Krista was sure her cheek had scorch marks. “I might move around an inch or two, maybe go to the dance later.”
She could feel his full smile against her cheek, a reward for her sass. Yep, Will’s smile took top honors. His hand fell away from her waist and he reached up to adjust his hat. Tension tightened his features.
Krista finally connected the dots. He wasn’t sending mixed signals. He was in pain. “Will. Your shoulder. You’ve hurt it.”
“It’s fine. It’s stiff from the work I’ve done this week setting up fence panels and moving stock in. I’ve got a physio appointment next week. All’s good.”
“But it was hurting last week, too. At the wedding. You acted as if it was nothing. And now you’ve pushed it too far. You could seriously reinjure yourself, if you’re not careful. Are you sure you should be doing the ride?”
“Krista. I’m not going to cancel the ride. Too many people are counting on me. Alyssa, Jacob, the hospital kids...no.”
“I’m not saying you should cancel...just postpone it.”
He shook his head. “Krista, I’ll see you later.” He headed for the announcer’s booth.
He was being stubborn. Krista had to go directly to the source. She caught up to Alyssa as she was about to follow Will.
“Look,” Krista said, “I don’t know if you’re aware, but Will’s shoulder is not good.”
Alyssa stepped well within Krista’s space. Clear intimidation. “It’s been ‘not good’ for a year now. I’ve been aware of that longer than you.”
Krista took a step back. “I understand. Only it seems to have gotten worse.”
“Is that what he’s told you?”
“In not so many words. Janet’s also worried.”
“She loves to worry. What’s your point?”
“He’s doing the ride because he doesn’t want to let you down. But if you assured him he could postpone the ride if necessary, he might do it.”
Alyssa’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me that I should throw the charity ride because Will has a sore shoulder?”
“It’s serious—”
“What happens to the kids in the hospital is serious, Krista. Life-or-death serious. The money the sponsors paid is serious. Your opinion is not. Unless Will comes to me and says he’s pulling out, nobody will stop it from happening. Not even you, Krista Montgomery. Now I’ve got a show, a serious show, to run.”
Alyssa disappeared up the stairs. Krista finally understood Janet’s fear for her son. It was squeezing her own heart, and there was nothing she could do.
* * *
“AND NOW I’LL turn it over to the star, two-time rodeo champion and Spirit Lake’s number one cowboy, Will Claverley!”
Amid hoots and hollers, Alyssa handed Will the mic. “Your speech is in your pocket,” she ground out through a plastered smile.
Shoot, he’d forgotten to have it ready. He fumbled in his shirt.
“Sorry about this,” he muttered into the mic. “I guess I figured I had to give the nod first.”
The Friday night crowd—off work and with beers in hand—laughed.
Alyssa’s script in hand, he scanned the lines again. When he’d read it earlier, it had sounded like someone trying to imitate him. Which, given it was written by Alyssa, made sense. He probably couldn’t have done better on his own.
Settling his focus on the stands where all the major donors of the ride were seated in the VIP section, he caught sight of Krista on a platform at the bottom.
Speak from the heart, she’d said.
No. He’d stop and start like an old truck. Best to stick to the script.
“First, on behalf of the Claverley Family, I want to thank you for coming to the Fifty-eighth Annual Spirit Lake Pro Rodeo. We start planning the next rodeo the day the last one ends—” not literally true but close enough “—and we’re always looking to make it bigger and better.”
Actually, there’d been a fair amount of family discussion about how it had gotten too big already. His shoulder was acting up because they’d had to erect far more temporary pens for the stock than they’d capacity for.
“This year it’s my great honor to be doing a special celebrity ride.” Some celebrity he was when Krista probably didn’t even know what he was champion in. And hadn’t seemed interested in knowing.
He searched the stands for her again. She wasn’t listening to his speech. Instead, she was taking a picture of a family, trying to squeeze in everyone from the grandparents down to the babies. She took a step backward. If she didn’t watch, she’d fall right off the platform, a good ten-foot drop. Weren’t there supposed to be portable benches underneath? He was sure he’d asked to have them in place. How had that slipped inspection?
He focused on his page. “I first heard about the Calgary Children’s Hospital when Alyssa told me about her nephew’s harrowing journey with cancer. I—” Krista was right on the edge. Nobody seemed to have warned her. He lowered his sheet. “Krista Montgomery. Please step away from the edge.”
Krista lowered her phone, registered the drop and stepped forward. She waved at him and grinned. He felt a lift, that same lightness as when she’d hung his arm around her shoulders and the stress and scramble of the week had fallen away. “We’ll have to deal with that drop. Someone else might be as oblivious to danger as my girlfriend.”
He stopped. He’d said Krista was his girlfriend, not to whomever they happened to bump into, but to the whole crowd. Hundreds.
From the distance of sixty, seventy yards away, Krista cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Honey, those someone elses are called cowboys!”
The crowd roared.
Alyssa edged up to him. “Just finish the speech,” she hissed.
It was impossible now. He’d gone so far off track, it didn’t make any sense to continue. He’d spent all day looking forward to being with Krista. Since Caris’s wedding, he’d counted the days to when he’d see her next. He had missed her bright chatter, the way she walked with so much bounce her hair lifted off her shoulders, the way her hands felt on his aching shoulder. The anticipation had carried him through the worsening pain in his arm.
He’d made plans for what they’d do when they were together again, what he’d say. He’d started to wonder if Krista might not make the lousy wife she’d claimed at the wedding. They’d both grown in the past ten years, including, it appeared, his feelings for her.
And today, when she’d slipped up beside him, fitted herself to his length and smiled up at him as if there was no place she’d rather be...well, he was sure it wasn’t all one-sided on his part. Her as his fake girlfriend was now an excuse until he found a way to convince her to be his real one.
The crowd had quieted, waiting for him to finish.
Be honest.
Speak from the heart.
“Krista just told me some great news. My nephew, Austin—some of you might’ve met him already. He said his first word today. I won’t share what it was because it was somebody’s name and we’re hoping to connect with her first. But I gotta say, my nephew’s one smart kid. Because he said the name of someone who isn’t technically family, but Austin has already figured out that family’s more than people with the same last name. And that’s how I see us all here tonight, and the way I see those kids dealing with illness head-on at the hospital. Here’s to hoping we can help all of us, and all of them take a step away from the edge.”
The crowd broke into applause and after a hasty thanks he happily relinquished the mic to the rodeo announcer.
He didn’t stick around. He had bleachers to move into place and then—Krista.
* * *
FROM WHERE SHE was handing out her business cards in the VIP section, Krista glimpsed Will and his crew do a final check on the portable bleachers. She’d have to motor through her spiel faster to get back to him so
she could play the part that he’d announced to the entire audience.
His broadcast of their personal relationship had made it way more real, something she couldn’t escape from. She sensed people’s inspection, scrutinizing her every move and word. A kind of rodeo reprise of her social media debacle.
“Hi there,” she said to a woman in denim and diamond earrings, a glass of wine in hand. “I’m Krista Montgomery, offering Speed Spa Saturday over by the food trucks tomorrow. A ten minute pedicure for ten bucks. All proceeds go into the same bucket as Will’s charity ride.”
The woman winked, tucked the card inside her purse. “I like your game. You better hurry along. Your guy’s waiting.”
So he was at the bottom of the stairs. He gave a little chin lift. She was tempted to drop the cards and rush to him, but what then of her business? She held up ten fingers to indicate how much longer she’d be. He took out his phone and sat on the bleachers. He’d wait but she was on his clock.
She was done in eight minutes. Will watched her descend, his gaze fastened to her, not unlike how Ryan had bound his attention to Laura coming down the outdoor wedding aisle. Krista felt the betraying heat of a blush and when Will reached out his hand and she took it before everyone gathered here today—Stop: he’s playing to the crowd. That’s all.
“Come,” Will said, “I’ve got something to show you.”
He led her around the arena to the horse pens. “If you’re taking me to a horse,” she said, “you know I’ll say that it’s big and beautiful and please, please, don’t make me come any closer.”
“No,” Will said, “not a horse. At least, not today.”
At the top of a dirt access lane by the dance hall, the food trucks were lined up to sell burgers, ice creams and jerky. Krista scanned the area for a likely spot for her to set up her spa booth. Nothing. It would all be noisy, smelly or both. She looked over her shoulder as Will pulled her along. That stretch of grass by the fence might work.
“Will, what about—”
“Here,” he said at the same time, “what do you think?”
She followed the direction of his outstretched arm. There, on the hill, tucked among cottonwoods, stood the white gazebo from Laura’s wedding. The white and blue gauzy curtains still hung, fluttering in the breeze.
Krista had no idea what he was going on about.
“It’s a ways away from the traffic, but I figured you’d prefer privacy and people can still see it from the trucks.”
He had made a spa for her. They’d not seen each other all week, but he’d been helping her to succeed.
“No, it’s...perfect. But how did you move it?”
“Same way we got it into place the first time. Set a pallet on the bale forks and lifted it up. It’s not eight feet across, no heavier than a bale. Come.”
He tugged on her hand which he still held and which she’d made no attempt to remove. For appearance’s sake, of course.
Will highlighted additional features of the gazebo as they stepped inside the airy hexagon. “The blue barrel over on the side is for the waste water, and I set up a hot water urn—” he drummed his fingers on the metal side “—to the generator for your basin. There’s a cooler for cold water, too.”
“Absolutely wow. Thank you. This is way beyond the call of duty. Not that you had to do anything at all,” she added hastily.
“Didn’t feel like a duty,” he said softly.
There was no one around and he was acting as if they were still a couple. Maybe it was easier for him to stay in the role all the time. “You better not have busted up your shoulder doing this.”
“I repeat. Pallet, bale forks.”
Krista assessed the interior for her purposes. All the wedding paraphernalia had been replaced with a wood patio table, the urn and two lawn chairs. The chairs were wooden with thick cushions in blue and white stripes.
Krista spun to Will. “These are from Janet’s deck. I noticed them at the wedding. She’ll kill you if she finds out you took them.”
“She already found out. She and Dad were sitting on the other two when I came in for them.”
“She let you take them?”
“No, but Dad did.” Will sprawled on a lawn chair and indicated the other for her.
She sat down gingerly, still not believing her luck. “I always liked your dad.”
“Everybody does. He doesn’t have an enemy in the world.”
“Good way to live,” Krista said absently, mentally staging the space with her product and gear.
“The only way to live,” Will said, “if your last name is Claverley. We built this place on hard work and a reputation for fair dealings.”
The rack of pedicure lotions she was imagining collapsed at Will’s casual arrogance. “And Montgomery. My sisters and I run businesses, too. Bridget runs a third-generation family restaurant, you know. The Claverleys didn’t invent honesty.”
Will pulled himself up in his seat. “I didn’t mean any offense, Krista. Just filling you in on my family.”
“Because of the fake couple thing? The more I learn the better I can play the part?”
His eyes locked onto hers. “Because I want you to know me better so you can feel closer to me. Because I wanted to bring a bit of my world into yours.”
Krista at once melted and jerked to attention. Will was up to something. Even from this distance, the rodeo announcer’s voice still floated up to them, calling out entrants. The patter between him and the rodeo clown and the crowd’s easy laughter at their jokes were like a TV show running in the background.
“Hey, shouldn’t you be down at the arena? Networking or whatever you call it when a bunch of you lean on a fence.”
Will relaxed into his chair, stretching his legs into her space. “My phone’s on if anybody needs me.”
“Good,” Krista said. “Time you gave your shoulder a rest anyway.”
“You know,” he said, “outside of my family and Brock, my old rodeo buddy, you’re the only person today who’s asked about my shoulder.” He hooked his boot under her ankle. She supposed that a particularly astute eye might gaze up the hill, along the stairs to note his casual yet intimate move.
She nodded at where their ankles crossed. “This for the fakery bit?”
“I’m not faking anything right now.”
He had to be, because otherwise it meant—no, things were clear between them, but—the gazebo, the public declaration of her as his girlfriend—he was making this far too real. Except hadn’t they agreed that they weren’t suited?
“Exactly. I’m the girl who can’t ride, has no idea what a bale fork is, much less how you make them.”
“Horses aren’t a big mystery.”
“Maybe not to you, but I know more about life on the moon than about them.”
“You been to the moon?”
Relieved they were in safer territory, Krista settled into her chair. “Nearly. Mara and I traveled every continent with my parents.”
“Every continent? Including Antarctica?”
“Yep. Only for three days, though, when I was eleven.”
“Laura was always telling us your stories about traveling around. I guess Spirit Lake was pretty dull when you came here for high school.”
“Yes and no. My parents still took us on trips during the holidays, but I also got excited to come here where I already had friends and family.”
“Outside of the rodeo circuit, I haven’t been anywhere.”
“You’re thirty. You must’ve been somewhere.”
He squinted, as if trying to remember. “I’ve been out to my dad’s cousins’ ranches.”
“Ranches? As in plural?”
“One in British Columbia and then there’s another in Ontario. There’s another one out in Nova Scotia. But that’s a fruit farm. Haven’t been there.”
“Even the fruit farm. Horses, cattle, some grain.”
“So... I was wondering...do you make hay?”
Will smiled. “We have a section of hay, yes.”
“You realize that I have no idea what you just said?”
“How about I take you around one day?”
“Sure.” Except one day would happen after this weekend when they were no longer a fake couple...or anything, for that matter. She centered on where her white boot rested on his dark brown one. “So we would revert to friends status at that point, right?”
His hazel eyes bored into hers. “No. More.” She sucked in her breath. He wanted her as his girlfriend, his serious, maybe-marriage girlfriend. Ten years ago she would’ve leaped at the chance. And hadn’t her imagination just converted coming down the stairs of a rodeo stand into a wedding scene?
But...her bulging salon calendar wouldn’t fit into his strict ranching routine. Gauzy gazebos aside, she needed to be in town five, six days a week to run her business, and he couldn’t exactly bring the ranch to her. Which meant he’d expect her to come to him. And now that she’d found her passion, she wasn’t about to give it up for crazy big horses and bloated cows and bales. Neither could she ever see him caring about lotions or nail polish. A relationship might work if they both had a common passion—cooking, squash, traveling—but they didn’t. She would have to pretend an interest or he would, and that would not end well.
She opened her mouth at the same time a distressed shout and gasp rose from the crowd. The rodeo announcer came on. “Rider Brock Holloway is down. Our paramedics are coming in now.”
Will bolted to his feet. “I’ve got to go.”
Brock must be the rodeo friend he’d mentioned. “Do you want me to come?” she called after him.
“No,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
He slipped through the fence and ran down the dirt lane. She should follow him, regardless of what he said. To do what, though? Play the part of the rodeo champ’s girlfriend or be his real one?
Her Rodeo Rancher Page 11