Cowboys & Kisses

by Summers, Sasha

  Wyatt’s eyebrows went up. “Well, don’t let that get you worked up.”

  “Who’s Annemarie Cummings?” I asked, trying to keep up.

  “She’s a world-class barrel racer, Allie. Tough competition. Firefly and I have cut our time, but…” Molly shook her head.

  I had no idea what they were talking about. But competition, that I knew well. It was never easy going up against someone better than you. “Wyatt’s right. Don’t let her get in your head. This is your field…arena…your turf,” I finished lamely.

  She smiled, shrugging a little. “You’re right.” But she didn’t sound convinced.

  An awkward silence fell. Awkward since I was determined not to look at Wyatt but was aware of his every twitch and breath. And awkward because my brother was staring at Molly like he was going to grab her and kiss her any minute now. I wasn’t against making out, but it might not be the best thing to do here, in front of the whole town. Especially since her Marine brothers were around somewhere.

  “You’re going to have to fill me in on…everything,” I said, hoping to distract…everyone. “I don’t know all the rules and stuff.”

  Molly shrugged. “Barrel racing is easy. As far as rules go, that is. You blow through the gate and fly around the barrels without knocking them over.”

  “And if you knock one over?” I asked.

  “They add five seconds to your time,” Wyatt said.

  “Fastest time wins,” Molly finished.

  Dax nodded. “Got it.”

  “Guess you have to have a solid relationship with your horse, huh?” I asked as we headed slowly toward the stage on the far side of the fairgrounds.

  Molly smiled. “Firefly’s my baby. My dad didn’t want him, said he was too small. But I knew he’d do right by me. And he has. We’ve won some pretty big purses—for the small circuits.”

  I smiled back at her, hoping I looked impressed. I had no idea what a pretty big purse meant; it was all about the winning part of things for me. Trophies and medals didn’t hurt, though.

  “Wyatt’s up on two events tonight. Bulldogging and team roping.” Molly shook her head. “Just don’t get poked.”

  “Poked?”

  “Steer wrestling,” Dax explained.

  “Oh.” I frowned. It might not be bull riding, but… “Bulldogging?” My gaze found Wyatt and he nodded at me, his brown eyes way too curious.

  “You and Hank still going to try for Regionals?” Molly asked.

  Wyatt shrugged. “If he doesn’t get deployed before then.”

  “Hank?” Dax asked.

  “My brother. He and Wyatt team rope,” Molly explained. “We’ve got rodeo in our blood.”

  The closer we got to the stage, the louder the music was. People were grouped together, laughing and talking. Hundreds of strands of white Christmas lights ran back and forth over the crowded dance area. From little boys in boots to old men holding carved canes wearing straw hats, it was clear that you didn’t outgrow being a cowboy. At least not in Black Falls, Texas.

  Dax was almost floating with happiness when Molly took his hand and led him onto the dance floor. Poor Dax. I could just hear their conversation. I don’t know anything about rodeo or western dancing or—

  “Dance?” Wyatt asked me.

  I shook my head. “To this?”

  “Um…” He paused, his smile way too charming. “That’s what I had in mind.”

  A couple passed us. The guy was twisting the girl this way and that, arms and hair flying as they spun together.

  “I’m not qualified for that,” I said. “Wow.”

  The couple did some fancy extra twists as the music came to an end, making my mouth fall open and Wyatt laugh.

  When the music started back up, it was much slower. “How about this?” He held out his hands to me.

  My stomach tightened, reminding me why I should say no. My heart was racing, reinforcing the whole “say no” thing.

  “I can teach you,” he added.

  I couldn’t help but pick up on his tension. He was nervous. I could see how fast his heart was beating from the pulse in his neck. I opened my mouth, the “no” ready and waiting to jump out…but somehow I ended up taking his hands and following him onto the packed-dirt dance floor. His hand, rough and warm, made my hand tingle…and my arm…and my shoulder.

  A shiver ran down my back, leaving goose-bumps over every inch of my skin. Get a grip. By the time we were on the dirt dance floor, I was one raw nerve, tingling and nervous and feeling like a complete idiot for caving to the hunky cowboy with the thumping heart.

  His arm went around me, his hand resting on the back of my shoulder. His other hand still held mine, which was sort of nice since I had no clue what I was doing. A quick glance around the dance floor told me I was supposed to place my other arm along his, resting my other hand on his shoulder. Some women had their arm rigid, others elevated, some drooped. I draped.

  “Two big steps,” he said, moving us forward, “then three little steps. That’s it.”

  “That I can do.” I tried to sound playful but the smile he shot my way made that a bit challenging.

  Dancing was easy. He led, carefully, his hand steering me through any near collisions as more dancers joined us. We moved a little closer together, it was getting really crowded, when I heard him singing. It was soft…but he was definitely singing. A low, rumbling sound that had me leaning closer.

  I smiled up at him. He smiled back, his lips barely moving. “You’re singing,” I said.

  He frowned. “I am?”

  I nodded, shooting him a disbelieving smile. “Yep.” He pressed his lips shut. “I wasn’t complaining,” I murmured.

  “You weren’t?”

  “I…No.”

  He smiled then, spinning me around. He pulled me a little closer, edging around an older couple who swayed in place. Closer still when we moved between two couples. So close that I could feel his heartbeat, thumping like crazy—like mine, against my chest.

  His voice was right beside my ear, his breath brushing across my ear. I lost my step, tripping on his boot.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  His hand squeezed mine, but he just kept singing.

  I could rest my head on his shoulder if I wanted to. His shoulder was right there. All I had to do was let my head fall a few inches forward…

  His hand traveled lower, resting on the back of my waist. His fingers were spread wide, his thumb resting beneath my bra strap.

  His heart rate picked up, pumping against his chest and mine. He spun us around, fast, without missing a step. I laughed a little, unable to resist smiling up at him. His gaze was so…I was feeling so…

  What was wrong with me? It was hot. It was dark, and I was still sweating. I was tripping through an unknown dance on a crowded floor. People everywhere. Music that, frankly, made me cringe. But I couldn’t think of a place I’d rather be.

  “Last dance, folks,” a voice said through the overhead speakers. “Time to rodeo.” An impressive whoop rose up from the crowd.

  “I’ve gotta go get things set up,” Wyatt said, still holding me close.

  “Oh, okay.” I didn’t sound like me.

  He gaze was intense, like he was studying…me. My eyes, my forehead, my cheeks, my chin, my mouth… I felt my cheeks going hot again.

  “I like dancing with you, Allie.” His voice was low, rough.

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. He sighed, one hand slowly sliding from my back while the other still held mine.

  “Kiss her or come on, Wyatt.”

  Wyatt stepped back then, shaking his head. “Comin’, Hank.” He nodded at me, once. “See you later, Allie.”

  “Be careful,” I said, hearing the strain in my voice. “Or is it good luck?”

  He nodded, his smile returning full force.

  “You sure you don’t want to kiss her?” Hank asked. “Can’t hurt.”

  “It might,” Wyatt said. “You don’t know Allie.”<
br />
  “I’m Hank.” Hank was massive. Broad and thick, he radiated don’t-get-on-my-bad-side. But he had a great smile.

  “Hey. I’m Allie.” I shook his hand.

  “Molly’s my sister. Is your brother Dax?” he asked, scowling at me.

  “Yeah, so please don’t hurt him.”

  Hank arched a thick brown eyebrow at me. “Not making any promises.”

  “Come on,” Wyatt said.

  They were like boys on Christmas morning, excited and pumped-up, as they made their way through the crowd to the pens and fences in the distance.

  “Your dad wanted you, huh?” Levi stood behind me. Awesome. “You know what you’re getting into?” Levi’s voice was low.

  “What?” I asked.

  Levi leaned closer, like he had some big, important secret to tell me. “Wyatt.”

  For some reason it pissed me off. “Levi…” I stepped back, crossing my arms in an attempt not to blow a gasket. “I’m going to the bonfire with you. I danced with Wyatt. That’s it.”

  Levi’s eyebrows shot up.

  “I don’t plan on getting into anything with either one of you,” I said, arching my brows right back at him. “Okay?”

  He smiled. “Sure. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to make you my girlfriend.”

  I laughed, surprised.

  “Allie!” Dax was on the other side of the dance floor, waving me over.

  “Meet me over by the kettle corn after, okay?” Levi said, walking away.

  “Sure,” I replied, heading towards Dax.

  “You dance with Levi?” Dax asked. I shot him a look. “Just kidding. It was Wyatt, right?” I continued to glare at him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  We didn’t say much as we climbed up the wooden bleachers surrounding the arena. It was packed, but Mom had saved enough room for Dax and me to squeeze in.

  I’d been to the Dallas Rodeo a few times. Beer, sweat, manure, and leather were all scents I expected on the fairgrounds. I wasn’t disappointed. But there was another scent in the air. I glanced at Dax, wedged right beside me. “Are you wearing cologne?” I asked.

  Red crept up his neck to color his face. I giggled.

  He smiled at me. “I haven’t heard you laugh like that in a long time, Al.”

  I shook my head, brushing off what he said. But he was right. I hadn’t felt like this—happy—in a long time…because I had no right to be happy. So why was I?

  I frowned as the announcer started talking. I didn’t hear a word he said until Dax nudged me in the side. Everyone was standing as Molly rode into the arena. She held a flagpole, the Stars and Stripes flying proudly. I was impressed with her balance. I don’t think she was even holding the reins of her horse.

  The announcer continued: “Father God, tonight we’re here to admire the sportsmanship You’ve given these fine young men and women. We acknowledge that, through You, we live in the greatest country in the world. Where freedom is part of our daily life. Where faith and family come first. Where neighbors still look out for one another.”

  I was torn. This was kind of embarrassing. But it was also kind of cool. I glanced around me. Men, young and old, had their hats in their hands and their hands over their hearts. I heard a few amens.

  “And today, the Fourth of July, we thank You for America’s forefathers,” the announcer went on. “We also ask You to watch over those men and women fighting, even as we speak, to protect this great country. We ask that You protect them and the cowboys and cowgirls participating tonight in this wonderful Fourth of July rodeo.”

  I thought of Wyatt. Bulldogging. I wasn’t sure I could watch.

  A young woman started singing the “Star-Spangled Banner” into a microphone. Everyone in the stands joined in. It wasn’t a hushed kind of thing, either. People weren’t pretending or stumbling over the words. No, they were belting them out loudly. Proudly.

  As the song came to an end, a roar of applause rose up and Molly pressed her knees hard into her horse’s sides. They flew out of the arena, flag flying. Dax let out a long, slow breath.

  “You okay?” I asked him. He just looked at me. I shook my head.

  “We want to thank tonight’s sponsors…” The announcer began listing off names of local and state businesses.

  I patted Dax on the knee and shifted, turning my attention to the arena below. First up, bronc riding. It wasn’t pretty. I winced, a lot, and ended up people-watching instead. There were plenty of people to watch. There were a lot of tourists, which was kind of weird.

  I started to see the difference between the locals and those trying to blend in. Eventually I narrowed it down to four groups: Natives, meaning they’d been born and would die here. Transplants, like us. In-betweens, here to watch but weren’t real tourists or out to make friends, probably from San Antonio or Austin. Tourists, complete with the big cameras and grocery-store-bought straw cowboy hats.

  “Glad that’s over,” Mom said to me. “I worry about those horses.”

  I laughed. “Only you would say that.”

  “Well, it’s true.”

  “Let’s give those boys a round of applause,” the announcer’s voice enthused. “Well, Cowboy Sam, what’s the matter?”

  Cowboy Sam was a heavy-set rodeo clown who was meant to entertain the crowd while the next event was set up. So far, he’d only added to the are-you-serious nature of this whole experience.

  “Next up, team roping. We have some great teams here today, from as far away as Germany, Australia, and Brazil. That’s right, folks, right here in Black Falls, Texas.”

  I looked at Dax. Dax looked at me. “They have rodeos in Germany?” I asked.

  “You learn something new every day.” He shrugged.

  It didn’t matter. This was Wyatt’s event.

  Wyatt.

  I scooched forward on my seat, my hands pressed between my legs. The wind picked up, lifting my hair and cooling my neck. I felt the tension in the air as two riders rode up, right behind metal gates. A cow was herded into a chute between them. A buzzer sounded and the cow bolted out, the two riders quick on its heels.

  The first cowboy threw his lasso, hooking the cow’s horns. The other rider was close, his lasso twirling in the air. Once he saw the rope was secure on the cow’s head, he let his lasso fly, catching the cow’s back legs. The cow stumbled to a stop, showing it was caught by both ropes, and the cowboys let go of their leads, letting them fall to the dirt. Freed, the cow ran to the other end of the arena, the ropes falling off as he went, while the two cowboys followed, their eyes glued to the scoreboard.

  “That was fast,” I murmured.

  “Not really, sugar,” the man behind me said.

  I turned around. The man was brown, his skin wrinkled like leather. His hands were gnarled around the longneck beer bottle in his hands.

  “I wouldn’t really know what a fast time was,” I admitted, smiling.

  The man tipped his hat at me. “Well, sugar, I can help you with that.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.” Dax rolled his eyes, but he leaned back to listen too. We were both clueless.

  “Now, the boys need to make sure they didn’t break a barrier,” the old man said. “Once the header gets the steer, the heeler needs to be fast.”

  I glanced at Dax, who was grinning. Keep smiling, smart-ass. “You lost me,” I said. “I’m assuming the header is the one that—”

  “Next up, Gabe Garza and Jorge Mendoza, from Houston, Texas,” the announcer interrupted our lesson.

  “Watch.” The old man leaned forward, between Dax and me. The buzzer sounded and the cow shot out. The first rider threw his rope at the cow’s horns. “Header,” the old man said. When the other rider looped the cow’s back leg, he said, “Heeler. But he didn’t get both legs.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “That’s bad, sugar.” The old man smiled, sipping his beer. “Penalty points.”

  I nodded.

  “Next up, some lo
cals, Wyatt Holcomb and Hank Pendleton,” the announcer said. “Word is these boys are thinking about heading to Regionals before Hank is deployed.”

  The crowd went crazy.

  7 CHAPTER SEVEN

  I stared at Wyatt, watched his every move. He had a length of rope in his mouth, his lasso in one hand, and more rope in the other. His knees gripped his horse, but nothing else. He was rigid, his entire body poised for movement.

  It was so fast I didn’t really see what happened. “Now that was a good run,” the old man said, sitting back. “Damn good run.”

  All I saw was Wyatt, his smile when his score was posted.

  “Best score so far,” Dax said. “Where’s that whistle now?”

  I started to, but my dad beat me to it. All the same, Wyatt turned and found me.

  I didn’t think his smile could get any bigger, but I was wrong. He looked so damn gorgeous as he tipped his hat at me. Why did his public display of affection have the opposite effect of Levi’s?

  “Stop smiling at him,” Dax warned. “If you don’t like him, don’t lead him on.”

  That’s when I realized I was smiling right back at Wyatt, a huge, stupid grin that had no place on my face. “Shit,” I murmured.

  “Shit is right.” Dax frowned at me.

  I frowned at my brother. “I didn’t mean…I’m not…I don’t want…” I stood up. “I’m going to get something to drink.” I paused then. “What’s next?” If Molly was coming up, I wouldn’t leave Dax—even if he was being a dipshit.

  “Kids’ calf scramble,” the old man said, openly watching Dax and me with interest. “You won’t miss nothin’ special while you go hunt down your cowboy.”

  “He’s not—” I shook my head, realizing that my parents were watching as well. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Will you get me a water?” my mom asked.

  “And some kettle corn,” Dax added.

  “Oh, and a funnel cake?” Mom said.

  I sighed. “Sure, fine, great. Be right back.”

  It took me ten minutes to get out of the stands and down to the vendors’ tents that lined the gravel road along the side of the arena. The wait lines were ridiculous but at least I had some time to myself.