by Rose Verde
“Interesting. Do they get injured in the rides too?”
“Never seen any. It's a competition between beast and man where the man is disadvantaged. An average guy weighs one hundred fifty pounds and is pitted against a bull weighing close to a ton or more.”
They settled into the long two hours drive from London, Ontario. They talked over his plans to hit the circuit once the season kicked off. If she had reservations, she didn't say.
“I'm sure you'll do well after tonight.”
Wyatt glanced at Crissy. Her encouragement meant everything to him and he told her so.
“So, you need a lot of money to go from event to event?”
“Not so much. I’ve made a lot of friends over the years and can travel from place to place without needing to lodge in a hotel, and that means I don’t have to buy food.”
“What’s a typical day like?”
Wyatt was just glad to tell her what he did from sunup to sundown on the circuit. They talked back and forth for a while as the truck ate up the distance to BlueSong. The fact that she wanted to know what he did pleased him. He opened the console of the truck, took out his diary and handed it over to her. “I keep track of things during my down time.”
That was a part of him he never shared with anyone. Crissy took it, her gaze holding his. Then she turned her attention to the journal.
What would she think? Crissy would know more about him from reading his journal than he’d told her. She'd find out all about his injuries and his recovery. He realized he didn’t mind. Chelsea had never read his diary. She didn't care about his well-being anyway, and never bothered asking. She was all about the fun and excitement. She'd been that way since high school. Never settling down, or worrying about responsibilities. How had they lasted all those years? Somehow, he'd grown up while she stayed the same. It was a tough blow to his ego when she'd dumped him when he'd needed her most, but maybe he should have seen it coming.
“Can I read this later?”
“Sure. Tired?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He squeezed her hand. “Go to sleep. I'll wake you up when we get the home.” He bet she wasn’t used to doing long drives to and fro, with only a few hours of rest in between. He was.
She leaned over, kissed him on the neck and settled back in the seat. He loved Crissy, no doubt. They needed to talk about what they'd do when she left.
OTHER THAN WATCHING bull riding, Crissy didn't know much about the extreme western sport. She copied the URL of the document she'd been reading and pasted it in a file. Sometimes Nick liked to verify information. Crissy had learned to pay more attention. Of course, that was something Professor Juan always stressed while she was in school.
She glanced at her write up. Would Wyatt like it enough to consent to publication? Hard to tell. She just wouldn't show him right away.
THE LIFE OF A PROFESSIONAL BULL RIDER
By Chrystolle Spencer
About W. Danner
W. Danner is one of the well-known faces in the famous western sport and one of the top 35 bull riders in the world, at least, until his injury. The 24-year-old travels all over the country riding at various events, competing on the Professional Bull Riders (PBR) circuit. The season usually spans January to May then picks up again from August all through October, culminating in the PBR World Finals. During these months, Danner travels from place to place riding almost every weekend. It’s a taxing schedule with little to no sleep. Yet he loves what he does with a passion.
Picking up the interest at an early age, he said, “I really had no other choice than to be a bull rider. I dreamed it, lived it, it’s all I know.”
This is his sixth tour, though set back by his injury, he's eager to make a comeback. He has made good money riding bulls at PBR events as well as from his numerous sponsors. He plans to have enough money to retire by the time he turns 30.
He jokingly says, “I could probably keep going, but I don’t want to be too broken to enjoy life. I don't plan on becoming some washed up bull rider.”
Crissy picked up Wyatt’s journal. She'd spent all of the early hours of the morning reading, after they got in. The more she read, the more she realized that only passion and determination could make anyone choose this kind of life.
A knock sounded at the door. Crissy already knew who it was. She walked over and opened the door. “Hey.” She smiled at him.
“Hey you too.”
She stepped back for him to enter. “Were you able to get a little rest?”
“Enough to keep body and soul together. You?”
“I'm good. Want some pasta? I made some.”
“That'd be great.” He glanced at her laptop. “You're working?”
“Uh, yeah.” She shut the laptop. When she turned, she encountered his raised brows.
“Something I shouldn't see?”
She busied herself retrieving dishes.
“Since you're not answering, should I be concerned?”
“No.” Heat fanned her face.
The suspicion didn't leave his eyes. “Good to know, but I won't be eating. Thanks for the offer. The animals are settled for the night.”
Why hadn't she thought of shutting the laptop before opening the door? Now she looked bad in his eyes. What if she showed him? Not yet. She hadn't even finished. Crissy could literally see her job floating away. Could she even show him knowing how he felt about the media?
He backtracked.
“Wyatt, wait.”
“Crissy, I think we should take a break.” He gestured between them. “I feel things are going too fast.”
“Because?”
“I don't know. I won't keep you from your work. Have a nice night, Chrystolle.”
Her heart wrenched. He hadn’t called her that since the first day. When the door shut quietly behind him, Crissy stood there for minutes unable to move. What just happened? What changed between the time he got in...
Back on the stool, she opened her laptop and the document. For a few seconds, she contemplated deleting the write up. She could just write generally, but that wasn't her agreement with Nick.
Since she got involved with Wyatt, it was as though a part of her had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. It did, but sooner than she expected.
Crissy grabbed her phone and dialed Becca.
“Hey, girl. Three more days.”
“Yeah, and I think I should be preparing my resignation.”
“You're kidding, right?”
Her throat tickled. “Wish I were.”
When she told Becca what had happened, she ended with, “I have two options—show him and then he refuses to let it be published, or scrap it. Judging by his reaction, I'd rather take the second.”
“And lose your job.”
“Rather than make him feel I've betrayed his trust like his ex.”
“I get your point. But I'd love to read it anyway.”
“I'll send it tonight, but it's between us.”
“You can count on me.”
When the call ended, Crissy contemplated calling Wyatt. But what would she say?
Chapter Eleven
Wyatt helped Melissa carry the last cooler into her husband's truck. Nathan had gone ahead.
“Are you going to pick Crissy up?”
“I didn't invite her.” That was what he wanted to do yesterday. But he’d gotten a glimpse of the title of the document before she'd shut the laptop, and he knew he'd been had - THE LIFE OF A PROFESSIONAL BULL RIDER. He shook his head. It could only have meant one thing - she was using him just to get a story. After what Chelsea had done, he should have seen it coming.
“Someone's lost in thought.” Melissa put her hands on her hips. “You've been acting all strange since you got back. Even Noah commented on it.”
“I'm fine.” He closed the tailgate.
His sister didn't look convinced. “In the last week, all we heard about was Crissy. Now you won't invite her to the potluck knowing she leaves in two
days.”
“We've decided to take things slow.”
Melissa opened her mouth and snapped it shut, then she climbed into her truck. “Don't be long.”
“I won't.” He took the back route to the Moore's ranch. It looked like the animals were used to him now. Even the birds didn't make any noise. He fed them and changed their water. He'd cleaned out the stalls the morning prior and didn't have to do it again. His plan had been to make time for them to have a nice day at church but all that—
Wyatt finished the chores and took the back route to his place. After a shower, he got dressed and prepared for church.
Still, he couldn’t shake the morose feeling that hung on him like a wet rag.
CRISSY OPENED UP HER laptop and logged in. She stared at the screen. Of course the article she was writing was staring back at her, the title big and bold. She stepped back and looked at it from the angle Wyatt would have seen it from. She could still see it clear as day. He had to have seen it before she’d gotten a chance to close her laptop. It was the only thing that made sense why his mood would have changed so quickly.
With a frustrated sigh, she slumped down into her chair. What must he be thinking? That she’d come here to get information on him to write an exclusive article on him? She had, hadn’t she? But when she’d set out to get a story, she had no idea that she would be hurting him in the process. She didn’t even know him at the time. She never in her wildest dreams thought she would ... fall in love with him.
The situation was wrong on so many levels. She’d come here to do a job and save her career, that was it. She didn’t plan to hurt anyone. Yet even after she’d known how much he’d been hurt, she wrote the article anyway. How could he not feel betrayed? He must think she was no better than Chelsea, the girl who broke his heart.
What choice did she have now? She’d ruined it with Wyatt and now she would probably lose her job as well.
Bringing up her email account, she attached the article and sent it to Becca’s email address. She’d promised she would send it to her, and maybe after reading it, Becca could advise her on how to proceed. After all, she had no plans to send it to Nick without Wyatt’s consent. That was never the plan, but what were the chances Wyatt would believe her even if she told him?
What had Chelsea reported to the media that had turned him so against having his story printed? He was a very private man, that much she had learned in the time she’d been there. But her article was nothing but good, praising him for his skills and will to overcome his accident. He’d beat the odds, made a recovery, and that was a story worth telling. Whatever Chelsea had said about him, this could be the chance to shed new light on him. But how could she convince him of that? She shook her head. If he didn’t want his story told, who was she to tell it?
If Pam returned tomorrow night, Crissy could leave first thing on Tuesday and Wyatt Danner would never have to see her again. She wouldn’t publish the article. She would just have to start looking for another job.The sound of a truck filtered into the house. Heart in her throat, Crissy went to the door. Disappointment clawed up her belly at the thought of giving Wyatt the explanation he deserved. The rational part of her brain knew she and Wyatt were done before they started. She had come to do a job, and had allowed her heart to get in the way. If it had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have hesitated to tell them so.
She opened the door and stepped outside. Only it wasn’t Wyatt. Instead, a young woman probably in her late twenties climbed down from the truck.
“Crissy, right?” She came forward. “I'm Melissa, one of the Danner kids.”
Surprised, Crissy reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you. How may I help you?”
“We're having a potluck at church today. Actually, I'd reached the church when I thought I should’ve invited you. I thought Wyatt would. Seeing you're dressed, were you going to come?” The woman talked a mile an hour.
“I was thinking of going to one down the street.”
“Then I'd be disappointed. I've been wanting to stop by and introduce myself. This would be the perfect chance to get to know you. I promise you'll have a great time.” She raised her hands as though in prayer. "Please say you'll come."
“Okay, I'll just grab my bag.” How could she say no to the woman?
“Great.” Melissa clapped her hands. "You can ride with me."
Not understanding if Melissa was just trying to be nice or if she was trying to acquire more information about the article she was writing, she hesitated. Did Wyatt tell them? She didn't think so. Wyatt was too private. More than likely the woman had no idea about the article. Still, going to church with her was not a good idea. Wyatt would definitely be there. She bit her lip, staring at her bag. Melissa honked and Crissy jumped. Snatching the bag from the table, she hurried out. Bad idea or not, she owed Wyatt an explanation.
Melissa soon pulled out of the driveway. “I've heard a lot about you.”
Crissy flushed.
“Don't worry. All good things.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s so nice to finally meet you. I heard you're leaving this week. I was hoping you could have dinner with the family, but my naughty brother prefers to keep you all to himself.”
Crissy's face heated. What could she say to that? Melissa didn't require any response as she continued moving seamlessly from one subject to the other.
“Wyatt sure was grumpy this morning. His face looks like a baby’s smacked bottom.”
Was that a common saying, because that was how she thought of Nick's face when he was grumpy. Crissy couldn't help laughing. She loved this woman already. Crissy would've expected Wyatt’s sister to be upset with her but then again, if Wyatt hadn’t told her, she probably had no idea.
Melissa turned into a parking spot in front of an old cowboy church near Hastings. The rustic-styled red barn turned sanctuary looked relatively new.
To one side, tables were set up with cute little checkered tablecloths on each. Another longer one lined the wall with crockpots and foil-closed containers sitting on top. Although everything was covered, the aroma was enticing.
“We'll eat after the service. Oh, that’s Pastor William.”
The man in his forties dressed in a western style shirt, Wranglers, and a Stetson strolled over in their direction.
“Melissa, Nathan was just asking about you. He said you went to pick up a friend.” The pastor gave Crissy a welcoming nod.
“Yes.” Melissa held Crissy’s hand. “Crissy, meet Pastor William. Pastor William, our friend, Crissy.”
“Pleased to have you here, Crissy.” The pastor’s handshake was firm, his grey eyes lit up with a smile. “It’s always good to see new faces around here.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“The service will be starting soon. After, I hope you will stay for some delicious food. The ladies in this community really know how to throw some good fixings together.”
She thanked him again and Pastor William left.
With a nervousness creeping up her spine, Crissy searched the room for Wyatt. It didn’t take long. She found him at the back of the church and he seemed to be in a heated discussion with a young lady. He hadn't seen her yet, and Crissy felt the strong urge to run.
Realizing she didn’t even have a car, she stopped with her hand on the door. Her heart went into a rapid beating. Why hadn’t she driven herself?
“That’s Chelsea.” Melissa said, confirming her suspicions. “His ex. Don't pay her any mind. She did him much evil. Good riddance when they broke up if you ask me.”
That was what he feared she was doing to him.
He turned, his gaze encountering hers for a heart stopping second and then he frowned and strolled away.
The organ struck a tune. It was too late to leave, even if she wanted to.
“Let's go. Service is starting.”
She’d have to talk to him later and clear the air before she left. She didn't expect his forgiveness anyway, especially since he'd tol
d her time without number how much he hated anything to do with the media.
What had she been thinking anyway? They were two entirely different people, living two completely different lives. Soon she would leave and he would forget all about her. Remembering the kisses they’d shared, the private moments, the fun talks ... What had she been thinking?
Chelsea brushed past them, her cloying perfume wrapping around them.
“Ours is not a regular church.” Melissa said as they walked in. “It’s open to everyone—cowboys, non cowboys, large city or just plain country folks who’ve seen the ups and downs on life’s trail. No barriers to keep people away like in traditional churches. Our leaders are called vaqueros. Interesting, huh?”
“Very.” Crissy let her eyes roam. The small choir was decked out in hats and boots. A cowboy played an acoustic guitar, while a lady played the piano. Melissa slid into one pew and introduced Crissy to a quiet looking man on her right. “Nathan, meet Crissy. Crissy, my husband.”
He reached across and shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
The church service was nothing fancy, just a couple of simple hymns before the message started. It was a laid-back, comfortable atmosphere and under any other circumstances, Crissy would have enjoyed it.
As the service proceeded, Crissy tried to concentrate, instead of dwelling on what she needed to do by the end of the service. But with Wyatt sitting just a few pews away, Crissy had a herculean task focusing. Not a good thing.
Chapter Twelve
Wyatt surveyed the delicious looking homemade dishes laid out on the tables. His stomach rumbled. He’d skipped breakfast so as to be able to do justice to the food. Mom, bless her soul, always said there was some competition involved in their annual potluck. The aroma of each casserole—his fab Tex-Mex flair, brunch, vegetarian, squash and pineapple had his juices flowing in no small measure. The food was supposed to be crowd pleasers and they were.