. “You’ve won the Fort Worth Stockyards Finals and the Horizon Series three times, and the CBR World title twice. Impressive.”
Clay’s posture changed, shoulders sagged. “Last year’s injury kept me out of the gate for the world title. But I have a feeling—this year—it’s gonna be my year.”
“At the top of the standings for CBR World,” Mr. Thornton reminded. “The top five riders in the Horizon Series are eligible to compete in the CBR Cinch Tour, a televised tour that airs on the Great American Country network. The Cinch finale determines the CBR World Champion.”
“No wonder CWW decided to publicize you.” Gabby sipped her coffee. “What is CBR?”
“Championship Bull Riding.” Clay shifted in his chair, seeming uncomfortable with Billy’s list of his accolades. “It’s an organization that promotes pro bull riding. Friday nights at the Cowtown Coliseum are CBR sanctioned and part of the Horizon Series.”
“So all the riders there are pro?” Rayna kept her gaze on her notes.
“It’s an open rodeo. Local talent, just starting out, pro—it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to qualify. You just ride if you want to. A unique place where everybody gets a shot at their dream.”
“We’ll need tickets for your next rodeo.” Adam closed his files.
“Done.” Clay dug several tickets from his pocket and set them on the table. “Saturday night.”
“Ten foot tall and bull proof. Brilliant.” Mr. Thornton smacked Rayna on the back so hard her teeth rattled.
“But I didn’t—”
“Brains and beauty.” Clay winked at her from across the table.
Adam shot Clay a glare. “I’ve got a meeting. Gabby, I’ll trust you to keep an eye on. . .things.”
“It looks like Clay’s in good hands.” Mr. Thornton checked his watch. “I better get.”
“Thanks Billy. I’ll call you with the details.” Clay pushed his chair back, massaging the back of his neck. “Could somebody direct me to the nearest coffeepot?”
“I’ll get it.” Gabby shot Rayna a grin.
“If you’ll kindly tell me where it is, I can wait on myself.”
“It’s not a problem.” Gabby scurried out.
Clay scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “How many commercials are we doing?”
Rayna stood and propped her hands on both hips. “What exactly are you up to?”
“Nothing. CWW was looking f
or an advertising firm. Thought persuading them to hire yours would be good for both our careers.” He rounded the long table, stopping uncomfortably close to her.
“But. . .” We decided not to see each other anymore.
He shrugged. “You gave me your card, so I looked up your work on the Net. You made that NASCAR guy a household name last year. Seems this company is one of the best.”
She pinched the dull ache at the bridge of her nose. “How did Adam get involved in this? We have several other creative directors.”
“Now I didn’t ask for him. Don’t know how he got in the mix, but we’re all adults. There’s no reason we can’t buck it up and work together. He should be happy.” Clay splayed his hands, palms up. “I didn’t get the girl.”
She turned away, closing her eyes. “You’re right. We’re professionals.”
“Did I get enough tickets? Got anyone else who might want to come?”
Mustering her resolve, she turned back to face him and scooped up the tickets.
“This is fine.” She read the address. “The Fort Worth Stockyards? Sounds familiar. Is that at the fair?”
“It’s a historical district, sort of an Old West town.”
“I remember now. Originally part of the Chisholm Trail Cattle Drive.”
“They have a cattle drive there twice a day. Cowtown Coliseum held the first indoor rodeo in 1918 and introduced bull riding in 1934.”
“That actually sounds interesting.” Except for the bull riding part. “A good place for a photo shoot. Could we shoot at a live rodeo there?”
“If you must.” Clay shoved his hands in his pockets. “What do you have against the fair anyway? You liked the Peanut Festival.”
“I like the fair. Just not the stench, the grease, or the music.”
He laughed. “Let me guess. Your brother took you to see the pigs and other critters then tried to feed you?”
Rayna shivered. She could almost smell the livestock.
“Did you ride any rides?”
“No. Adam has motion sickness.”
“Allow me to show you a good time at the fair.” He took off his hat and held it to his chest. “Tell you what. I’ll meet you at your place, say three o’clock, and we’ll head to the fair and spend a few hours then on to the rodeo from there.”
Rodeo Dust Page 3