by JoAnn Ross
Sunny sighed. “I wasn’t hungry.”
“I can understand that. But a girl’s gotta eat. Rooster and I figured we’d take you out to breakfast at the O.K. Corral Café before we head over to the fairgrounds.”
“Oh, I can’t…”
Sunny was about to insist that she couldn’t go to the rodeo, but stopped. Since there was no future for her and Clint, it was better to make a clean break. But even as her head tried to look at the situation rationally, her heart knew that she couldn’t leave without ensuring that Clint had survived the dangerous competition.
“It’ll take me fifteen minutes to get ready,” she said.
Dora’s satisfied smile suggested she’d never expected any other answer. “Take your time. There’s still another hour before Clint’s got to ride Lightning Jack.”
“Lightning Jack?” Sunny had studied the program carefully yesterday, and knew that the horse was nearly as bad as Desperado. “What bull did he draw?” she asked.
Dora’s eyes shifted away, pretending intense interest in the painting lying on the carpet across the room. “Isn’t that something?” she mused. “I wonder what Geronimo’s doin’ wearing a Sioux chief’s feather headdress?”
“Creative license,” Sunny guessed. “Dora?” Her tone had regained its strength. “What bull did Clint draw?”
Dora heaved a heavy sigh. “Terminator.”
The same bull that had gored that young cowboy yesterday. This bull didn’t just want to throw any cowboy who had the audacity to try to ride him, he wanted to kill him.
Sunny’s heart sank.
SUNNY, DORA AND Rooster arrived at the arena just in time to watch Charmayne spur Buttermilk around the barrels to a blazing fifteen-second time that easily captured first place. Dressed in a sparkly red-white-and-blue shirt, her black hair flying out from beneath the snowy white Stetson as she charged toward the finish line, Charmayne looked like nothing less than a champion.
As was Clint. Once again Sunny reminded herself that she’d chosen well. That thought, which should have given her some small satisfaction, only made her feel even more miserable.
Lightning Jack lived up to his name, twisting and turning and bucking so hard that even knowing how good Clint was, Sunny was amazed he was able to stay on the brone’s back. Today he managed to bail on his own, without the help of the pickup rider.
“One down, one to go,” Rooster said with obvious pride as Clint’s first place win was announced to thunderous applause.
That he was popular with the crowd was obvious. That he was even more popular with Charmayne was also obvious. The winning cowgirl planted a victory kiss on his mouth in front of the spectators, earning an appreciative roar from the stands, and loud hoots from the cowboys on the sidelines.
“He definitely earned that four thousand dollars,” Dora agreed.
As depressed as she was, Sunny felt some small pleasure in havingused her wish to get Clint to come to Tombstone. Even if he didn’t win the bull-riding competition, with his winnings plus the money in the barbecue jar, he was going to go home nine thousand dollars richer.
Sunny watched the calf roping, steer wrestling and bareback riding in a worried haze and was only vaguely aware of the action. All her thoughts, and her fears, were focused on Clint’s upcoming bull-riding event.
And then it was time. Giant condors were flapping their huge wings in Sunny’s stomach as she watched the first three riders. The bruised and battered Rope did better today, lasting six seconds on a mean-tempered bull named Jalepeno, before being thrown off. As he limped the long walk back to the chute, Sunny saw Clint waiting for the young cowboy.
He slapped Rope on the shoulder, and the two men exchanged a few words, although Clint seemed to be doing most of the talking.
“The boy could do a whole lot worse than have Clint teach him,” Rooster said.
“He already showed improvement,” Dora agreed.
“That wouldn’t be difficult,” Rooster drawled. “Considerin’ he didn’t make it out of the chute yesterday.”
The cowboy that followed Rope was thrown as well. The clowns distracted the animal long enough for the hapless cowboy to make his way to safety, but Sunny covered her face with her hands as the bull charged toward the barrel the clown had dived into.
It was Clint’s turn. Sunny’s fingernails dug deep crescents into her palms as she watched Terminator ramming his horns against the gate of the chute before Clint had even climbed on his back.
And then he was on. The cowboys on the arena side of the gate scrambled as the door opened and the white-faced bull burst from the chute like an explosion of TNT, and began bucking, spinning and whirling so fast bull and rider were almost a blur.
“Hot damn!” Rooster shouted, jumping to his feet. All around Sunny spectators were doing the same. Frustrated by her inability to see, she climbed up on the bleachers in front of her and stared in disbelief.
Clint was lying almost flat on the back of the furiously bucking two-thousand-pound bovine, his left arm in the air, spurs forward, just as he had yesterday.
He lost his hat. Sunny watched as it went sailing into the dust. But still he refused to surrender to Terminator, holding on as only a champion could.
And then everything seemed to happen at once. The buzzer rang, signaling a successful ride, the crowd roared, and Clint went flying. He hit the ground, hard. Sunny cried out, although she knew hard landings were par for the course in the rodeo business.
What she saw next sent her heart into her throat.
Terminator had lowered his enormous head and was charging straight at Clint.
One of the clowns, who’d picked up Clint’s hat, threw it in front of the bull to distract him. Without missing a beat, Terminator tossed the hat out of his way with a vicious horn. Another clown ran toward the animal holding out a stuffed dummy, but the bull was undeterred. When Clint, who was lying on the ground looking dazed, saw the bull headed his way, he tried to push himself up, but it was too late.
“No!” Sunny’s scream rang out over the distressed cries of the crowd as Terminator zeroed in on Clint’s back.
At the last moment, for no apparent reason, Terminator turned and gored the straw-stuffed cowboy instead, with such force it was ripped off the cable. Clint half ran, half crawled back to the chute where Rope and other waiting cowboys pulled him out of harm’s way.
“Lordie!” Dora pressed a hand against her heart. “I think I died about a thousand deaths.”
“You’re not the only one,” Rooster said. “Good thing my hair’s already gray because it sure as hell would’ve gone white after that.”
Dora watched as Clint was led to the waiting ambulance. “Guess we’d better get over to the hospital.” She glanced over at Sunny, whose heart had still not returned to anything resembling a normal beat. “You coming?”
She shouldn’t. But, loving Clint as she did, Sunny couldn’t stay away. “Of course,” she said simply.
14
CLINT WAS LYING in bed, his arm in a cast and sling, looking unnaturally ashen when Sunny knocked tentatively and peeked around the door.
“Am I allowed in?”
For a fleeting instant, as he looked over at her, Clint’s eyes were dark and unguarded. Then, as she watched, he pulled the familiar shades down. “I can’t imagine keeping you out.”
His expression, and his voice were anything but encouraging, but Sunny had never been fainthearted. “You certainly gave us all a scare.”
He continued to stare at her and said nothing.
“I’ve never seen anything that was so terrifying and thrilling at the same time. Why, even Rooster, who’s definitely ridden in his share of rodeos, said—”
“What are you doing here, Sunny?”
He was very still. Impossibly still. How could he possibly remain so calm after the way they’d parted this morning? She felt as if someone had put a live wire beneath her skin.
She started to speak but the words wouldn’t come.
Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I was worried about you.”
“I see.” His eyes still on hers, he clenched his good hand into a fist on top of the sheet. “So, I guess all I have to do is break my head whenever I want your attention?”
Since the doctor had already assured her it was a mild concussion, Sunny was able to concentrate on his resentment rather than the worry she’d suffered during the short drive to the hospital in Rooster’s truck.
“I suppose I deserved that.”
When he didn’t answer, she decided on this, at least, they were in full agreement.
“I’m sorry about your arm.”
He shrugged, then wished he hadn’t. “It won’t be the first one I’ve broken.” He flexed his hand, then fisted it again. “It won’t be the last.”
“I suppose not if you keep rodeoing.”
“Actually, I decided this might be a good time to go into retirement.”
Relief flooded over her. “I’d glad. Not that you’re not wonderful, of course. By the way, did you know that you’d won the bull riding?”
“Yeah. The emergency room clerk took the phone call.”
“Congratulations. You must be very proud, and of course the money should help cover ranch expenses until—”
“You lied, didn’t you?”
“About what?” Did he know that she’d been lying when she’d suggested that last night had only been about sex? Did he suspect how deeply she loved him?
Watching the guilt move across her lovely face, Clint wanted to hit something. On the ride over in the ambulance, and later, as he’d been examined and treated in the ER, he’d run every second of the Terminator ride through his mind and realized that although Sunny may not have been entirely open about everything, there was no longer any question about who she was. Or, more important, what she was.
“About losing your powers.”
“Oh, that.” She managed a smile when she realized he’d finally accepted that she was, indeed, his fairy godmother. “No, I wasn’t lying about that.”
“Then how…” He watched her bite her bottom lip, and was struck with a powerful urge to soothe the worried flesh with his tongue. Furious at the power she had over him, Clint forced his mind back to what he needed to know.
“I rode my first bull when I was twelve. I know the damn animals, Sunny. As well as anyone can know them. I saw his eyes. He had killing on his mind. And nothing was going to stop him. Not me, not those clowns, not a damn thing…except magic.”
“Except magic,” she agreed in a whisper.
He shook his head, ignoring the concussion-caused lightning bolts behind his eyes. “I don’t suppose you’d care to explain how you pulled that off, without your powers.”
“I had three wishes.”
“Someone who should know about such things once told me that genies were the ones with three wishes.”
“Well, that’s true. But Andromeda felt guilty because I’d lost my powers when I wished I was mortal—”
“Who’s Andromeda?”
“Oh. My superior. She’s in charge of Fairy Godmother Central’s romance branch.”
“I see.” He didn’t. Not exactly, but decided that part didn’t matter.
Clint told himself that any sane man would consider this conversation merely a result of having his head cracked by falling off a bucking Brahman bull. But as impossible as it sounded, he knew otherwise.
“Anyway, she gave me three wishes, just in case. The first one I used to get you to agree to come here.”
So that’s what had happened. “I’ve been wondering about that,” he admitted.
“I know it wasn’t exactly a nice thing to do, playing with your mind like that. But you were being horribly stubborn-”
“That’s all right. At least your heart was in the right place. And I did make some money. Of course, I also broke my arm,” he added as an afterthought.
“I’m so sorry about that.”
“Hell, you didn’t do it.” He gave her a quick hard look. “You didn’t, did you?”
“Of course not!”
“And then you used your second wish to get Terminator to swerve at the last minute.”
“I couldn’t let you die.”
“No. That’s why you came to Whiskey River in the first place, isn’t it?” he murmured as comprehension finally sank in. “Your assignment was to keep me from killing myself.”
Sunny moistened her too dry lips. “That was how it started, yes, because I was trying to win a promotion, and you were the most difficult case Andromeda and the council could find, but—”
“But?” The blood was pounding in his head. Even knowing he’d been nothing but an assignment to her, he couldn’t help wanting her.
She was twisting her hands in front of her. “But things got out of hand.”
“Are you telling me you don’t always sleep with your suicidal assignments?”
His cool voice was like a thousand needles of ice stabbing into her heart. “You know better than that.”
The hurt in her eyes filled him with self-disgust. Of course he knew better. Wasn’t he the one who’d taken her innocence? Which wasn’t a bad trade-off, he decided. Since somehow, when he hadn’t been looking, she’d stolen his heart.
Clint knew he should apologize, but his wounded pride wouldn’t let him.
“So,” he said with a casualness he was a very long way from feeling, “what are you going to do with the third wish?”
Sunny couldn’t speak; could barely think. She let out a long breath and prayed for composure. Pride would not let her crumble to pieces in front of him.
“I’m going to use it to go home,” she said finally.
He should have seen it coming. He wanted to get up, lock the door, drag her down onto his bed, by the hair, if necessary, and let her know that he wasn’t going to let her go anywhere. Because, dammit, she was his. She’d sworn she was and he damn well intended to hold her to her promise.
That was what he wanted to do. But couldn’t.
“Of course,” he murmured, his voice tighter and colder than she’d ever heard it. “I should have thought of that.”
Sunny couldn’t bear the thought of Clint going through life hating her when all she wanted, all she’d ever wanted, was for him to be happy.
“Clint—” She started toward the bed, needing to touch him, to hold him.
“Are you staying?”
Tears filled her eyes, her throat. “I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head.
“Then go.” He turned his head and looked out the window at the parking lot. “It was fun while it lasted, Sunny. Enjoy your promotion. You’ve been a crackerjack fairy godmother. If you ever need a reference, have dear old Andromeda get in touch with me.”
The animosity filled the room like a dark, dank cloud. Unable to think of any way to salvage the mess she’d made, Sunny turned and fled before she made things even worse.
She was on her way out of the hospital when she saw the unmistakable pink pickup drive up. Sunny stopped and looked up at the window of Clint’s room.
There was, she realized, one more thing she could do.
“Please,” she wished, watching as Charmayne got out of the truck and began walking toward the double doors of the hospital, “please make things work out for Clint. Make him live the rest of his life with his perfect love match.”
This time, her wish did not go unanswered. “Are you sure this is what you want, Sunny?” Andromeda’s calm voice echoed in Sunny’s mind. “Even knowing that if we agree to grant this wish, you’ll be forced to stay on earth and live as a mortal woman?”
Sunny watched the automatic doors open, watched Charmayne breeze through them with an air of selfconfidence that suggested the spell had already taken effect. She looked up at the window again and wondered if Clint was looking back at her.
All she’d ever wanted was for him to be happy. And now, Sunny thought with a little hitch in her heart, he would be.
“Yes.” She whispered the answer. Then said it again, louder. “Yes.”
Her assignment completed, she allowed Dora and Rooster to take her back to the motel. She had packing to do. And a life to begin.
“JUST A MINUTE!” Sunny called out in answer to the knock at the motel room door. She opened the door expecting to find Dora, come to give her a ride to the bus station. Instead, she was stunned to find herself standing face-to-face with Clint.
“What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to welcome the Tombstone Jamboree’s reigning bull-riding champion?” he asked, entering the room uninvited.
“Why aren’t you in the hospital?”
“I checked myself out.”
“But your arm—”
“Is only broken.” He ran his free hand over her shoulder. “Damn, you’re tense, sweetheart. Maybe we ought to try to loosen you up.”
She moved back one step. “You’ve had a concussion.”
Clint took two steps toward her. “Only a minor one. I’ve had worse.” They continued their little back and forth dance around the cramped room. “If you keep running away from me, sunshine, I’m going to have to get my rope out of the truck and lasso you.”
“You don’t belong here.” He’d managed to maneuver her between the bed and the wall, effectively cutting off her escape.
“Of course I do.” He smoothed her hair, as if to reassure her, but mostly to please himself. “The question, my lovely, seductive fairy godmother is, what are you still doing here?”
“I was packing.”
He glanced over at the suitcase, open on the bed. “I see. You know, I’d never call you a liar, sweetheart, but I find it a bit difficult to believe that rodeo gear is the latest fashion craze at Fairy Godmother Central.”
Having lied enough for a lifetime—several lifetimes-Sunny decided to tell the truth now. “No. It’s not.”
“I didn’t think so.” He tilted forward, his eyes not leaving hers as he brushed his lips against her mouth. “You used up your last wish, didn’t you?”
His clever lips were plucking at hers, coaxing her into submission. Sunny lifted her hands to his shoulders but could not muster up the strength to push him away.