by Anne Carrole
“This is the wireless mike,” the announcer told him. Adam Greene was a tall, balding man in a rhinestone-studded cowboy shirt and faded denims. “Here’s where you switch it on,” he said demonstrating with a flick of his well-padded thumb against the small plastic knob. “The whole place will hear every word.”
Clay’s insides were flipping around like water on a hot griddle. If she said no it would be a humiliation he’d have to bear for the rest of his days. If she said yes, it would be worth every minute. He took the mike from the announcer’s outstretched hand.
“You’re slated right before saddle bronc. You riding today?”
Clay shook his head. No way would he be able to concentrate.
“I knew Dusty’s dad. Nice guy. Regular guy.” The announcer looked him over from head to toe. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it? You being a saddle bronc rider and all.”
“Yup.” And that had been part of the problem. But only part. The rest was his alone.
“I think old Doug would approve. Hell, you broke his record. Seems only fitting to keep it in the family.”
“I just hope she feels the same way.”
“You think she won’t? Dusty’s a sweet girl. Little bit of a thing, but sometimes the best things come in the smallest packages.” He gave Clay an encouraging smile.
“You’re right on that score.” Clay’s heart beat like a wild man was using it for a drum.
“Okay. Once the winner of the bareback takes his ride, I’ll call the special announcement. Be ready.”
Clay nodded. He shook Adam’s outstretched hand. As he and Jesse walked down the cement hallway he said a small silent prayer to her father. Help me out, Doug. I’ll do right by her, I promise.
* * *
Dusty felt like she’d been tossed in a washer and tumbled in a dryer. She’d almost called in sick today. But she couldn’t let Big John down. It was her problem. Life went on, even when it was stripped of any joy or happiness. Even when it was only disappointment and heartache.
Was he here? Saddle bronc was coming up next and she didn’t dare look. She didn’t know if she could handle hearing his name called from the speakers, knowing he was in the same place.
While she didn’t cry anymore at the mention of him, the steady, dull ache still resided inside. She’d been betrayed, used. No matter what Tara Lynn said, no matter how many voice-mails the man left, or text messages he sent, it didn’t erase that fact.
She wished she could believe he had cared for her. The hurt wouldn’t cut so deep if he’d at least come to care something for her after making such a bet. That the man who had kissed her, caressed her and buried himself deep inside of her while calling out her name hadn’t felt anything was more crushing than anything else she was dealing with.
The roar of the crowd said the winner of the bareback riding was taking his victory lap. She finished serving the waiting customers and started filling up some cups in anticipation of the crowd who’d surely come at the break.
“We’ve got something special to do right now. And I’d appreciate it if you all could keep your seats,” Adam’s voice blared out over the speakers. “Especially if you could wait a moment before going for any beer. It’s important is all I’m going to say.”
Not going for beer? Big John would have a fit if he knew they were singling out the beer concession that way. She stepped out from the booth and headed toward the opening in the arena. Peering in, she saw several cowboys milling in the entrance way, all looking toward the center. A lone figure was out there.
Someone was going to sing. She leaned against the concrete wall and waited. Guy must be really good for them to hold the audience like that.
“Ladies and gentleman,” a familiar voice rumbled out into the arena at full volume.
Her heart stood still.
“I’m Clay Tanner and those of you who follow saddle bronc may remember seeing me these last few weeks. I had the privilege to break the record of a hometown boy, Doug Morgan, a few weeks back.” Applause followed.
What the hell was Clay doing? She held her spot. Though she didn’t want to see him, though it hurt just to hear his voice, she was curious. “I have also had the privilege of dating Doug’s daughter, Dusty Morgan.” Blood drained from her body as a smattering of applause and a catcall echoed through the place.
“And you know what? I screwed up. Yup. I didn’t do enough to let this sweet woman know how much she means to me. In fact, I did just the opposite.”
Holy shit. The cowboys standing at the entrance turned around and grinned at her. Her insides twisted.
“I was wrong. Dead wrong. Seriously wrong. You know, the kind of wrong that has a woman not returning your phone calls or your text messages. Not even flowers worked. You know I’m in trouble if flowers haven’t worked.”
The crowd laughed.
“Any of you guys ever been there?”
Several in the crowd yelled they had.
“Yeah. Well, I may need to come to you for some advice if this doesn’t work out. See because of what I did, she doesn’t believe I love her. I do. I swear before all of you and God Almighty, I love her. She’s the kind of woman that makes a man want to settle down, have kids, raise a family. The kind you take home to your mother. And since I don’t think Dusty would go anywhere with me right now, I brought my mother here to meet her. Stand up Mom.”
The cowboys parted and looked back at her. Through the entrance she saw a small, brown-haired woman rise from one of the bleachers behind Clay and give a wave. His mother. He brought his mother.
“And Mrs. Morgan, Dusty’s mom, is here too. Mrs. Morgan.”
Dusty’s eyes went wide at the sight of her mother standing next to Mrs. Tanner. How could this be?
“Because I’ve got something very serious to ask Dusty. First I’ve got to ask her for forgiveness. And second, I want to ask her to marry me.”
The crowd began to clap, the sound thundering in her ears. Had she heard right? He was going to ask her to marry him. No, he had asked her to marry him.
“He’s serious Dusty.”
She jumped and turned to face Jesse.
“I didn’t think he was, which is why I pulled that stunt. But I’ve never seen him like this. He’s so in love it’s hurting him something awful,” Jesse said.
Her mind felt numb, as if this was all some dream—or nightmare. Why was he doing this? Why was he exposing both of them in this public display?
“Now if she’ll forgive me,” Clay’s voice rang out. “I’m hoping she’ll walk out here and make me a happy man. Put an end to my misery. And if she doesn’t, well, I’ll be looking for some advice from those of you in the stands. Dusty, if you hear me and if you can forgive me, will you come out here and accept my proposal?”
The clapping was deafening. Feet were stomping. The crowd started to chant her name.
“Can you forgive him, Dusty?” Jesse whispered in her ear. “He’s waiting on your answer.”
Could it possibly be? She took a deep breath and her heart started to race as she heard the crowd roar. What had Clay said about her talking to her father?
I’m talking now, Daddy. What should I do? I love him, but is he for real?
The moment she thought the words, her feet started moving, as if they had a mind of their own. The cowboys were clapping as she brushed by them. She entered the arena and the handsome man with the microphone held out his arms to her. The crowd was on their feet. The next thing she knew she was running.
Tears streamed down her face as she rushed into his embrace. Happy tears. He grabbed her, held her tight against him. “Honey, I love you. And I’m so sorry.”
The place was going wild. “I love you too,” she managed to say, startled to hear her words ring out over the loud speaker.
“Then will you forgive me? Will you marry me?”
She looked up into his gorgeous face. Tears ran down his cheeks, his gaze focused on her and only her.
“Yes. Yes to everything.”
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br /> The next thing she knew Clay’s lips were claiming hers as he lifted her off the ground and against his hard chest. It was the best eight seconds of her life. She’d taken a re-ride on love.
* * *
A word about the author…
Anne Carrole has been creating stories since she first wondered where Sally was running to in those early reader books. Besides reading and writing romances, you might find Anne researching western history, at a rodeo, watching football, in the garden, or on the tennis court. Married to her own urban cowboy she’s the mother of a teenage cowgirl. She’s also a founder of the western historical fan page www.facebook.com/lovewesternromances.com. She loves hearing from readers. You can friend, follow, or find Anne on:
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