I Don't Want to be Married

by Sonja Gunter

  “I am, but worried about Tom.”

  “No need, he hasn’t checked in yet.” He held out his hand. “And I’m driving to the hotel. Give me the keys.”

  Rosalind handed them over to her adoring, caring husband.

  Chapter 38

  Lying awake waiting for time to fly, Rosalind eyed the clock for the hundredth time.

  Only four, I still have an hour.

  For the first time in ages she’d developed pre-competition jitters. The anticipation of today’s run brought about a rush of emotion. She loved the crowds, the noise, the smells, and the adrenaline rush of each ride. She’d miss all of it, but her mind was made up. Win or lose, this was to be her last professional ride.

  In order for the riding camps and sanctuary to be successful, she’d need to stay at home, not on the road. If a student needed her at a competition, she’d attend as an instructor, not to ride.

  Grandpa and Sam had been right. Life was too short not to take chances on things.

  Allan rolled onto his side, draping an arm across her. Inching slowly away from the comfort of his warmth, she managed not to wake him. Rosalind took a bottle of water and drank from it as she paced the room.

  Yesterday’s qualifying run time of fifteen-point-eighty-eighty seconds had placed her in the lead, not even touching her best time. Most of the other riders were a full second behind. She knew from experience, riders rode slow on purpose in order to hide how they might give the leader a run for the money.

  She set down the water bottle, put her hand to her mouth, and rushed into the bathroom. Barely making it to the toilet, she lost her cookies. When the heaves stopped, she sat on the floor with her head in her hands.

  She’d never had nerves before. Why now?

  She got to her feet, peeled off her panties and bra, turned on the shower, and moved into the stream of cold water. It quickly switched to hot, easing away some of the tension and calmed her nausea.

  “Honey, would you like breakfast or me?”

  She whipped open the shower curtain. Allan leaned against the doorframe, naked.

  “I would love to take advantage of what you’re showing off, but I can’t have hanky-panky the day of competition. I broke the tradition yesterday for you. It saps your strength. Guess it’s just breakfast.”

  She rinsed her hair, reached for the bar of soap, and did her best to ignore him.

  Laughing, Allan shoved the curtain to the wall. “Then get out. My turn.”

  “Aren’t we pushy this morning?”

  She stumbled and fell into his warm, wet body. He caught and imprisoned her. She felt his hard erection pressing against her. Their mouths met. For a moment she allowed the sexual hunger to take over.

  Rosalind held his hands to stop them from further exciting her. “Allan, please I can’t,” she pleaded.

  “If you say so.” He moved away. She tumbled out of the shower in an unladylike manner and grabbed a white towel.

  “Close the door. Thanks, honey.”

  She did as he asked, but then leaned against it, breathing hard. What would be the harm in a little morning delight?

  Flinging off the towel, she reopened the bathroom door. One step inside and another wave of nausea hit her. Dropping down to the toilet, she vomited.

  The curtain swished back and a spray of water fell on her.

  “Rosalind. What’s wrong?”

  She raised her eyes to his and shook her head. “Maybe nerves.”

  He knelt next to her, brushing the hair from her face. He helped her to her feet. “Should you ride today?”

  “Have to. I need to win. This will be my last professional race,” Rosalind replied.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Not sure, this has never happened before.”

  “It’s still early, lie down for a while,” Allan said.

  “Yeah, maybe I should.”

  Naked, he escorted her to the bed. She sank down and brought her knees to her chest, lying in a fetal position. She felt the blanket cover her and his gentle kiss on her cheek.

  “I’ll get dressed and get you some crackers and Sprite.”

  “Thank you,” Rosalind murmured. Closing her eyes, she willed her stomach to calm down.

  Allan hurried from the room and almost ran into Joe who was leaving his room. “Morning.”

  “Morning, Mr. Smith. Everything okay?”

  “No, Rosalind’s not feeling well. What time should we be at the arena?”

  “That’s not like her. The run is scheduled at ten o’clock. She needs to be there one hour before her start time. Me and Walt will take care of Dawn till you guys get there.”

  “Thanks, any word yet if Tom’s shown up?”

  “No one’s seen him,” Walt said. “He has till noon to sign in.”

  “Call if you hear anything.” Allan patted Joe’s shoulder.

  “Will do. I hope our champion is good to go.”

  “She should be. See ya,” Allan said. Joe nodded and they went in different directions. Before he reached the front desk, his phone vibrated in his pocket. The screen lit, blocked ID.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Smith, Sheriff Hoffman. We’ve received notice from the Oklahoma Police. Tom Clark’s truck has been found abandoned near the fairgrounds. I’ve given them your number. You should be receiving a call from them.”

  Allan paced the length of the small area. “Thank you, Sheriff. Will there be extra protection at the rodeo?”

  “Yes. No need to worry.”

  “I want the man found before Rosalind’s ten o’clock run,” Allan demanded.

  “Everyone is working to achieve that goal, Mr. Smith. I’ll let the local police know the time frame. I’ll keep you abreast of any new developments. Talk to you later.”

  “Thanks again.” Allan scanned the lobby. Families and men dressed like cowboys. None seemed to notice him. With the crackers and soda in hand he headed back to the room.

  I should tell her she can’t compete today and take her home.

  He smiled. Home. Not New York, but home in Minnesota. Crazy how things could change in a month’s time. He stopped in front of their room. At a sudden thought, his eyebrows rose. He pursed his lips, bracing his hand on the door.

  Could she be pregnant? Holy crap.

  His second rule for dating woman was to use protection when having sex, but he hadn’t with Rosalind.

  The odds just changed. Grinning from ear to ear, he slid the key card into the lock.

  Chapter 39

  Once the door shut behind Allan, Rosalind ran to the bathroom. Groaning, another round of nausea hit her. When it subsided, she brushed her teeth and washed her face.

  What’s wrong with me? I can’t be throwing up during my run. Should she withdraw? When pigs fly. Not when she was this close to gaining respect as a trainer.

  Gingerly she walked from the bathroom and eyed her show outfit. The blue front snap shirt with a paisley design on the sleeves, and her Wranglers lay on the bed. She pushed them aside. Sat and waited. After several deep breaths she stood and put on her sports bra and shirt.

  Dry heaves attacked her. She bent forward to ease the queasiness. It left without a visit to the bathroom. She finished dressing by tugging on her Justin two-toned boots. Rosalind stood and held her hands on her stomach. The sick mawkishness had subsided, but would it last?

  Was it time for her period? It’d never given her this much trouble.

  She counted days. Sixteen, seventeen . . . nineteen, twenty . . . thirty, thirty-one.

  Today was the fourth. It should’ve come last week.

  Her eyes widened. The door opened and Allan came in. Rosalind dropped her hands.

  “You’re awake? Are you sure yo
u should be?” He set the crackers and soda on the table.

  She couldn’t look at him when this much concern was evident in his voice. As a distraction so he wouldn’t see her suspicions, she bent down and fussed with her boots. “Yeah, I’m fine. Must’ve been something I ate.”

  He came up behind her, put his hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps—”

  “If you’re ready, we should get going. I want to see Dawn.” She moved away and snagged her hat.

  “I ran into Joe. He and Walt left already. They’ll take care of Dawn till we get there.”

  “Good, saves time. I’ll bring these in case I need them,” she said and took the crackers and Sprite.

  Allan held the door and they walked to the truck. He chatted about the rodeo. She nodded and smiled, only half listening.

  Should she tell him her suspicions? They’d never discussed children.

  “You can drive,” she announced, knowing she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the road.

  “Great! I’m beginning to like driving a truck.”

  “Don’t get used to it, City Boy. This one is mine.”

  “I see how it’s going to be. What’s yours is yours,” Allan joked and opened the passenger’s door.

  “That’s right.”

  He kissed her. She gave him a sassy smile and buckled her seatbelt. She was tempted to fold her arm around her abdomen, but instead slid her hand down her thighs.

  She had to find a way to get a pregnancy test without Allan knowing.

  They arrived at the Super Barn and found it in chaos. Trucks, trailers, and people everywhere. He parked and they went to find Walt. Several people called out greetings. She did the same and to her horror the earthy smells caused her to gag. She puckered her lips together to stop from retching and coughed to conceal her actions.

  “Mornin’, Rosalind.”

  She and Allan turned. Walt had found them.

  “How’s our girl this morning?” she queried, discreetly looking for the closest restroom.

  “Dawn is ready. She’s been walked and brushed. I put on the shin guards too.”

  “Thanks, sorry for being late,” she said as they continued on their way to the stall.

  “We got you covered,” Walt claimed. “Heard you weren’t feeling well.”

  “Something I ate,” she lied, hating it. Dawn came into view. “I’m well enough to ride. Any word on the competition?”

  She held a sugar cube to Dawn. Allan had taken on a serious look, becoming quiet.

  “Alisa Highland. She arrived after you left yesterday.” Walt unlocked the stall. “She did hers in fifteen-ninety.”

  Rosalind’s hands fisted. No way, she can’t take first. “Point taken.”

  Then a thought came to her. Maybe Alisa could help get a pregnancy test. She’d know what to do.

  “Is there a class I can take?” Allan leaned against the door. “Because I can’t understand what you guys say most of the time. Did I miss something? Who’s Alisa?” He placed his hands on his hips and waited for an answer.

  “She’s a rival and is sending Rosalind a message,” Walt answered. “The hundredth of a second difference means she’s here to win.”

  “You were riding faster at the ranch,” Allan pointed out. “She doesn’t have a chance.”

  Rosalind and Walt exchanged looks. Her lips curved upward.

  God, how I love him.

  “She and I go way back. Sometimes I win. Sometimes she does,” Rosalind said and put a hand on Allan’s arm. “She’s running a new colt, but he’s been unpredictable. I’ll have to shave off time to take the prize.”

  “Allan, we could use your help unloading,” Joe interrupted.

  “Sure.” He turned to follow Joe.

  “I’ll stay here,” Rosalind chimed in. “If anyone wants to know.”

  “Okay, sorry.” Allan stepped to her and planted a sensual kiss on her lips. “I’ll be back.”

  She appraised the masterful movement of his sexy ass and smiled. The Wranglers she’d bought for him fit like a choke strap did on a Saturday night. She blinked to clear her mind; his ass was what got her into trouble in the first place.

  It wasn’t until he disappeared from sight that she grabbed the feedbag and placed it on Dawn.

  “Hey, girl,” she cooed. “Did you have a good night? I did, but my morning wasn’t nice.”

  Dawn nudged Rosalind with her nose, then snorted.

  “That’s my girl.” Rosalind smiled, but it soon faded.

  One person was missing. Sam. He would’ve been telling her what each of the riders had done and given her advice on how to outride Alisa. Now she had to figure it out on her own. Brushing aside a tear, she began her checks.

  I’m a basket case.

  Next, she laid the saddle blanket on Dawn’s back, took off the feedbag, and reached for her saddle from the bench outside of the stall.

  “If it isn’t the love of my loins.”

  She instantly stiffened. That voice belonged to only one person. Replacing the saddle, she pivoted to face Tom. He stood a foot from her.

  Shit.

  She looked past him for Allan, Walt, or Joe. They weren’t coming. She shifted her eyes to the adjacent stall. It was vacant.

  No help there.

  Rosalind sidestepped in that direction to avert and size-up Tom. He wore his bull spurs and held a short whip. Both dangerous weapons when it came to fighting.

  “What do you want, Tom?” She kept moving to find freedom.

  Stay calm. Keep him talking.

  “It should be obvious, my little filly. We’re goin’ have us some fun before our day begins. You know, like old times.”

  He moved closer. She dropped back, hitting the gate. He mirrored her movements, blocking her path. With nowhere to go, she backed into the empty stall. Tom positioned himself in front of the entrance, fingering the leather whip.

  She was running out of options. She’d have to stand and fight.

  “Not a good idea, Tom,” she hissed. We never celebrated until after the competitions, remember, Tom?” She put loud emphasis on his name. The wall met her back. Rosalind slipped off her gloves, letting them fall, and scanned the area to her right.

  Thank the Lord, she saw movement.

  He licked his lips and took another step closer. “As I recall, we did some pretty heavy tongue twisted kissing in the day.”

  “That was a long time ago, Tom,” she snapped and slowly inched to the corner.

  He turned toward her, releasing a low, horrible laugh. “My palms are itching to hold a very pretty rose that you have covered.” He cupped his groin and gyrated his hips obscenely. “Come on, Rosalind, I know what you like.”

  Ignore him. Breathe, in, out. Keep him talking.

  “I’m married, Tom,” she snapped, mortified by his actions. “Those areas belong to my husband! You need to leave.”

  Damn. Where is everyone, anyone?

  He laughed and took a step toward her. Without any hesitation, she took matters into her own hands. She rushed at him. He dropped the whip, but reached out and gripped her arm. Screaming, she pounded on him. Dawn snorted and kicked the adjacent wall.

  “You whore! You’re mine,” Tom roared, pulling her against him. “You’re gonna suffer for not marrying me.”

  She struggled and won a small victory when he groaned. It lasted only a second. He shoved her against the metal beams. She cried out at the piercing pain as they dug into her shoulder blades. He came at her. She flinched, but then her self-defense lessons kicked in. She raised her knee, missing his groin, but hit his leg.

  Tom raised his hand in the air and she lifted her forearm for protection.

  Allan strode inside the trailer and lifted a bag of f
eed. “Do you guys always accompany Rosalind?”

  “No, Sam was her right-hand man. I’ve gone a couple of times,” Walt stated.

  Allan hoisted another sack on his shoulder and Walt locked the trailer. He turned. “What do you . . .?”

  “Tom’s here,” Joe yelled from a distance. “The police are combing the area. Have you seen him?”

  “Rosalind.”

  All three of them said her name. Allan dropped his load and sprinted for the stalls.

  A woman’s scream vibrated through the Super Barn. Horses nickered and whinnied. He ran faster and spotted Tom with his arm raised, whip in hand. Allan leapt on him. They fell to the ground. He groaned as his knee hit the hard floor first. Waves of pain exploded throughout his body. Before he could recover, Tom landed on top of him. He shoved him off and they exchanged punches.

  “You piece of shit. No one touches my wife!”

  With his left hand fisted, Allan swung. Flesh smashed flesh, and he heard the sickening thud of bones cracking.

  He bucked Tom off. Now they stood face to face, circling each other. Blood ran from Tom’s nose.

  “She’s good, isn’t she? She should be mine. She can’t love you. She loves me,” Tom boasted and wiped his mouth.

  Allan lunged forward, fists clenched, but he moved too slow and Tom’s punch connected with his ribs. Allan’s feet slipped out from under him. Thrown backward, he landed on the ground again. This time he rolled and braced for Tom’s next attack.

  “Stop where you are, Tom Clark.”

  Five police officers with guns drawn crowded into the stall. Two of them grabbed and held Tom.

  Scrambling to his feet, Allan found Rosalind with her head lowered, squatting in the corner and covering her stomach with her arms.

  “Honey, it’s done.” Allan tried to keep his worry from his voice. “It’s all over, I’m here.”

  He knelt in front of Rosalind. She raised her head. He inhaled at the sight of her swollen right cheek, blood smeared from a split lip.