With a wink, she nodded. Just like it did every time the gate was thrown open, Travis’s heart tried to stop as his mind played out the worst-case scenario. Despite the fact that he’d been watching her ride for a month and a half now, the chance that this would be the time she didn’t stick a perfect ten landing sat heavy on him.
The Saturday-night crowd roared as June rode the bull well. Hand up, spurs set, she rolled with every buck like she was part of the bull itself. Everyone was cheering for her. Travis couldn’t blame them.
Watching her in the ring was a thing of beauty and a joy for eight seconds. She had a grace about her that made bull riding pretty. The fringe of her blue chaps floated around her like a stream determined to make it to the ocean.
It was almost a shame when the buzzer sounded, bringing the ride to an end. Her landings were the prettiest. If he hadn’t watched each of her rides unobstructed from the chute platform, he might not have believed that she landed on her feet every single time, but his eyes didn’t lie. One foot, two feet, sometimes a hand, but she didn’t just fall off a bull. She dismounted like a gymnast sticking a perfect ten.
Tonight was no exception. Brother-In-Law was as snotty as his name implied and kept bucking. For another short second, Travis was afraid she wasn’t going to walk away from this one. But then she pulled the rope and rolled a neat somersault right off his back, coming to a two-point landing behind the bull square in the middle of the arena like she’d planned it that way.
The speakers blared heavy metal as the crowd gave June her due.
Dang, but that bordered on elegant. Travis was reminded of the only part of high school history that he’d enjoyed. He remembered reading about some ancient Greek-types and their crazy sport of jumping bulls. Seemed like a hell of a good time, especially to a sixteen-year-old kid without a mom around to tell him not to be so stupid. He remembered the teacher explaining that the red figures in the picture were men and the white figures were women. Everybody got to jump bulls back in the good old days. He hadn’t believed it then. Women? Jumping bulls? But now he knew better.
Not a doubt in his mind. In another time, another place, another life, June would have jumped bulls. And it would have been just as pretty then as it was now.
Maybe he should ask her who’d jumped bulls all those years ago. After all, she’d gotten that college degree in history, just like she’d said she would. She’d know who they were—and probably why they’d jumped.
As she made her way out of the arena, Travis turned to find Mitch staring at him, arms crossed in an unmistakable challenge. “What?”
“You’re smiling.”
He was? Yes, now that he thought about it, he could feel the tightness in his cheeks that normally signified smiling. “So?”
“You’re smiling at my Girlie.”
Oh, crap. “I am not!”
Mitch set his jaw and dropped his arms, like he was thinking about taking the first swing just to get things started proper. “Like hell you’re not.”
“It was a nice ride,” he protested as Mitch took a step forward—a step that pushed Travis closer to the edge of the platform. “And did you see those crowds? She’s really packing them in! I’m smiling because we’re all getting a bigger check tonight!”
Maybe Mitch was going to buy that load, because he let it slide as June said, “How’d I do?” from below them, a curious grin on her face as she took in the tension.
“I think the 86 speaks for itself, Girlie,” Mitch replied as he hopped down and high-fived her. They seemed to have some sort of no-PDA agreement during a rodeo. But at the bar tonight, they’d be all over each other.
Travis wanted to look as natural getting down off the platform as Mitch had, but he couldn’t do it. That landing tonight had not been his best work. Instead, he sat on the edge of the platform and slid the rest of the way. By the time he got on his feet again, Mitch had his arm draped around June and he was pulling her closer.
June looked confused at this breach of protocol, but instead of saying something to her boyfriend, she kept her attention on Travis. “What did you think?”
“One of your better landings.” That didn’t seem to be enough for her, because she kept looking at him. “The crowd really loves you.”
“Yeah?”
She might be blushing under the weight of the compliment, but Mitch scowled at him so hard that Travis thought his face was going to twist right off.
“Yo! Travis! A little help!” Thank God. Randy wanted him to work the ropes. Anything to save Travis from himself.
As he worked the ropes for the other guys, he found himself thinking of the way June had looked at him. There’d been something behind her gaze, something more than just two bull riders shooting the breeze.
He found himself thinking about Barb, about the way she’d looked at Chet Murphy while Travis had been standing right there, ready to ride No Man’s Land. That look from June—that wasn’t the same, was it?
He hoped not. Even if Travis didn’t like June with Mitch—and he didn’t—he didn’t want to think that June would turn out to be the kind of woman to work her way up the ranks of bull riders after all.
The short go went much the same as the long. Mitch hadn’t made the time tonight, so he worked more ropes, but not June’s. Even though she went two ahead of Travis, he was still up there, pulling on her rope with all he had. It wasn’t that he was doing it for her, he told himself as she smiled and said, “Thanks,” again in that husky-serious voice. He just wanted her to be as safe as possible, and the right grip was the safest way to ride.
This time, he made sure not to smile. Which was easy, because her ride was rough.
The bull stumbled coming out of the gate, throwing her forward. Her balance gone, she flailed around as the bull struggled to get his footing.
Damn, that bull was going down, and he was going to take June with him. Travis clamored over the gates as fast as he could, but by the time he dropped down into the arena, she was flying.
Damn. Riderless, the bull pivoted in less than a heartbeat. The bullfighters were moving fast, but not fast enough. Travis was closer.
She hit the ground. One leg down but he saw it buckle, dropping her right in the path of the bull as it bore down on her.
No. That’s all he could think as he moved. That bull wasn’t going to get her, not as long as he was alive. He pulled her clear of the hooves that had her name on them.
The crowd was silent as the bullfighters got the bull’s attention and wrangled him out of the arena. No one knew if it was okay or not. Not even Travis.
“June, sweetheart,” he said, looking down at her. Her eyes were closed, but her forehead was wrinkled. She wasn’t out but she was hurting. “You all right?”
“Travis.” Her voice was soft, but it didn’t sound like she was in agony. Her eyes fluttered open. This close, he could see the flecks of brown around the edges that gave them a depth he hadn’t appreciated before. “You’re lying on top of me and I’m pretty sure everyone’s looking.”
He didn’t care. The whole world could look. The only thing he cared about was her. “Are you okay?”
“Sprained my ankle.” She sounded amused. “Get off me, please.”
Right. He was on top of her in the middle of the arena—in front of a sellout crowd. As quick as he could, he got up and then gave her a hand as the crowd began to applaud nervously. By the time they got upright, Mitch had made it out and slung her arm over his shoulder.
“Damn, Travis, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you move that fast,” Mitch said, sounding not in the least pissed that Travis had tackled his girlfriend. “Are you sure that limp ain’t just an act?”
That was the first thing out of his mouth? Where was the concern for June’s well-being? Where was the damn love? “She said she sprained her ankle,” Travis
growled. “Make sure she sees the EMTs.”
“Yes, sir, Poppa Bear,” Mitch scoffed as he helped June limp off toward the paramedics while the announcers got the audience cheering about the save and revved back up for Randy’s ride.
Poppa Bear. The name grated harder on Travis’s nerves than normal.
Let it go, he told himself as he headed back to where his bull was waiting for him. Stay loose. She’s okay. You’re okay. Time to ride.
“Travis?” The sound of his name had him spinning on his heels faster than he wanted to admit. June pivoted, her face creased with the effort. “Thanks.” And she walked off with the love of her life.
* * *
SOMEHOW, THE FACT that Travis nailed 89s both times out and secured a comfortable lead didn’t improve his mood.
Damn that Mitch. First he acted like Travis smiling at his girlfriend was a betrayal of their friendship, and then he acted like he could care less that Travis had tackled June.
But that wasn’t it. If that had been all there was to it, Travis would have brushed off that behavior as Mitch being Mitch. But his complete and total disregard for June’s well-being sat in Travis’s craw like a bad burrito.
Even now, Mitch wasn’t around. June was at her normal table outside the arena with her leg propped up on a folding chair, ice taped over her boot. Despite the awkward setup, she was still smiling for pictures and signing posters and T-shirts—just like Mort had predicted. June really was selling out the show every night, and the winnings were bigger. Like twenty percent bigger.
Where the hell was Mitch? He should be here, checking on her. Travis decided that if Mitch wasn’t going to do his job, then to hell with him. He waited until she’d finished posing for another picture before he asked, “You okay?”
“I’ll live,” she said with a laugh. “Not the best ride, but not the worst, either.”
“I thought you always landed on your feet,” he said as she signed another autograph in permanent marker on a light blue “Real Girls Ride Bulls” T-shirt. Matched her chaps perfectly.
“Travis, I thought you, of all people, would understand that gravity is a cruel mistress.”
Yeah, she was teasing him, but it didn’t hit him like it did when Mitch teased him. “Where’s Mitch?”
“Could you make it out to Janette?” the woman in head-to-toe Carhartt asked as she handed over a glossy poster that showed June riding on one half and somersaulting to her landing on the other. “You were something out there—are you going to Vegas this year?”
“I’m going to try,” June said with a friendly smile. “I’ve got to get past Travis first, and that’s not going to be easy.”
The woman glanced over at Travis like he was intruding on a personal moment. “Oh—are you one of the riders?”
And just like that, Travis was a nobody in the shadow of a woman who was clearly on her way to becoming somebody.
“Actually,” June said sharply, her smile stiffening, “Travis is the best rider on the circuit. Travis Younkin—the overall winner this weekend? He was in Vegas a few years ago, and my money’s on him to make it back again this year. You should check him out. He’s the man to beat.”
She didn’t have to defend him, not to one of her fans. He opened his mouth to say as much, but the Carhartt woman beat him to the punch.
“The Travis Younkin who nearly died in the arena? That’s you?”
“He’s still got it, don’t you think?” June added. Then she winked at him.
What the hell?
“Wow—the Travis Younkin? I didn’t realize you were still riding! I saw you right here, almost five years ago!” Carhartt stepped back and scoped him out top to bottom. “You do still have it, don’t you? Will you sign this for me?”
He still had it? Most days, it felt like it was a battle between his will and his body.
In less than a minute, June had made him feel like he had it back, all right.
The crowd petered out after that, but still no sign of Mitch. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
“He’s around. Said he had to check on something.”
What could be more important than checking on June? Travis was going to find that man and beat some sense into him—as soon as he could figure out where he was.
“Travis, could you help me out to the Bronco?”
“That hellhound won’t rip me to shreds this time, will he?”
“You call my dog a hellhound?” She giggled as she held out her arms, like she expected him to pick her up. Seemed like a hell of a good idea, except he didn’t want to drop her. So he did the next best thing—he gave her something to lean on. He took her hands in his, noting how soft and smooth they were—how utterly feminine—and pulled her to her good foot. Making sure that she stayed on his right side, he slung her arm over his shoulder and looped his hand around her waist.
Just helping her out to the car, he told himself as her warm weight settled against his good side. Nothing sexual about that. Nothing at all. And he certainly wasn’t thinking about how good she’d felt underneath him, when the whole world had been watching. Nope. Not even a little bit. All he was doing here was helping out a fellow bull rider.
Yeah, right.
“You and Jeff just got off to a rough start,” she went on, leaning into him like it was no big deal. “You’d like him—he’s almost as protective of me as you are.”
“I am not protective of you,” Travis said. Well, he tried to say it but it came out as a growl.
She giggled again. He’d heard it lots of times when Mitch got lit and started telling lame jokes at the bars, but it sounded different this time. Maybe it was the echo from the bleachers, he reasoned. “Uh-huh. There’s some other reason you’re half carrying me out to the parking lot.”
He was sure there was—but the particular reason escaped him at the moment. “You’re not going to start in on me, too, are you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She paused to adjust her backpack on her shoulder. “Who started in on you?”
Should have kept his big mouth shut. “No one.”
Mitch’s hunk of steel was in sight now, but Mitch? Nowhere to be seen. Even the Brazilian was missing. Just a big, ugly dog thumping his tail at the sight of his mistress.
Funny, the hellhound didn’t look nearly so deadly in the summer dusk. His tongue lolled out so far that it hung over the edge of the open tailgate he was sprawled out on.
“See? He’s a nice mutt.”
“To you, maybe.” She giggled, and again he was struck by how different she sounded.
The dog sat up and whined at them. “Uh, good dog?”
She grinned at Travis, the golden light shining bright off her smile. “Help me up, will you?”
She turned and put both of her hands on his shoulders. All he had to do was put his hands on her waist and lift and then he could go find Mitch and beat the tar out of him.
But the moment his hands settled just above the curve of her hips, Travis felt rooted to the spot. She looked up at him through thick lashes and sighed.
The brown seemed more prominent now, like her eyes were changing right before him. She held on to his neck wearing the same look she’d had before the gates flew open. But this time, there wasn’t a bull in sight.
If Mitch had been about to deck him for smiling at his Girlie, what the Sam Hill would Mitch do if he caught them in this position?
“It’s okay,” she breathed as if she was reading Travis’s mind. Her lips parted. They weren’t the same man-eater red that so many of the bunnies from his past had sported, or even a more natural pink. Her lips were closer to one of those red grapes—a deep shade of purple and brown all mixed together. She looked good enough to eat.
His heart began to pound wildly, because not only did she look good enough to eat
, she looked like she wanted him to have a taste.
This can’t be right, he thought as she pulled on his neck, guiding his head down. She’s not flirting with me. She’s not interested in me. I’m just helping her up—
A cell phone rang.
“Oh!” She snapped out of whatever insanity she’d been in. “Up, please.”
His heart was still trucking along at breakneck speed as he lifted her onto the truck gate. Jeff wagged his tail at Travis as June fished out her phone.
“Hello? Hi! No, it’s not too bad. I just sprained it.” She looked up at him. “Boss,” she murmured under her breath before turning her attention back to the phone.
Travis looked around. Still no Mitch—should he leave her here alone? Bailing while she was talking on the phone seemed like something that would make a woman mad. He leaned against the gate. Jeff rolled over, begging for a tummy rub.
“Of course. Absolutely. Yes. Travis Younkin.”
Wait—what? His ears caught fire. Her boss was asking about him?
June smiled at him as she kept going, “Yes. Understood.” Something was behind that smile but he couldn’t tell what it was. Jeff whimpered. He sounded like a dog who wanted his ears scratched so Travis obliged, hoping he wasn’t about to lose an arm.
It had been a long time since he’d petted a dog. Between that, the odd conversation he might or might not be a part of and that thing that had seemed a lot like a kiss in the making, he wasn’t sure he wanted to walk away from her right now. Besides, he reasoned, going for Jeff’s exposed tummy, someone should look after June until Mitch bothers to get here.
“Yes, Joseph. Tell Robin I said hi. Bye.” She hung up and looked at him. She looked almost as confused as he felt. “My boss would like me to pass along his thanks for not letting me get trampled.”
“That a normal sort of thing for him?”
“Hard to tell.” She twisted around and lugged out a duffel bag. She rifled around in it until she came up with an enormous brace. “Since you’re here, could you do me a favor and get that boot off? I’ve got to get this on before I swell anymore.”
Rodeo Dreams Page 10