All Night with the Cowboy

by Soraya Lane

  Her family had been right—Tanner wasn’t the man for her. Loving him wasn’t enough, it never had been.

  Chapter 19

  One Month Later

  TANNER had never been so nervous in his life. He was pacing, his heart was racing, and he couldn’t draw in enough air to fill his lungs. What the hell did he think he was doing? What was he trying to prove?

  “You look scared as hell,” a voice said from behind him.

  Tanner looked over his shoulder, wondering who was getting in his space when he was trying to prepare. Then he realized who was standing with his hands shoved into his jean pockets, watching him.

  “Well, if it isn’t the old man,” Tanner teased. “Ryder goddamn King. You’re lucky you weren’t mobbed coming back here.”

  Ryder was grinning as he strode over, hand outstretched. “Couldn’t miss the chance to see a good comeback,” he said, clasping Tanner’s hand and slapping his back at the same time. “They’re calling you the second-chance cowboy.”

  Tanner stared at Ryder. “You’re fucking with me.”

  “Nope. There’s even some cute-as-hell college age girls out there with a sparkly sign stating exactly that. I kid you not.”

  Tanner’s chest tightened again and he flexed his wrist, grimacing. He knew he shouldn’t be competing if he didn’t feel right, but hell, half the guys out there were bandaged up to their eyeballs. He wasn’t ready to give up the sport he loved, and if he didn’t get back into it now, he wasn’t sure he ever would.

  “You’re all healed up, or that wrist still giving you hell?” Ryder asked.

  It was one thing lying to his family and dodging their questions, but when a former pro like Ryder King asked the question, knowing exactly what it felt like to be staring down the barrel of a ride like he was? Lying wasn’t an option.

  “It’s—I don’t even know how to describe it—it feels sticky in the joint,” Tanner said, flexing it again and making a fist. “I don’t have full strength there like I used to.”

  Ryder looked around. “You got a bag with tape in it? I can strap it up for you, get it good and tight, and you can powder and glue up.”

  Tanner jogged over to his bag, pleased with how easily he was able to move now. The wrist was the only thing left still bothering him.

  Ryder studied his wrist, feeling it and turning it over, before putting the tape between his teeth and pulling it out.

  “I’ll do it nice and tight, but you know you’re only asking for trouble if you keep at it without healing properly first, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.” Tanner listened to the roar of the crowd, knew the clock was counting down until his ride and he needed to get ready. His head was all over the place and he needed to sort his shit out before he stepped anywhere near that damn bull.

  “You’re on that mean bastard Thunder Cat again today, aren’t you?”

  Tanner had been seeing that damn bull in his sleep and it was driving him crazy. “That’s the one.” He’d been mighty unlucky to draw him again so soon.

  “He’s just a bull, no different than any other out there. Don’t overthink it, and get the hell away from him when you come off.”

  Tanner met Ryder’s gaze. Ryder had been the best bull rider around in his day, and he appreciated the pep talk.

  “And then come find me for a beer afterward,” Ryder said.

  “So we can commiserate?” Tanner asked with a laugh.

  “No, so I can tell you that the best part of being a bull rider is retiring, you fool.” Ryder tipped his hat and pointed toward the action. “Quit while the going is good, that’s my advice. Now get out there and have the ride of your goddamn life.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Deadly.” The set of Ryder’s face told him he wasn’t kidding around. “I’m no saint, but being home with my girl and being on the other side of the ring is a damn sight more enjoyable. Once you give up the adrenaline rush, anyway.”

  Tanner blocked out what Ryder was saying, not wanting to even hear the word “retirement” with the battle he was facing. And when he walked toward the chute, the roar of the crowd in his ears as they cheered for whatever poor bastard was riding for his life in the ring, everything disappeared from his head. He climbed up and looked down, hearing the heavy, snorting breath of the bull that had almost killed him.

  Thunder Cat looked up, throwing his head, and Tanner caught his eye.

  “Time for second chances,” he murmured, waiting for his name to be called, clapping powder between his hands, before slowly easing himself down onto fifteen hundred pounds of mad, wild flesh.

  The accident flashed through his mind; the stabbing pain; the bite of torn flesh; the searing, vomit-inducing crack that still echoed through him whenever he thought about that day. And that goddamn bull spinning around and staring at him before goring him on his way past.

  Go away, he ordered.

  “And next up we have former PBR grand champion and one of the highest-earning bull riders of all time, Tannnnnn-er Ford!”

  Tanner sucked back a breath, his lungs on fire as he eased down. His legs were shaking until they were against the bull, fingers tight through the rigging as he settled in, ready for the fight of his life. His body was feeling good, his pulse was racing, and he was as pumped as he’d ever been—it took him back to his first ride when he’d believed he was invincible and couldn’t wait to climb aboard a big goddamn bull and show the crowd watching exactly what he was made of. He’d hated the Ford tag when he was growing up, and bull riding had been his way to prove to the world that he could make it on his own, that he was stronger, tougher, and more talented than anyone gave him credit for. And to show his family that as much as he liked his trust fund and the perks that came with being part of the Ford dynasty, he didn’t need family money in order to survive. To thrive.

  The signal went and the chute opened, and all Tanner could hear was the huff and puff of the wild-as-hell beast beneath him. He spun and whipped around, bucking wildly, and Tanner counted in his mind, ready to scream as he held on like he’d never held before. His body was flung back and forth and he dug his fingers tighter, refused to loosen his grip, refused to let the bull get the better of him a second time. He could do this—this was his comeback, and no one, not even this son-of-a-bitch bull was going to take his moment away from him.

  Eight. The last buck sent him flying, but he’d done it! Tanner flew through the air and landed roughly on his feet, stumbling as he tried to correct himself. The clown was doing his job, but Tanner looked back and saw him charging, knew the bull wanted to smash him into the ground and gouge him all over again if he was given half a chance.

  Tanner was hauled back and he leapt up, scrambling up the wooden side fence and tucking his boots up high.

  Fuck you, Thunder Cat, he thought, watching the sleek black bull charge around the arena as the crowd went crazy. You didn’t get me today, and you won’t get a goddamn chance to get me again, either.

  Tanner inhaled the familiar rodeo smell, absorbed the addictive feeling of being in the arena with thousands of fans screaming and clapping and watching the sport they loved. He flexed his hand and experienced the familiar, jolting pain. It wasn’t bad most of the time, but he could sure as hell feel it right now after the stress he’d just put his entire body through.

  He might love being a bull rider, but Ryder was right. The best thing for a guy his age, after so many years at the top, was bowing out on a high. He had never wanted to accept defeat before, but it was time to retire. And it was no one’s decision but his own, and that’s why it finally felt like the right thing to do. When he’d been asked before what else he had left to prove, it had rubbed him up the wrong way fast, but faced with his father’s mortality and what he’d decided he wanted from the future? It was time.

  Before he climbed down on the other side, Tanner waved to the crowd and fist-pumped the air. The announcer was running through his ride, hyping up how well he’d done, and Tanner hoped h
e’d done well enough to win. If this was his last ride, it had better have been enough to beat the young riders who’d been chasing his tail for the last couple of years. He’d always loved seeing the new up-and-comers, the way they didn’t give a shit and believed they’d bounce when they hit the ground. Hell, they probably did bounce the first few times, their bodies more lithe and unbreakable than the older guys on the circuit, but only the odd one ever climbed the ranks and managed to succeed big time. But it was time to move aside and let someone else take his place, and he was ready to cheer them on instead of gritting his teeth and competing alongside them.

  Bull riding had been his everything, but he’d had a change of heart, and if he’d learned anything over the years, it was that following his heart, not his head, was always the better decision.

  * * *

  “Dad?” Tanner called the second he’d pushed the big oak front door open at River Ranch. “Dad?” he repeated, kicking his boots off and heading into his father office. He wasn’t there. He heard the faint sound of a television down the hall and smiled. His father was definitely home.

  “Hey, Dad,” he called out, not wanting to startle his old man.

  “Tanner? Aren’t you supposed to be riding a bull?”

  He laughed. “I rode him already.”

  “And instead of having a night out you decided to come back home? How did you even get back here so fast?”

  Tanner poured them both a drink, whiskey on ice, and passed one glass to his father as he sat on the chair opposite him. His father took it and reached for the remote, turning the TV off and facing him. He’d been single-minded about getting home as fast as he could, and now he was here, exhaustion was starting to gnaw at him and his ankle and wrist were killing him, so it was a relief to be sitting with his legs stretched out. He was also hoping the drink would numb the pain and discomfort a little.

  Tanner held up his glass and leaned in to clink it against his father’s, before taking a small sip. The familiar burn in his throat put him at ease as he sat back.

  “What are we drinking to, son?”

  “My retirement,” Tanner replied, not missing a beat and surprising himself how quickly the words came out.

  “Your retirement?” Walter repeated.

  “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, ever since your diagnosis, and the timing feels right. It’s been a long time coming and it’s taken me awhile to get my head around it, but I’m ready.”

  He watched as his father took another sip, shaking his head as a smile slowly spread across his lips. “You know my treatment was successful, don’t you? I might not be around as long as I’d like to be, but I’m not dying. You’re not getting rid of me that fast!”

  Tanner held up his drink again. “To your health,” he said. “And you’d better stick around for a while yet, because I’m planning on doing my MBA first before joining the family business. Thought I’d better add some letters to my name to make me sound more legit.”

  Walter grinned. “Well, damn, I’ll drink to that!”

  Tanner slowly sipped his drink, feeling like a weight had lifted from his shoulders that’d been pushing him down for weeks. He’d made the right decision, and it had never been so clear as right now.

  “What’re you watching?” he asked.

  Walter picked up the remote again and tossed it to him. “Nothing much. Find us a movie or something decent to watch, would you?”

  Tanner couldn’t remember ever sitting in his father’s den and watching a movie with him, hell, he couldn’t remember spending a Saturday night in with him period, but it was nice. He laughed to himself as he flicked channels. Maybe he was finally growing the hell up.

  * * *

  Lauren sat at her parents’ dinner table, smiling as her father finished pouring the champagne for his girls, and lifted her glass high. She loved nights like these. Her sister’s family, her mom and dad, all gathered together eating great food and drinking something equally as good—it was her perfect kind of night.

  “When does work start to get busy for you?” her father asked. “Do you have time for a game of golf with your old man?”

  Lauren and Hannah exchanged glances, like they had when they were girls and their father had suggested something deadly boring or had forgotten what they liked and didn’t like to do.

  “Sure thing, Dad,” she said. “But how about we just go for a hike instead?”

  “Patience, my love, patience,” he said in his dad voice. “Once you stop rushing and start enjoying the game, you’ll learn to love it.”

  “Seriously, being a mom doesn’t give you an automatic card to get out of golfing,” Lauren hissed to her sister.

  “Oh, Lauren was just telling me the other day that she was starting to love the games with you. Perhaps you should do a few extra holes next time?” Hannah said.

  Lauren kicked her sister under the table, ready to kill her. She loved spending time with her dad, she did, but golf? She took a gulp of champagne to commiserate.

  “What courses are you enjoying?” Fred, Hannah’s husband, asked.

  Lauren turned to Hannah and was about to chastise her when there was a knock at the door. Her mother looked as surprised as she was that someone had come by to visit.

  “You expecting anyone?” she asked her mom.

  “No, not tonight. Would you mind seeing who it is?”

  “If it’s someone wanting money or selling something, tell them to take a hike!” her father said. “Unless it’s a neighborhood kid. I always give them a few dollars if they’re fundraising.”

  Lauren got up, drink in hand, to answer the door, smiling at her dad. She bet he always bought the kids’ fundraiser chocolate bars in particular—he had a mighty sweet tooth that her mother was always trying to discourage. She pushed aside a big silver balloon that was in the doorway she had to pass through, with HAPPY WEDDING ANNIVERSARY emblazoned across it. Her parents had been married forty years to the day, and they’d been having a wonderful time looking at their old wedding photos and listening to stories about their early years together.

  There was a soft knocking again as Lauren reached for the door handle. “I’m coming,” she called out.

  She yanked the door open and her glass almost slipped straight through her fingers. Tanner was standing there, wearing slim-fitting dark jeans, a dress shirt with the top collar undone, and a tailored jacket. Compared to the clothes she was used to seeing him in, he looked like he was heading somewhere special.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” she repeated, not sure what else to say.

  “I’m sorry to intrude, I know it’s a special night for your folks, but would you mind if I came in?” His smile was sweet but she could tell that he was nervous, and she had no idea why he’d turned up at her parents’ house.

  “How do you know it’s their anniversary?” she asked, still standing in the doorway, trying to decide whether to let him in or try to convince him to go back to his car. The last time they’d seen each other hadn’t exactly gone well.

  “Your sister posted it on Facebook,” he said. “I took a shot that they lived in the same house, and that you’d all be here celebrating since it was a Saturday night. I remember how much your folks preferred to stay in rather than dine out.”

  Lauren should have told him that they’d just sat down to dinner and were in the middle of toasting their marriage, so now wasn’t a good time, but instead she stood back and waved her hand into the house. She didn’t know what she had to lose and it was probably easier having him come in than walking him back to his car and having to be alone with the man. “Come on in then, I guess.”

  Tanner stepped in and looked around, waiting for her and touching the small of her back to let her go first. He was a true Texan, his manners faultless when he was on his best behavior—only right now she wished he wasn’t. It was like his eyes were burning into her from behind, and her body was tingling from his touch, still craving what it had been denied.


  “Cute photos,” he said as they walked past framed pictures of her and her sister as toddlers.

  “You’d have seen them before if you’d ever bothered to come in when we were dating,” she pointed out. “I recall your preference was to sit outside lounging on your motorcycle, smoking a cigarette that you’d eventually drop and grind beneath your boot in my dad’s driveway—which drove him nuts by the way. And I’d be inside begging to go out with you.” She spun around. “You know, I’m pretty sure he still hasn’t forgiven you for all that stuff, so don’t go expecting Mr. Nice Guy, okay?”

  Tanner groaned. “Okay, well, let’s not mention any of that tonight. It’s been a long time and I bet he’s forgotten at least half of the shit I put him and your mom through.”

  She had no idea why he was even in her family home, but something told her this was no casual drive-by. He looked so handsome all dressed up—she was used to seeing him in his work clothes, which consisted of a simple rotation of plaid shirts and jeans, or his vacation attire, so either he was going somewhere after this or … she was puzzled. Would he dress up like that just to come here? His hair was combed back off his face, still too long on the ends but it suited him, and she saw that his boots were polished, too. For some reason he’d made a big effort with his presentation and attire. Some reason that was starting to make her uneasy, whatever it was.

  “Ah, Mom, Dad,” Lauren said, as a hush fell over the room and every face at the table turned to Tanner. “We have a visitor.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Lewis,” Tanner said in a loud, clear voice. Something wasn’t right, she still had no idea why he was here or what was going on, but her anxiety was starting to build. Big time. He looked like he was about to ask her to prom.

  She saw the shock register on every face, but it was her sister who frantically looked back at her, searching her face, dying to know if Lauren had known he was coming. Lauren shook her head ever so slightly and mouthed no, and her sister nodded, understanding in only the way a sister could.

  “Tanner,” her father finally said, pushing out his chair and coming around the table to shake his hand. “It’s been a long time. Good to see you.”