Ronnie pointed to an arched doorway. “Through there and to the left.”
He noticed she didn’t divest herself of her hoodie or make a move to accompany him. Cold feet? he wondered.
Stopping in front of her, he said, “Relax. I won’t bite.” He almost added, “Unless you want me to,” but shut his mouth.
Probably best he behaved or he wouldn’t be seeing the inside of her house again anytime soon. And it was a nice house. Small but comfortable. Furnished with mostly hand-me-downs, more functional than fancy. Very much Ronnie’s style.
“Come on.” He folded her hand inside his. “Let’s sit and get to know each other better. Catch up on the last six years. I want to hear about everything you’ve been doing. You must have interests besides work keeping you busy. Book club. Line dancing lessons. Wine tasting.”
She acquiesced, but only after he gave her a gentle tug. Nate tried not to gloat.
Luck remained on Nate’s side. He wasn’t sure he could convince Ronnie to sit next to him, but cardboard boxes occupied both chairs. Only the couch was empty.
“You moving?” he asked.
“Stuff from Dad I haven’t had a chance to unpack yet. Dolores moved in with him this past spring. They needed room at the house for her things and have been unloading our old belongings on me and Mel and Frankie.”
“Belongings like the bicycle I saw in the garage?”
“Yeah, along with ribbons and trophies and photos and scrapbooks. Like I need a poster from my third grade science fair project or my Girl Scout uniform.”
“I’d like to see those.”
“They’re a lot less interesting than you might think.”
When he plunked down on the couch, she joined him, but not before removing her hoodie and laying it over the couch arm. Progress, he told himself. She felt safe enough to forgo her customary armor.
“I have an important question for you,” he asked once they were both settled, legs extended and boots resting on the leather upholstered footrest.
“What’s that?”
“Did you see the poster in the bar for the Valentine’s Day dance?”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I did.”
“Are you going?”
“I haven’t decided.” Her expression quickly changed to one of alarm. “Are you asking me?”
“No, that’s the day I’m not fit for company. I was simply wondering.”
She reclined against the cushion, obviously relieved.
“I do have another question.”
“Oh?” Alarm reappeared on her face.
“Why did you come running to see if I was okay?”
“I was concerned for your safety.”
“Theo was concerned for my safety. He told me later. But he didn’t send your dad down to check on me. Bess didn’t come, and I’m her employee. You did, Ronnie.” He inched closer. “I want to know why.”
“I don’t hate you, Nate. I didn’t want to see you hurt.”
“Everyone in the stands tonight doesn’t hate me and didn’t want to see me hurt. They also didn’t set a fifty-meter dash record.”
She glared at him, though it was a pretty wimpy glare. “You want me to admit I still care for you?”
“Do you?”
“By your own account, that was a fantastic kiss back there in the garage. I’m either an Oscar-worthy actress or I care for you. At least a little.”
“It’s possible to desire someone and have incredible chemistry but not like them.”
“For me it isn’t.”
He cupped her shoulder with his palm. “Let’s try it again.”
She pulled back.
“If, after one kiss, you admit to caring for me at least a little, how much more will you care after two?”
“Be serious, Nate.”
“I am.” He bent and pressed his forehead to hers. “Want to know if I still care for you?”
Her expression became somber. “You’re not exactly hiding the fact you do.”
“True.”
“But I hurt you once. Badly. You can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Enough of the past. Let’s move forward.”
Like in the garage, he stopped her from saying more with a kiss. This one, however, was filled with tenderness rather than wild hunger.
Also like before, she went soft in his arms. And without the passion clouding his senses, Nate experienced a deep emotional connection with her far exceeding any physical one.
The effect on him was ten times greater than before. He knew then he wasn’t over Ronnie and had never been despite what he’d told himself and others. That was why he’d stayed in town, not because he needed answers or closure.
As the kiss continued, he felt like he couldn’t live another day, another moment, without her beside him, her body nestled in the crook of his when he went to bed at night and woke in the morning.
Dangerous desires, for sure. She wasn’t ready and, to be entirely honest, he wasn’t, either. They really should go slow, all kidding aside, rather than ruin a potentially good thing.
He let out a long exhale when they shifted apart. “Maybe we should stop.”
“I’m not sure I want that.”
“You’re kidding, of course.” He studied her, searching for the hint of teasing. “I’m on shaky ground here and will easily take what you say the wrong way.”
“That first kiss was fantastic.” She smiled shyly. “I liked this one better.”
“Why?”
“You’ll think I’m silly.”
“Who, me?”
“It was more romantic, and you can sometimes be a really romantic guy.”
Her admission seeped inside and imprinted itself on his heart.
“I had a revelation of sorts tonight,” she said.
“About?”
“You. Us.” Her glance sought his. “I’ve missed you, Nate. Missed what we had. It was good.”
“Before it went bad,” he reminded her.
“Mel accused me of hiding out in Mustang Valley after I left you and trying to convince myself and everyone else that I’m happy when I’m not. She’s sort of right. I haven’t been happy exactly. But not unhappy, either.”
“That describes me perfectly. Not happy, not unhappy.”
“I like kissing you, Nate. I like sitting on the couch with you. I would probably like taking this further and heading off to the bedroom.”
He forced himself not to jump to conclusions. “Didn’t we just review the ground rules?”
“And nothing’s changed.” She twisted on the cushion to face him. “You’re still wounded, deep down, and I’m still buried in grief and guilt over the miscarriage and the terrible way I treated you. Not the best combination to begin with, and sleeping together will only cause our insecurities to increase, not decrease.”
“I hate it when you make good sense,” he said, resigning himself to the inevitable. “And on that note, I should probably go.”
She stood when he did and walked with him while he grabbed his jacket and then his hat.
“Good luck tomorrow,” he said, opening his truck door. “I’ll help if you need it.”
She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Nate.”
Turning away from her, he touched the spot.
How was it possible? Each kiss had gotten progressively sweeter. This last one was downright innocent. But their effect on him had escalated, leaving him floundering in an emotional tidal wave. He barely remembered the drive home to The Small Change.
* * *
ANXIETY BEFORE A rodeo was nothing new to Ronnie. Today, though, her anxiety was getting the best of her. She’d snapped at Sam and was repaid with the silent treatment. Next, she’d failed to look where she was going and stubbed her toe on a studen
t’s grooming box. And perhaps the most humiliating of all, she’d burst into tears when her dad had come over to wish her luck.
Spending ten minutes in the Poco Dinero restroom composing herself had calmed her nerves. Marginally. With twenty minutes left before the barrel racing event started, she was flitting from one participant to the next, offering last-minute assistance, advice or support.
“Sorry about earlier,” she told Sam.
“It’s okay. Not like I haven’t bitten your head off recently.”
The teenager wasn’t competing today, not in an official capacity. As the town’s newest minor celebrity, she’d be making the first opening run on Comanche in order to excite the crowd and generate interest—for herself and for Ronnie.
Bess had agreed to not only announce a brief history of Sam’s journey to Nationals, but to also mention that the horse she rode had been schooled by Ronnie, former barrel racing state champion and local horse trainer.
Fair was fair. Part of Ronnie’s agreement with Bess was the opportunity to promote her school. Ronnie’s list of clients and students was growing, but not in proportion to her mounting expenses.
Today just had to go well, Ronnie told herself as she checked to make sure the girth was tight on a student’s horse. Too much was at stake. She had enough money to carry her for a couple more months. After that, and without an increase in revenue, the future of her school would be in jeopardy.
Board for her horses wasn’t cheap. Neither was the monthly fee she paid to Powell Ranch for use of their facilities. There was also the cost of traveling to various rodeos and fairs to drum up new business. Advertising in rodeo magazines. Maintaining a website. The list went on and on.
What small salary Ronnie paid herself no longer covered the rent on her house and living expenses. She’d joked last night with Nate about finding a roommate, except she wasn’t laughing today.
“You ready?”
Hearing Nate come up behind her, she dropped the stirrup on her student’s saddle and gave the horse a pat on the rump. “Almost.”
The girl thanked Ronnie and left to join her friends gathering outside the arena gate. Pivoting to face him, Ronnie plastered a smile on her face, hoping to convey a confidence she didn’t quite feel.
He noticed immediately she wasn’t herself and asked, “Are you okay?”
In response, she motioned with her hand. “There’s a lot going on. As you can see.”
What was the matter with her? Back in her competition days, she’d battled anxiety before an event but hadn’t suffered from doubts regarding her abilities. That had come later, after her last trip to Nationals, her miscarriage and the falling out with Nate’s mother.
No, not true, she realized. It had come in the weeks following her walking out on Nate.
She’d assumed that after taking a month off to clear her head, she would jump right back into competing, with plenty of time to qualify again for Nationals. Only that month had stretched into two, then three. Before she quite knew it, summer had arrived, and she was still at loose ends.
When Nate had told her about losing his drive, she hadn’t shared with him her own acute loss of the very same thing. How could she admit the cause of their problems—her insistence on competing—had ceased to be important to her?
Ultimately, ironically and sadly, Ronnie had never been to a professional rodeo again, other than as a spectator and to support her students.
“You’re not having second thoughts about last night, are you?” Nate asked.
“Why would I? Nothing happened.”
“Okay. So much for me thinking I rocked your world.” His grin deepened rather than disappeared.
“Ah. The kissing.” She zipped up her hoodie. “Please don’t take this the wrong way.”
“Uh-oh.” He pretended to brace himself.
If her nerves weren’t getting the best of her, she’d have laughed. “I haven’t thought about last night a whole lot. I’ve been too busy.”
“I won’t take that as an insult.” He hitched his chin at the bleachers. “There’s a good-size crowd.”
“Yeah.” Thank goodness. Ronnie had been imagining the worst, which included Bess informing her the barrel racing wasn’t working out and they were canceling all future events.
“And I heard you have twenty-six entries.”
“Not as many as bull riding but a respectable number.” Another of her fears eliminated.
“I wanted to get here sooner. We had a small emergency this morning at the ranch.”
Ronnie really should check with her other students, but his news stopped her. “What happened?”
“Theo fell.”
“Is he all right?” Concern flared. Her father hadn’t said anything. Then again, he didn’t work today and might not have heard.
“Twisted his ankle pretty good. He wanted to be here today. Reese insisted he stay home. Keep the ankle elevated and iced.”
“She’s right,” Ronnie concurred. “I’m glad it’s nothing serious.”
“Physically, no. Emotionally, that’s another story. He was trying to climb on the tractor. Apparently one of the hands didn’t show up this morning. Too much celebrating last night is the rumor. Theo decided to help with the morning feeding.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“He’s not normally up that early, much less out and about.” Nate rubbed the back of his neck as if to relieve tension. “I feel bad for him. Reese has forbidden him to ever drive a tractor again, and I think he’s taking it hard. That was something he used to do every day, and now it’s one more restriction thanks to his Parkinson’s. She’s also insisting he see a doctor.”
“And he’s refusing?”
“You know Theo.”
“Hey, Ronnie! Can you help me with this?” The young woman, a student of Ronnie’s, struggled with the buckle on her chaps.
“Just one second.”
“I didn’t intend to keep you,” Nate said. “Good luck today.”
She turned, assuming he’d saunter off. She should have known better. The next instant, he swept her into his arms and pulled her flush against him.
“Nate,” she protested when he dipped his head. “Just because I let you kiss me last night doesn’t mean you can kiss me anytime you want.”
“You’re right,” he drawled, his lips temptingly close. “Sorry.”
If only she didn’t like kissing him so much and find everything about him attractive. Even his take control attitude, which should annoy her, gave her a small thrill. As he held her, the thrill wound lazily through her, lighting random nerve endings along its path.
Summoning the last shred of her willpower, she said, “Please.”
He released her with the same swiftness as he’d embraced her. Ronnie righted her lopsided hat and waited until her balance returned. By then, Nate had sped off in the direction of the bleachers.
“Ronnie!” the young woman with the uncooperative buckle called.
“Yeah, yeah.” She brushed the front of her hoodie though not a speck of dirt clung to it.
A hug. Nate had given her a hug. No big deal. She’d been getting hugs all afternoon. No one would think anything of it. Her student hadn’t noticed, and she stood ten feet away.
How was that possible? Ronnie’s cheeks must certainly be flushed, given how warm they were to the touch. When she approached the student, her legs wobbled and her voice came out an octave higher. All dead giveaways Ronnie was flummoxed.
Nate did that to her. He was the only one. Ronnie considered herself rather unflappable, except, apparently, where he was concerned.
“What’s the hold up?” Bess made a pass through the area, shouting and clapping her hands on her way to the announcer’s booth. “Everyone ready?”
Finishing with her student, Ronnie searched for her youngest sister
. Rather than chatting with her friends, Sam stood close to her boyfriend, Drew, Comanche’s reins hanging loose as he nosed the ground.
“Hurry up,” Ronnie called to Sam at the same moment Drew went in for a kiss.
Ronnie would have reprimanded her sister if she herself hadn’t recently been in a very similar situation.
Suddenly music started to play, and Bess’s voice blared from the speakers. Sam dragged herself away from Drew, climbed onto Comanche and entered the arena to a cheering crowd of a hundred-plus spectators. After making a circuit and waving, she executed a flawless run of the barrels, her time excellent for an arena that size.
Unlike the bull riding, barrel racing didn’t have multiple rounds with participants advancing. Everyone got one run per horse. Some participants entered two horses. First, second and third places were determined by whoever had the best time once all the participants had gone.
The prize money wasn’t as great as it was for bull riding, either, though the winners took home a decent amount for a single afternoon’s work.
For the serious professional, the event was a good opportunity to practice in a situation resembling a real rodeo. For others, it was a proving ground for untested horses. All enjoyed a fun afternoon.
At the end of the event, Ronnie accepted the congratulations of friends, family, acquaintances, clients and even strangers. She was introduced to many individuals expressing an interest in her school and passed out a small stack of business cards.
One set of parents raved about Comanche and scheduled an appointment to look at him as a potential horse for their daughter. They went so far as to offer a deposit if Ronnie agreed to hold the horse until after they’d had the chance to “test drive” him, as the father put it.
Like the previous evening, Bess invited spectators inside for reduced prices on drinks. With a two-hour wait until the bull riding started, plenty of people accepted. A collection was taken and pizzas ordered for delivery from the market.
Ronnie initially considered going home. Instead, she hung around, making even more connections as the bull riding crowd arrived. At the rate she was going, she’d have no problem recruiting enough new clients and students to increase her revenue. She might even be able to turn a decent profit sooner than expected.
The Bull Rider's Valentine Page 13