His heart went out to Madeline. He’d guess she had a tough haul ahead of her, explaining to her son that his daddy hadn’t come back.
Perched on the fence behind chute number five, activity all around him, rock music blaring from the speakers, dust whirling up in the evening breeze, he waited his turn in the finals. The first two cowboys had been bucked off. Then Rory Douglas scored an eight-six. It was a solid score. Combined with his points yesterday and his earlier ride today, he was comfortably in the number one spot.
Chase scanned the crowd, easily spotting Madeline sitting next to her son in row three. The floodlights reflected off her face, her expression attentive as she waited for the current competitor to leave the chute. It was clear she appreciated the sport, which made sense if she’d been married to a rider.
He tried to guess her age, early twenties, maybe. She must have been awfully young when she had Riley. He couldn’t help wonder at the story behind that. He assumed there was a story. And then he wondered what it was about her that had his curiosity going.
“Chase?” Zane Merrick interrupted Chase’s thoughts, stepping up on the third rail to come level with him.
“Hey,” Chase greeted, though he kept his gaze on Madeline.
With the top combined score over Friday and Saturday’s rides, Zane was riding tenth in the final round, right after Chase.
“Wanted to say thanks again.” Zane held out his hand.
Chase reluctantly took his gaze off Madeline. He peeled off his glove to shake. “Not a problem.”
“I’m not just talking about the rescue.”
“Sure. Still, not a problem.” Chase was confident any man on the circuit would have done exactly the same as him.
“I don’t know what got into Riley.”
“I take it I look something like his father.” It was the only reasonable conclusion.
Zane gave a shrug. “I wouldn’t have noticed on my own.”
Chase coughed out a short chuckle. “Glad to hear it. I haven’t been paying much attention to your looks either.”
Zane grinned. “But now that Maddy’s pointed it out.”
“She sees it?” Chase’s gaze immediately returned to Madeline in the stands.
He couldn’t help but wonder what that meant. Did it make her sad? Did it bring back the pain of her loss? He hoped not. He sure wouldn’t want to cause her any additional grief.
“It’s there,” Zane said. “He’s only three, and his dad’s been gone for nearly a year.”
Since Chase was human, his heart went out to the kid. “I wish I knew how to help.”
“You didn’t blow him off.”
Chase couldn’t help but be offended at the very suggestion. “What guy’s going to blow him off?”
Riley seemed like a wonderful kid. What grown man would knowingly hurt him?
“Some might. Some might not. Anyway, I wanted to say thanks for being patient with him.”
“He’ll figure it out.” Chase was sure of that.
But for an odd moment, he hoped it took a while. He’d take another hug from the kid. He’d sure take a handshake a hug or anything else from his mom. When she’d brushed his bare shoulder earlier, he felt like he’d been branded.
He hadn’t been with a woman since Laura-Leigh six months ago, so he supposed that might explain the intense reaction. He was still recovering from the breakup, and he wasn’t about to get involved in any kind of relationship. And none of the buckle bunnies tempted him in the least.
But he was tempted by Madeline. He was very tempted. He decided to take it as a good sign.
“What?” Zane asked, bringing him back to reality.
Chase corralled his thoughts. “What, what?”
“You’ve got a funny look on your face.”
“I’m thinking about my ride.”
Zane rapped his hand on the top of the fence. “Looks like you’re planning to enjoy your ride a whole lot more than I’m planning to enjoy mine.”
Chase looked down at Road to Ruin, nicknamed Rocky. The veteran bull was twitching in the chute, tossing his head and pawing the ground. Chase shifted and felt the sharp bite of his ribs. Enjoy was definitely too strong a word.
He touched his hand to his sore ribs. Now that his adrenalin had worn off, he realized the injury was worse than he’d thought. He was still going to ride, but he’d better darn well stay on the bull all the way to the horn. Because landing anywhere but on his feet was going to hurt like hell.
“You ready, Chase?” one of the stock hands asked.
“You bet.” Chase stuffed his hand back into his glove and stepped across the narrow chute, positioning himself above the bull’s back.
Zane clapped him on the shoulder. “See you on the other side.”
“Good luck, man,” Chase responded.
Zane gave him a cocky grin and then dropped to the ground.
Chase turned all of his attention to Rocky. He put a foot on the bull’s back to let the animal know he was there. His rope man, Buddy Roberts, held Chase’s rope taut while Chase rubbed the rosin to warm it. Then he settled his butt on the bull and put his hand through the handle to wrap his rope.
“He favors left on the way out,” the handler said, “and his head goes way low.”
The bull reared up, and someone grabbed Chase’s flak jacket to make sure he didn’t fall. His feet were solid on the fence rails. He wasn’t about to go anywhere. The bull quickly settled.
“Ready?” the gate man called.
Chase stuck his left arm in the air and gave a nod.
The gate opened wide and Rocky flew out. Sure enough, he turned left, and his head went low. Chase stuck to his back, anchoring his hand and holding on with all the strength in his arm. His shoulder burned with the effort.
Rocky’s back legs went high, and Chase leaned backward, holding out his free arm to keep his form. His injured ribs jarred, and he grunted in pain. He was two seconds in. He was hurting, but things were holding together. He kicked with his legs. He didn’t wear spurs, but the form was the same.
Rocky went straight up in the air. Straight was good. He could handle straight and high. But then thebull spun right. And when Chase expected it to correct, it kept going, three hundred and sixty degrees, and then another three-sixty. Its head went low, and its back legs high.
Chase battled to keep form. He knew the horn was less than a second away.
It sounded, and the crowd roared.
As he released his rope, his gaze went involuntarily to Madeline. She was on her feet. Riley was standing on the bench, they were both cheering madly. It was the first time since joining the AEBR tour that he’d had individual spectators. It felt good.
Then Rocky suddenly twisted and kicked, jolting Chase, breaking his grip and sending him sprawling.
He had a fleeting image of Madeline’s horrified expression as he flew through the air. Then he landed on his back, and he felt an agonizing jolt to his injured ribs. Rocky’s face and horns filled his vision. But the bullfighters were there in an instant, drawing the animal away. Rocky knew the drill and headed for the exit.
Chase rolled to his feet. He waved his hat to the crowd to show he was okay. His vision was blurred, and his ribs were on fire. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other as he marched to the exit gate.
The medics were there to meet him.
“The ribs?” the male medic asked.
Chase swore.
“I’ll bet,” the man said, helping him to the medical tent while the crowd behind them cheered for Zane. “Breathing alright?”
“Yes,” Chase managed.
The intense pain was moving to a throb. That was a good sign.
“You didn’t puncture a lung,” the medic said.
“I didn’t puncture anything.” Chase grimaced as he sat down. “But they might be cracked this time.”
“They were cracked last time,” said the medic.
A few minutes later, Buddy Roberts appeared in the
tent doorway. “You’re number one, Chase.”
Chase gave him a thumb’s up.
“Zane got a ninety even. One seventy-seven overall. You ended with one seventy-nine five.”
Chase started to stand.
“Whoa,” the medic said. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’ll get an x-ray in the morning,” Chase said. “Right now, I’m picking up my belt and my check.”
Buddy moved to help him.
“I got it,” Chase said, waving away the offer. He didn’t need a nurse, at least not one that looked like Buddy.
“You sure?” Buddy asked.
“You guys are lunatics,” the medic said.
“Gotta pay the bills,” Chase said. He was still killer sore, but the payday would help ease the pain. So would a couple of shots of whiskey at the afterparty.
He made his way back to the ring where the announcer was killing time, waiting for him to appear for photos. He quickly announced Chase’s presence, and Chase pasted a smile on his face, meeting up with the sponsor at the end of the ring, accepting the weekend’s belt buckle and his check.
On his way out, Zane was there to congratulate him. Chase returned the congratulations, since Zane was well into the money and staying in the top five on points as well.
“Daddy, Daddy!” called Riley’s voice.
The boy came rocketing through the crowd, obviously intent on throwing himself into Chase’s arms.
Chase quickly turned his good side to Riley and clapped an arm around his waist.
“You won!” Riley beamed.
“I won,” Chase confirmed. “You want to see?” He handed the belt buckle to Riley in order to distract him, then he met Maddy’s gaze over his head.
She gave him a helpless expression. It was clear she was at a loss on how to handle the problem.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Your ribs?”
“Took another hit,” he admitted.
Her expression turned immediately to concern.
“But don’t worry,” he quickly added. “I’ll be dancing at the party.”
Riley instantly perked up. “Party? Are we goin’ to a party?”
“It’s for the bull riders,” Maddy told her son.
“Daddy’s a bull rider.”
Maddy didn’t seem to know how to respond.
“Can we go for a little while?” Riley asked. “Is there candy?”
“Cupcakes,” Zane said.
Maddy gave her brother a look of annoyance.
“The kid can have a cupcake,” Zane said.
“It’s two hours past his bedtime.”
“He can sleep in the car on the way home, Matilda.”
Maddy rolled her eyes at her brother, but then she looked down at Riley, who was still clinging to Chase’s leg.
Her gaze softened on her son. “One cupcake.”
“Will Daddy drive us home?” Riley asked, his grip tightening.
It was clear he was afraid Chase would be taken away from him. Chase wondered if, deep down, Riley knew Chase wasn’t his father, and the jig would soon be up. Or maybe it was because his father had been gone for such a long time, and he was worried it would happen again. It was hard to guess what went on inside the head of a three-year-old.
“We have our own car,” Maddy said.
Riley’s face screwed up in a pout. “I wanna drive with Daddy.”
“One more complaint,” Maddy told him in a sharper tone, “and we’ll skip the cupcake altogether.”
Riley compressed his lips. He still looked sullen, but he wasn’t about to complain and lose out on the cupcake. Chase couldn’t help but be impressed by that level of control from a little kid.
*
Riley’s half eaten cupcake was on the table next to where Chase held him in his arms. Her son’s eyes were closed. His head was on Chase’s shoulder, his knees on Chase’s lap, and Chase’s arm held him fast to his chest.
“You’re in pain,” Maddy said to Chase, feeling regret and gratitude in equal measures.
“It’s not too bad,” he responded, though the tightness around his mouth said otherwise.
“This has gone on long enough,” she said, rising and reaching out to take Riley.
Chase had already gone above and beyond the call of duty. And it was her fault he’d gotten injured in the first place. It was obvious he wanted nothing more than to lie down in a bed somewhere and go unconscious for a while.
“He’s almost out,” Chase told her in an undertone. “Give him a couple of minutes.”
“Why are you doing this?” She stayed at the ready.
“He seems like a good kid.” Chase made no move to hand him over.
“His is a good kid. But that doesn’t mean you have to be a saint.”
Chase grinned. “Nobody’s ever called me that before.”
“They should have.” She found herself caught all over again by his compelling eyes.
They were slate gray in the dim light, an odd combination of familiar and mysterious. His brow was dark, nose straight, and his chin was square, covered in raw stubble. His lips were fuller than her husband’s, but the quirky smile was the same.
His eyes went opaque, and she realized he was scrutinizing her the same way she was scrutinizing him. The untamed energy seemed to rise between them again.
“What do they call you?” she asked, grasping at the last thread of their conversation, realizing she was being rapidly drawn in by her attraction to him.
His expression tightened. “Rash, wild, volatile, and irresponsible.”
“You’re warning me off.”
He didn’t deny it.
“Why would you do that?” she asked.
“Reflex, mostly. I warn off all the nice girls that seem interested in me.”
“I can see you have a pretty high opinion of yourself.”
“Maybe.” He might have been joking, but it was hard to tell.
“I’m not coming on to you.” She felt the need to clarify.
At least, she wasn’t doing it on purpose. Were her emotions that transparent?
“I’m glad to hear it,” Chase said. “He’s asleep, by the way.”
Maddy fought off a rising sense of embarrassment. She hadn’t intended to flirt. Sure, she found Chase unaccountably sexy. And it seemed likely that other women did too. But she didn’t think she’d said or done anything to give herself away.
“Hey, little sister.” Zane’s voice was tipsy jovial as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“I can see you’ve been enjoying yourself,” she said, grateful to him for the interruption.
Zane peered at Chase. “You need a shot?”
“Next on my list,” Chase drawled. “Didn’t want to babysit under the influence.”
“You haven’t even had a drink?” Maddy was feeling worse and worse about Riley clinging to Chase.
If anybody deserved a stiff shot, it was the night’s winner, who also happened to be in pain from his injury.
“Let me get you something,” she quickly offered.
“I’ll go,” Zane said.
“No. Stay here. Maybe take Riley so Chase can rest.” She was happy to take the excuse to get away. Chase was far too perceptive for her comfort.
“Sure.” Zane set down his glass and staggered sideways a step.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Chase said to Zane. To Maddy, he said, “Any whiskey they’ve got, neat. Make it a double.”
Weaving her way between tables and revelers, she made her way to the bar across the room.
She had to get her emotions under control. She had no business being attracted to Chase. The situation was complicated enough.
“A double whiskey,” she told the bartender when her turn came in the lineup.
“You got an ID?” the man asked.
Maddy realized she didn’t. She had a credit card, some cash, and her AEBR ticket in her jeans pocket, but that was it.
“Not with me,” she told him.
“Sorry, honey.”
“I’ve over twenty-one.”
“I’m sure you are. But unless you can prove it to me, I can’t serve you.”
“But—”
He looked over her shoulder to the next customer. “Can I help you, sir?”
She clamped her jaw in annoyance. She was going to have to send Zane to buy the drinks. He was only seven minutes older, but he hadn’t been carded since he was eighteen.
Accepting defeat, she pushed away from the bar, retracing her steps to where Zane was sharing some kind of a story with Chase.
Chase looked at her empty hands.
“No ID,” she said.
Zane burst out laughing, and she gave him a punch in the shoulder.
“How old are you?” Chase asked, glancing at Riley then narrowing his gaze on Maddy.
“Twenty-two,” said Zane. “We’re the same age.”
“Twins?” Chase asked.
“Go get the man a whisky,” she told her brother.
“Never get carded,” Zane bragged, voice cocky as he backed away.
“He do that to you often?” Chase asked.
“All the time.”
“You do look younger than him.”
Maddy sat down on the bench next to Chase. “I’m sure I’ll thank you for that someday.”
“But not today?”
“Not today.” She put out her arms to take Riley.
Chase didn’t hand him over, and there was humor in his tone when he spoke. “You wouldn’t expect a guy to have this much trouble getting a shot of whisky at an AEBR event.”
“I’ll take him,” she said.
“He’s fine.”
“I’ll take him,” she repeated, reaching for Riley.
Chase presented her with his shoulder. “We don’t want to wake him.”
“We won’t.”
“I like holding him.”
“No you don’t. You’re being chivalrous.”
“I told you, I’m rash, wild, volatile, and irresponsible.”
“You lied about that,” she said.
“Ask anyone. So, you’re twenty-two?”
“I am.” She gave up and let her arms drop.
“You were nineteen when you had Riley?”
“Congratulations. You can do arithmetic.”
Chase (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 2) Page 3