by Claire Adams
“Is that something ranchers do? Go to rodeos?”
He gave me that little smirk that I couldn’t get enough of, just a small lifting of one side of his mouth. That together with his freckles was enough to drive me insane. I wanted to kiss him so bad I could taste it.
“Not all ranchers, but enough of us.”
“I’d love to check it out. I even bought a plaid button-up shirt and a cowboy hat the other day when Eric took me into town. I’d look like a real cowgirl.” My face got even redder at that, as though a simple outfit change could make me look like I was from around here. Still, I looked pretty damned good in it.
He chuckled at that, the sound staying trapped behind his closed mouth, and my cheeks burned hotter. “I’d pay good money to see you in a cowboy hat.”
“Take me to the rodeo, and you’ll get your chance.” I tried for my best come-hither stare, but he stayed planted in his chair, his green eyes pinned to mine. “How long is it here?”
“A few days.” He sat back in his chair, seeming deep in thought.
My mind was racing, same as my heart. He looked interested in the prospect of the two of us going to the rodeo together. Would that be a date? It felt like I was getting too far ahead of myself, which I was known to do, but it also felt right. If we left the farm together, that was technically a date. Or at least that’s what I planned to call it inside my own head.
“Are you really interested in going?” he asked, lifting his dark eyebrows as he studied my face.
I was nodding before he even finished speaking, and that started a blush creeping up from my neck. He didn’t seem to notice, so that saved me some instant mortification, though I was sure I’d catch up later. That was just how I rolled.
“Yes, I’d love to go. I want to experience everything that I can while I’m out West.”
He watched me for a second longer and then nodded himself. “I can take you tomorrow if you’d like."
A bright smile sprang onto my face. “That sounds great.”
“I’m not much of a rodeo guy. I went a few times when I was growing up, mostly with friends, and mostly ‘cause we just wanted something to do on the weekend that wasn’t working on our parents’ property. But I’ve known some folks who are heavily involved in the rodeo, and I dated a woman for a while who was a barrel racer, so I went a lot to support her. It can be fun. ‘Specially the races.”
I felt a stab of jealousy at his words that was ice cold, sending a chill shivering through the rest of my body. If I’d been able to fool myself before into thinking that I didn’t have a thing for Cash, the bile that shot up into the back of my throat at the thought of him with another woman made that impossible now. I rearranged the sour expression that had taken over my face before I spoke again. Luckily, Cash didn’t appear to have noticed that anything was wrong.
“Oh, yeah? That must have been interesting.” It was a struggle to speak in such a light tone of voice, but I managed. “Do you still see a lot of her?” I had no business asking, but if I left it be, I’d never be able to sleep tonight with the constant rumbling of my imagination.
He shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her in a while. Hard to stay with someone on the rodeo circuit when you ain’t in it yourself.”
That was good to hear. The jealousy uncurled its icy fingers from my heart, though I was still sick at the mention of an ex-girlfriend, not that I’d expected him never to have dated anyone before. I just didn’t want to hear about it.
“What’s involved in barrel racing anyway?” I asked. “I’ve never even heard of it.”
He leaned onto the table, propping himself up on his elbows. “It’s an event that’s judged solely on speed. You run your horse in a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels set up in a triangle.” He demonstrated by moving the salt, pepper, and one of our cups into position. “You come out the gate as fast as you can, and maneuver the horse around one of the barrels up front. Tina always went left first, then the one across from it, and then the one in back. After you break out of that, you go back to the start and cross over the sensor in a bigger rodeo. In a smaller one, it’s an official with a colored flag.”
I made a mental note to see if I could find some videos of these competitions on YouTube. How strange that people did stuff like this on purpose.
“Can you make a living off of being part of a rodeo?” I asked.
Cash nodded, his emerald eyes moving over my face in what I hoped was an admiring way. “Oh, yeah. Plenty of folks do. But that means nonstop travel. And if you don’t have the stomach for that, which I don’t, the rodeo life ain’t for you.”
“What else happens at these rodeos?” I envisioned bucking broncos and pissed off bulls. Those were the images that popped into my head when I considered the word rodeo.
“All kinds of things,” he replied, sitting back in his chair again and resting a big hand on his trim belly. That brought back memories of the time I’d seen him shirtless and pouring water over his head. Not getting video of that would probably prove to be the greatest tragedy of this trip. “Roping. Riding, both bulls and horses, barrel racing, mutton busting for the kids. It goes on for a couple a days.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I’d love to see the barrel racing you were talking about, but I don’t want to see animals roped and ridden against their will.”
He had a good chuckle at that, his whole face lighting up so attractively, that I didn’t take offense that this laughter was at my expense.
“What?” I asked, smiling myself.
“Sometimes when you say something, it’s so damned obvious you ain’t from anywhere around here. Like there’s just something different in the water out in New York.”
“I just don’t want to see animals get hurt,” I said teasingly.
“They can get hurt barrel racing too, if the rider takes them around a barrel too fast.” When he saw the alarm on my face, he swallowed back his lingering smirk and quickly added, “But that don’t happen very often. You can rest easy.”
I relaxed a bit in my chair. I hadn’t realized how nervous I was at the thought of watching some poor animal getting injured as part of a completely unnecessary show.
“What’s your favorite part of the rodeo?” I asked.
He turned his pretty eyes up to the ceiling as he thought a moment. As soon as he had an answer, he looked back at me. “I s’ppose I like the barrel racing best. Could just be from all my time with Tina.”
That jealousy was back in my gut, stabbing with multiple knives, the ice racing through my insides.
“The food’s good too,” he said, a smile sneaking onto his lips. “If you’ve ever been to a carnival, it’s about like that.”
“We do have those on the other coast,” I said, and he chuckled.
“I got a few tasks to handle before we can go, mostly tending to the animals, but we can leave late in the morning before it gets too hot.” A smile crept back onto his face as his green eyes widened. “Think you can manage rising before noon tomorrow?”
I overdid my offended expression, and his smile widened. “Listen, I’m perfectly capable of rising before noon, thank you. Today, for example, I was up by 10.”
“That’s certainly an improvement,” he said. “If you stayed for a year, we might eventually be able to have coffee together in the morning.”
I laughed at that as my cheeks blazed. Was he inviting me to coffee? That might be worth getting up at 4 in the morning to attend. I could always go back to sleep afterward. It wasn’t like I had to go work on the farm all day. I made another mental note to set my alarm and surprise him one day.
“Ten o’clock tomorrow,” he said, rising from his seat to start collecting the dishes.
“It’s a date,” I said easily, but put meaning behind those words.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cash
The Next Afternoon, Late August
Hailey didn’t get up early enough to join me for my breakfast cup of coffee and matching pieces of b
uttered toast first thing in the morning before I headed out to the ranch to take care of the animals, but she was up and dressed by 9:45, even if she didn’t look particularly happy about it. I could appreciate that. There were plenty of times I found myself wanting to go back to bed, even after all these years of keeping the exact same schedule—early to bed and early to rise. Whether it was making me healthy and wise was another matter. I knew for damned sure it wasn’t making me wealthy.
“You doing alright?” I asked on our way out to the truck. She looked like she was sleepwalking as she climbed into the passenger side, her eyes unfocused and squinting, her face creased on one side with marks from her pillow.
She yawned as I started the truck, covering her mouth with one hand. “Sorry. I got on a roll last night and didn’t want to go to sleep until I’d had the chance to get all my ideas out on paper. I was up until almost 4.”
I stared over at her, my mouth nearly hanging open. I’d been getting up around 4 for decades, but I went to bed at 9. Staying up late for me meant waiting until 10 to hit the hay.
“Are you sure you want to go today? It’ll still be in town tomorrow.”
Her light eyebrows lifted at the offer. “Will we still be able to see the races?”
I shook my head. “They have both rounds today. Tomorrow will be something else.”
She yawned again as she shook her head. “No, let’s go today. I really want to see the barrel racing. I just need some coffee. As soon as we pass a place where I can get some, I want a monster cup.” She indicated how big around she wanted the cup, and it was the shape of a large tree trunk.
I laughed at that and pulled out of the dirt driveway, hooking a tight U-turn and going out to the main road. By the time we got there, Hailey was asleep, her head lolling against the window. I didn’t want to disturb her—she looked so peaceful, like she was having sweet dreams—so I just kept my eyes on the road and didn’t even cut on the radio. The scenery was enough to keep me occupied. It wasn’t a long drive out to the fairgrounds. Only about an hour or so. I drove it in silence, going around Jackson to get to the other side.
We arrived at the fairgrounds and parked before Hailey woke up. It saved me the trouble of shaking her shoulder. I regretted not getting to do that, as it occurred to me that I hadn’t touched her at all past our first handshake on the day she arrived. I’d been so pissed at Eric that day, that I barely thought about it while I was doing it.
“We’re here,” I said when she looked over at me with fuzzy eyes.
She stretched her back and twisted in her seat, her back popping once. “How long was I asleep?” she asked, her voice husky with the last of her sleep.
“Only about an hour. But now you should be well-rested for the rodeo.” I climbed out of the car before she could answer, going around the front of the truck to wait for her to get out. We had plenty of time to get to the arena for the barrel racing. I’d planned to show her around a little before we sat down, but I amended that to include swinging by a vendor for a few cups of coffee before we did anything else, as the poor woman was in dire need. I led her to the first one we saw after entering the fairgrounds proper and watched with amusement as she dumped cream in the extra large cup and knocked it back.
“That’s better,” she said, smiling with relief. It didn’t quite work like magic, but between that and the nap, she didn’t look like she was still walking in her sleep anymore. By the time we reached the arena, she was back to her old self again, chattering away about how she was going to include a few scenes in her book about a rodeo. She hadn’t quite gotten that part worked out yet, but it was interesting to hear her talk about it.
“That must be a nice talent to have,” I said after we’d gotten in the slowly moving line into the arena.
“What do you mean?” she asked, looking up at me, the sunlight glinting off her wire-rimmed glasses so I couldn’t see her eyes.
“I love to read, but I couldn’t put my own story together to save my life.”
She smiled at that, her cheeks turning red like they always did when I paid her a compliment. I liked to make her smile, but I really loved that flush of color.
“It’s something I’ve always been able to do, even when I was a kid. Like you and riding horses.”
I had to laugh at that. “There’s nothing I can do on a horse that you wouldn’t be able to do if you stuck with it for a little longer.”
She gave me a sly, knowing grin that reminded me a bit of Eric, who I hadn’t heard much from since our skirmish out in front of his house. I had to remember to run by there tomorrow when I was in town picking up supplies from the feed store. We’d agreed there were no hard feelings, and maybe he was just keeping away while I figured out what was going on between me and Hailey, but it wouldn’t hurt to stop by. He wasn’t just my oldest friend, but the only person I spoke to most weeks outside of the girl at the bookstore and the staff at the supply store. That had changed since Hailey arrived, of course. Now I told her most everything besides how I felt about her, which I understood was the definition of irony.
Hailey bought some fried and sugared dough balls from a traveling vendor on our way into the arena.
“Want one?” she asked on our climb up the steps, offering the paper cup of doughnut holes.
I shook my head and waved them off as she tried again to get me to take one. “I had breakfast a few hours ago.” I couldn’t keep my lips from cracking into a grin at the disappointed way she looked at me before grinning herself.
“Party pooper.”
We found some good seats near the top and middle of the arena. I wanted her to be able to see everything, and this position would give us a bird’s eye view. We sat down next to each other, her shoulder brushing my arm, her curly blonde hair tickling my bare skin. She didn’t wear it loose very often that I’d seen, but today it was a mane of crazy curls poking out from under her hat and stretching all the way to the middle of her back, even more golden than Eric’s hair. That together with her blue eyes and gorgeous smile made her a knockout in my estimation. Not to mention how much I was liking the look of her in more country attire—her plaid shirt, jeans, and cowgirl hat. All she needed was a broken-in pair of boots. I had to remind myself not to stare. I put my eyes on the middle of the arena, where the barrels had been arranged in a large triangle.
I pointed out the open gate on the far side of the arena, and Hailey turned to look.
“That’s where the riders will come in. This rodeo’s one of the bigger ones that comes through the state, so they’ll be using the sensor. That’ll give a more accurate time.” I pointed out the barrels next, going over the way things would go for a second time, just show she’d know what to expect.
She seemed enthralled by what she was seeing, her blue eyes wide behind the lenses of her glasses as she took everything in with an author’s focus. She took a small notebook from her purse that I’d gotten used to seeing stuck to her hand over the last month. She opened to a fresh page and began to scribble some notes as I talked.
The announcer’s voice thundered through the arena, drawing everyone’s attention away from their private conversations, including ours. He welcomed us to the qualifying round of the barrel racing competition, telling us the finals would be the following day.
Hailey had set aside the last few fried dough balls and scooted to the edge of her seat. “I thought you said all the races would be today,” she said, not looking away from the arena.
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “But I didn’t look at the schedule.”
“There’s where the internet would come in handy. I bet it’s on the event page.” She shot a smile my way that I couldn’t help but return. I pointed to the arena again, and she turned to look down that way.
“It goes fast,” I warned her, leaning in so she’d hear my voice over the announcer introducing the first rider, a woman named Andy Stark from Texas who I’d seen ride a few times before. She was good, but not great.
Ha
iley nodded, not taking her eyes away from the arena below us.
All of a sudden, Andy came shooting out of the gate, leaned down low over her thoroughbred’s neck. She broke right first, slowing just a little to bring her horse around the first barrel before crossing the distance to the barrel in front of it and going around it as well, hooves kicking up dust. Andy leaned so far down, she was almost hugging the horse’s neck. They went around the final barrel at the rear, and Andy straightened up, encouraging her horse into a dead run for the finish line. As soon as they passed it, Andy rubbed her horse’s neck, grimacing at the announcement of her time. Nineteen seconds.
Hailey looked over at me, eyes wide. “Is that a good time?”
I shrugged. “It ain’t bad. She was riding too low in the saddle.”
Hailey frowned, not understanding, but turned back to the arena instead of questioning me further, not wanting to miss a thing.
The next woman was announced, a newcomer I’d never heard of before, Darcy Lopez, who was only 19. She came shooting out of the gate, sitting up straighter in the saddle than Andy had, her horse moving smoothly to the left barrel first, moving around it quickly, dirt flying. They raced to the second barrel, coming around it tightly, the precision impressive, especially for such a young rider. She led her horse around the final barrel, leaning so far to the side, I expected her to go toppling out of the saddle with the horse falling on top of her. But she kept her balance, kicking the horse into full speed across the finish line, the announcer declaring her time at just over 18 seconds just after she raced out of sight.
“Wow!” Hailey cried, grinning over at me, her blue eyes blazing. “This is amazing!”
I watched her for the next few rounds instead of the riders. I’d seen all of it before, more times than I could count, and it was much more entertaining to see the effect of the competition through her eyes and expression. We sat in the stands through the rest of the qualifying round, letting Hailey get her fill. After it ended, she bent over her notebook, which she’d completely neglected during the racing itself, and starting furiously scribbling down her notes. It took about five minutes before she was finished, and she had an entire page of filled with her slanting, messy handwriting.