by Piper Rayne
“Reporting for duty?” she asked, forcing her mind to the moment at hand, and proud of the calm that shone through in her voice. What was Bobby doing down at the barn, anyway? She hadn’t expected to see him again until Friday.
“Leon is out,” he explained. “So, I’m in.”
She blinked. When his dad had fallen from the ladder the summer before, in a simple task gone bad, Bobby had stepped in until they’d recruited Leon. But he’d helped out only on weekends. During the rodeos.
He’d occasionally wandered the property throughout that time, occasionally making it down to the barn or one of the pens—when he hadn’t been burrowed away in the apartment over the garage. But in all that time, the shadows filling his eyes never so much as hinted “put me to work.” So instead, she’d taken the time to chat with him. She’d taken walks with him.
Through laughter and smiles, often by sharing stories about his dad, she’d done her best to help him step outside of his sorrow, even if only for a few seconds. And in doing so, those conversations had helped her to work through her own grief, as well. Because Blake Brandon had been more than a boss to her. He’d been her mentor. He’d been her friend.
Bobby, his entire family, and she, may have been reeling the year before. But if he wanted to work this time around?
Done.
She looked at her watch and held back a teasing grin. “Then you’re late. Leon gets to work at six a.m.” She looked him up and down. “You forget how early life starts on a ranch, city boy?”
One side of his mouth crooked up. “I didn’t forget.” He pushed the hair back off his forehead, and Jewel’s toes curled inside her boots. “I had breakfast with Mom first.”
The words landed an immediate hit to her heart.
“She didn’t have an early surgery today,” he went on. “And she still misses breakfasts with Dad. So . . .” He shrugged, and Jewel lost all attempt at sternness. She wanted to reach out and touch him instead. But not in a sexual way this time.
“You’re still a momma’s boy, aren’t you, Bobby?”
There were three Brandon children, but Bobby was the baby. And honestly, given the age gap between him and his two siblings, he’d been as much a daddy’s boy as he was his momma’s. Both parents had doted on him.
“I prefer to think of it as me being the favorite,” he corrected.
“Nope.” She shook her head, and her tone went melancholy. “Just a sweetheart who would do anything for those he loves.”
Bobby eyed Jewel, but he didn’t voice his words. She got him. And that astounded him. Simply put, she understood who he was and what he was about. Without her, he’d still be drowning in grief. What he didn’t know, however, was why he hadn’t seen that before. Jewel had been his savior the year before. He’d come home, ready to be here for his mother, to help out in place of his dad. And he’d almost sank to the bottom of the ocean with his own hurt.
He hadn’t returned to Missoula until after the first of the year, staying the extra time for his mom, who’d shared a special kind of love with his dad. Or heck, maybe the extra time had all been for him. After revamping the studio over the garage to include a small living space, as well, he’d holed himself up for months. He’d needed the outlet to create. To be himself. He’d needed a respite before going back to reality. And he’d needed Jewel. Only, he hadn’t known it.
She’d pulled him through the worst days of his life, made him feel good in the middle of often crushing pain. And he didn’t know if he’d even thanked her for it.
Plopping his hat on his head now, he looked away from what suddenly seemed like all-knowing eyes. “I’ll be sure to show up on time tomorrow, boss. What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Keep calling me boss, for one,” she mumbled under her breath, and the subtle undertones in her voice had him quickly glancing her way again. But she’d shifted her gaze.
She slipped on a pair of reflecting sunglasses, the wraparound Oakleys making him think far more thoughts than merely being jealous of her talking to another man, and she nodded toward the now-full pen of bulls. “Today we practice. You can be the gateman.”
A baseball cap appeared on her head in the next second, and like a well-oiled team, she and her staff got to work.
A couple of hours later, Bobby was exhausted but exhilarated. He’d pulled the gate open for each bull after Jewel had strapped them with a mechanical dummy and a flank strap, and he was impressed with the quality of those coming up through the ranks. The animals they were working with today were in training. Bulls were either born with a bucking instinct or not, and the majority of these seemed to have what it took. Some had higher intensity than others, their kicks and spins better. Yet, the most impressive sight of the morning had been Jewel.
The woman was in her element, and she knew it. Each move was made with confidence. Each decision based a little on intuition and a lot on knowledge of these four-legged athletes. And Bobby couldn’t get over the way she seemed to “speak” with each bull as they waited their turn.
The last one got loaded in, and due to earlier comments, he knew this was the bull she’d been waiting for.
“Death Comes to Your Door,” Jewel said, though she spoke to no one.
She didn’t immediately strap the fifteen-pound dummy on the bull nor loop the flank strap around the back side of him. Instead, she quietly eyed him through the rungs of the chute. The bull stared back. Then she reached a hand through and put her fingers to his nose. A light smile touched her lips.
“You’re going to be the best someday,” she said, this time clearly speaking to the bull. “You’re my favorite, aren’t you, Death?”
The bull peered back, quiet in the small confines, as if he knew this were a moment not to be interrupted.
“You’re going to make the Double B a lot of money. You’re going to announce loud and clear that I know what I’m doing.” She caressed her hand along the line of his nose. “And you’re going to make me fall in love with this sport all over again.”
Bobby found himself as mesmerized as the bull seemed to be. They all stood silent a few seconds longer, and he had the thought that he wanted to create a sculpture of her exactly like that.
Then in the next moment, everything changed. Determination filled Jewel’s hazel eyes as she stepped up onto the second rung of the chute, and with easy movements, she slid the flank strap over Death. Hooking the rope from beneath, she pulled it up but didn’t tighten it yet. It lay looped and just loose enough that it wouldn’t fall back to the ground. Death bucked. He was primed and already ready to go. Then Jewel repeated similar movements with the mechanical dummy.
The box was made to simulate a rider, and once strapped on would have a pin that attached to the flank strap. When the gate was opened, Death would buck, trying to rid himself of his “rider,” until Jewel used the remote to simultaneously release both dummy and strap, thus rewarding Death with a “win.”
Bobby had seen this very action throughout his life. His dad, a retired bull rider, had started the Double B before he’d been born, and like his two older siblings, Bobby had grown up immersed in the business. Also, like his siblings, Bobby had never had any real desire to go into the business.
But watching Jewel now . . . seeing her love for the very animals that his dad had always been so passionate about . . . He found himself second-guessing why he’d followed his mother and siblings into the medical field.
The sport was intense, and the money potential excellent. However, the money wasn’t a given.
His mother was an anesthesiologist, his brother a general surgeon, and his sister had specialized in otolaryngology. All big moneymakers.
He?
Well, he hadn’t wanted to be in surgeries nor to see patients day in and day out. At least, not in the traditional sense. So, he’d chosen pharmacy. He liked the science of medications, and the job would provide a nice income, as well. What he didn’t like, however, was the hours he’d likely work upon graduation.
Mos
t pharmacy careers were in retail, and those could bring some long weeks. He and Bria had always determined it would be worth it, though, as it would provide the kind of lifestyle they’d once imagined.
But now, as he couldn’t pull his eyes from Jewel, he found himself wanting to be more a part of this world.
She nodded, and he yanked open the gate, and Death was off.
His kicks were high, the extension of his back legs good. His spins were exactly what a judge—and a bull rider—would want to see. And Bobby knew that Jewel was right. Death would not only make the Double B good money, but he would also give Jewel credibility—not that she didn’t already have it. The riders, some of whom occasionally trained here at the ranch, studied the Double B’s animals well before meeting up with them. And like Jewel, they had their eyes on those coming up in a few years, as well. He’d seen all of that last summer, and he had no doubt it was still true. Especially given the stock competing for the Double B that season.
The dummy and strap dropped from around Death, and the bull did as he was supposed to and headed for the exit. Angi and Daniel immediately went into action, readying to return Death and the rest of the yearlings to their pasture, and leaving Bobby and Jewel alone in the now-empty practice pen.
Bobby turned back to Jewel to find her standing inside the chute, and a jolt of awareness shot through him. Fierceness glowed from her eyes. It was pride. And he understood.
Death was another bull bred, thanks solely to her. After Rolls Royce, Bobby knew his dad hadn’t asked questions when she’d come to him with an idea. Jewel was some sort of bull whisperer in the stock contractor world, and they were lucky to have her.
And he found himself now wanting her.
“Death is spectacular,” he said. He draped his arms over the gate as he pushed it closed with an audible click. They stood face-to-face. “Fierce and fiery. And freaking amazing.”
Her gaze flicked over his.
“Kind of like his creator,” he whispered.
He caught a tiny telltale sign of attraction. Her pupils dilated. And though he didn’t know what might be about to happen, he was down for whatever.
She didn’t back away. She didn’t step out of the chute.
Instead, her chin inched up. “Are you flirting with me, Bobby Brandon?”
He smiled. He did love her boldness. “I would certainly like to flirt with you, Jewel Jackson.”
Her eyes went even darker, and as she had a moment before, she studied him. She didn’t respond immediately, and he could see her thoughts working. He wanted to lean the additional few inches and put his mouth to hers, but he wouldn’t do it. Not without an invitation. But he might eventually beg for an invite.
Finally, she spoke. And she shook her head. “Don’t do that to me. You’ll be back with Bria soon, and I don’t want to get in the middle of that.”
He didn’t point out that during the many times he and Bria had taken a break, they’d always had an understanding. They’d been free to date other people. Not that he’d taken that opportunity very often. None of that mattered now, because he wasn’t getting back with Bria.
He didn’t break eye contact. “I told you. She and I are finished.”
“And I told you, I don’t believe you.”
She pulled away then, climbing up the back railing and slinging both legs over, but she looked back at him instead of hopping to the ground. The space between them now was the width of a bull.
“And anyway,” she continued, her tone lighter, “if you two really were finished, the last thing I’d want is to be your rebound girl.”
He sensed that she wanted him to smile. To laugh. She was attempting to turn the moment humorous to relieve the tension. But he didn’t want to let it go.
“You’d never be a rebound girl for me, Jewel.”
Her chin inched up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
He opened his mouth to answer, sensing that she truly wanted to hear what he had to say. But he wasn’t quite certain what to say. Because he just knew? Because she was her?
Nothing sounded like more than any trite line any man might feed any woman.
She stood her ground. “What would make you want to flirt with me now anyway?” All teasing dropped from her words. “After all this time? Even if you have broken up with Bria for good. You’ve known me since we were kids. Why the sudden interest?”
That he could answer. “Because you were there for me last year.”
She waited, clearly needing more.
“You were there for me from day one,” he continued. “There for my family. For my mom. You were the friend I needed when I was stumbling around trying to find myself. You never backed way.”
Hell, she’d come for him.
She would see him watching her working with the bulls. He’d be standing several hundred feet away, simply watching, trying to figure out if he should go down to help, go back “home” to Missoula, or if he should head to the cemetery where they’d buried his father and beg forgiveness for not being around much over the last few years.
It hadn’t just been the loss of his father that had broken him, but the loss of the love his parents had shared. He’d always cherished that love. They had so much pride in each other, such respect and admiration. He wanted that same thing for himself. Yet, in the blink of an eye, because of one misstep, his father had been gone and his mother was left alone. Life could be so unfair.
And though he’d known Jewel had been busy each of those times she’d caught him watching her—she’d been working with one man down, after all—she’d still come to his side. Every time. Kind of like he could see her doing now.
With her legs slung back over the railing, she returned, not stopping until she and he once again stood face-to-face. And then her eyes took on a soft haze. “Of course I was there for you, Bobby,” she whispered. “You were hurting. You needed someone.”
He nodded. “And that’s why, Jewel. That’s why I suddenly see you differently. I never thought about it before, but I have recently.”
He’d thought about it all weekend, in fact. Ever since he’d wanted to ram a fist into Nick Wilde’s face. She’d been the girlfriend his own girlfriend hadn’t been for him. She’d allowed him to get through that time and come out somewhat whole on the opposite side.
“So, yes.” He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek before lightly dragging a finger down to her bottom lip. “I do want to flirt with you, Jewel. I want to do more than that.”
Chapter Four
I do want to flirt with you, Jewel. I want to do more than that.
Once again, Jewel found Bobby’s words running on repeat. He’d uttered those sentences four days ago, and fear had lodged in her chest. She’d wanted him to flirt with her, too. She wanted more than that, too.
But at what cost?
Or maybe there wouldn’t be a cost? Couldn’t they simply have a summer fling before he went back to Bria? She’d certainly crushed on him for long enough. Most girls would jump at the opportunity.
But she’d told him she needed to think about it.
She needed time to make sure she could handle it if it turned into more.
The last thing she wanted was to be hurt come the end of summer, and if any man was capable of hurting her, Bobby would be that person.
She’d given him her thoughts, then she’d suggested he find something else to do for the remainder of the day. He’d taken her suggestion, but at exactly six o’clock the following morning—and each subsequent morning thereafter—he’d reported in for “work.” And he’d also flirted each day. Not a lot, but enough to have her looking forward to whatever he might say next. Enough to have her tossing the occasional flirt back.
It had been a good week. A fun week. At least until today.
Bobby had been different today. They’d driven five hours in the truck together, not to mention loading and unloading the bulls, and there had been no easy banter. No teasing. In fact, he�
��d almost seemed aloof.
Had he changed his mind? Had Bria already gotten back under his skin?
Stepping from the building that housed the public showers, she pushed her wet hair back from her face and headed toward the camping area to find out. During rodeo season, the entire group who made up the sport became more family than individual. Stock contractors, bull riders, bull fighters, as well as spouses and kids often hung out together in the evenings, and usually even camped together. She and Bobby had only three bulls with them that weekend, so they’d brought the trailer that had a separate living space. It contained two beds, each in its own room, and she had absolutely no idea how the night might go.
“Rolls Royce,” one of the riders called out as she returned to camp. Several others sent up a cheer.
She grinned. “You got that right.” Rolls was unridden this season, and every rider there both wanted to draw his name, for a potential higher score, and dreaded having to ride him.
She lowered to the tree stump next to Bobby, the soft cotton of the leggings she’d changed into rubbing against his rougher jeans as she settled into place, and without a word, he handed over a block of wood and a knife.
Comfort eased through her. This was how they’d spent evenings the summer before. Bobby had taught her how to hand carve several animals throughout those weeks, and while the group chatted and wound down from the days, she and Bobby whittled.
“I’d forgotten about this.” She spoke softly, for his ears only. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
The simple words, spoken in his low, slightly gruff voice, sent goosebumps skittering over her body. “Did I miss anything while I was gone?”
Bobby nodded toward Nick and the woman now curled up at his side. “Betsy showed up.”
Betsy was a buckle bunny well known in the Montana rodeo world.
“Good for him.” As she said the words, she glanced back over at Bobby, and it was as if that moment at the cherry festival was happening all over again. The moment when she’d first thought he wanted to kiss her. He didn’t look away; she held her breath. She wanted this man to kiss her. She wanted to do more.