by Karen Rock
A couple of his cousins, Lance, a Denver sheriff, and Cole, a Steamboat Springs smokejumper, now vied for a spot closer to Amberley.
Oh, heck no.
His long legs, trained for pro ball, now sped him to Amberley in seconds. A fierce frown at his relatives backed them off quick. The music cut and Amberley bent at the waist, breathing hard, laughing.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, not sure if he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to her seat, where she wouldn’t be knocked down, or sweep her into his arms and hold her tight.
“I’m dancing. You?” Her smile stretched wide, loopy and infectious.
The fiddler’s bow swept over his strings, striking a single, dreamy-sounding note before the band began its version of Anne Murray’s “Could I Have This Dance.”
He caught her around the waist, his feet moving to the beat of the song. “I’m dancing with you,” he murmured in her ear. She trembled against him when he pulled her close.
Was there music playing? he wondered a moment later as he guided her over the rough floor. He’d almost forgotten. The world had shrunk into nothing, dissolved by the golden glow of candles flickering in hurricane lamps. But there were his feet, and here was his arm, and his neck, and his mouth that longed to touch hers.
His hands caressed her back, and she looked up at him. Jared saw the happiness written across her face. His heart jumped into a gallop, and his earlier worries dissolved from his thoughts.
“You look beautiful,” he said quietly, running an eye over her. “I can’t stop staring at you.”
“I wish I could see you.” Her hand rose to his jaw and slid along its length. Their bodies swayed together. “You shaved.” Her fingers sifted through the short strands at the nape of his neck. “And you cut your hair. I always like it short.”
“Good,” he said, pleased by this simple compliment more than any of the lavish praise heaped on him before.
She dropped her head to his shoulder, and his pulse throbbed as the music carried them onward. He was lost—lost in a world of which he’d dreamed about. Her body pulsed warm beneath his hand, and her fingers wrapped softly around his. He spun her across the floor, waltzing smoothly. She didn’t falter once, nor did she seem to care who or what might surround them, trusting him every step of the way. It seemed like they danced inside their own glass globe, inhabiting a world built just for two.
Could they live in this bubble forever? The skirts of her gown sparkled underneath the twinkling lights as he twirled her.
He suddenly felt the urge to kiss her—hard—upon the mouth. “Let’s go outside.” When they passed an open door, he waltzed her backward and stopped when they reached a private spot beneath the shadowed barn eaves.
Her fingers traced his lips. “You’re smiling,” she observed. “Are you happy?”
“Yes.” He pressed her hand to his drumming heart, certain she could feel it through his suit jacket and understand what he struggled to say.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice faltering, the real question spinning between them.
“I’m sure. Nothing makes a fella happier than being out with his gal.”
“Your gal, huh? That sounds serious.”
“It is.”
He watched the way her lips widened in a smile and her eyes burst with light. Then his lips descended on hers, needing to taste, to touch, to sample what he so desperately needed. Her mouth tasted like honey and her lips were smooth, and Jared lost all sense of time as she slowly kissed him back, her body melting against him.
He pulled away a moment later, peered into her eyes as they opened, and then kissed her again. It was different this time—deeper, full of need. His arms were heavy and light all at once, and the world spun round and round. He couldn’t stop. He liked this—liked kissing her, liked the smell and the taste and the feel of her. His arm slipped around her waist, and he held her tightly as his lips moved insistently against hers.
Amberley eased back and smiled. Jared leaned forward again, but she put two fingers against his lips. “We should go back inside.” He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t want to miss the cake,” she added.
“You’re sweeter.” He tugged her fingers from his mouth and tried to kiss her again, but she swung under his arm and started forward.
When her hands encountered the barn door, she stopped and peered into the raucous party. She dropped her head back to his chest when he slid his arms around her from behind. “Are you with me?”
He turned her gently in his arms and brought her face close to his. “Always,” he whispered, and she didn’t stop him as he kissed her again.
An old-school Garth Brooks tune, one of their favorites, blared.
“Then let always begin!” she pronounced, whirling, nearly yanking him off his feet as she pulled him inside.
He struggled to keep up, wondering, hoping that it truly had begun, feeling his heart grow, and grow, and grow.
* * *
“JARED! PHONE!” HOLLERED his mother through the screen door the next day. He patted his empty pockets as he mounted the porch stairs and realized he’d left his cell on the kitchen counter at breakfast.
“Thanks.” He dropped onto a stool and picked up the landline. His shoulders ached, along with every other part of him, but he’d done it, he’d beaten even his best times preinjury. No matter what happened with his career, he took pride in the effort, the drive, that’d gotten him here...all of which he owed to Amberley.
His mouth twisted in a smile just thinking of their night together. It’d been goofy fun, cutting loose, not caring how they acted and not needing to impress each other. Falling for your best friend meant being comfortable in your own skin, and he liked who he was with Amberley—his authentic self, not the town heartthrob he now gladly checked at the door. “Jared speaking.”
“Cade. Andrew Wiley here.”
Jared stiffened. His agent—returning his call at last. “Thanks, but I resolved the issue I’d called you about on my own.”
Last night he and Amberley had started their always together. He didn’t have to chase after second best when he already had a star position, front and center, in Amberley’s life. “Appreciate the call, though.”
“Hold on!” he heard the man yell before he’d returned the handset to its cradle.
“Yes?”
“Don’t know if you’ve been following the news lately...”
Jared glanced at the daily paper folded by the phone. “Not closely.”
“Ted Reiss tore his rotator cuff.”
He made a noise, something between a gasp and a groan that whipped his mother around. She slapped a dish towel over her shoulder and mouthed, “What?”
Ted Reiss. The halfback who’d taken his starting position. “So...”
“The team asked me to call. Are you in football-playing shape?”
“Yes,” he said after a long beat, dragging the word from where it burrowed in the back of his throat.
“Would you come in for a workout and physical?”
Silence. His mother advanced, eyes wide. She raised her eyebrows in question, but he shook his head, thoughts whirling too fast to grab any one and pin it down.
“Jared?” prompted his agent. “Are you interested in coming back?”
Chapter Fourteen
“LET’S WELCOME MATTIE MCLEOD!” blared the ERA Premier Tour Group’s rodeo announcer.
In an alley leading to the National Western Arena’s entry gate, Amberley struggled to settle Calamity Jane as they waited their turn to compete for a final spot in next week’s team tryouts. She pranced sideways, whinnying, pulling slightly on the bit.
“She’s looking a little hot,” Jared observed, the blurred outline of his face tipped up at Amberley.
“Tell me about it.” She gulped down a breath of sweet, hay-
scented air, striving to calm her own jittering nerves, as well. “It’s okay, girl,” she murmured to the restless ten-year-old bay. “Just two more horses to go, and then we’ll let it rip.”
Too bad they’d drawn the final spot in today’s lineup. Harley had the patience of a saint, but Calamity...well, she lived up to her name. How would she—they—do on the course? If she didn’t make the tryouts would Jared still want her as his—whatever they were... They still hadn’t defined their relationship exactly, but Jared said it was serious.
“She’s always a little amped before she competes,” a woman said with a strong Western twang. Amberley turned in the direction of the voice. Calamity Jane nickered, the sound instantly recognizable—a greeting.
“Hey, Ella,” Jared said. “Good seeing you. Hope you’re feeling well.”
“Doctor cleared me from bed rest, but still no riding. Which is why I’m awful glad Amberley’s giving Calamity these runs. She lives to compete.”
Amberley reached down and patted her mount’s soft velvet neck. “It shows. She’s been buzzing since we arrived this morning.”
“How’d your practice go?” Ella’s shape moved to Calamity’s head. “Hey, baby girl,” she clucked. The horse’s muscles relaxed against Amberley’s thighs at the sound of her owner’s voice.
“Great. We followed your suggestion and didn’t do any fast work. Focused on structure and calm instead.”
“Let the horse fly when the time counts,” Ella advised. “Especially Calamity Jane. Speed isn’t a problem for her.”
An uneasy laugh escaped Amberley. “True. She’s a little scattery, but she’s got legs. I’m just about used to her now.”
It’d taken a little while for her and Calamity to click. First off, Amberley had to change her riding style. The mare was lightning on legs and just as unpredictable. If Amberley got behind on her, she’d be in trouble. So far, though, no major mishaps.
So far...
She shook off the fear. It didn’t belong with her in the saddle.
“Used to her? She’s clocking in the low fourteens,” Jared scoffed, confident about her as always.
Ella whistled. “Should be good enough to make final tryouts. There’s two open positions on the team this year.”
“Two?”
“Yep. One’s permanent and one’s temporary until I can return to touring—after the baby.”
“Good to know.” Her fingers tensed on the reins.
She had to win one of those spots. She flicked up the drooping brim of her black Stetson and let out a breath. Just months ago, she’d thought her life over, her career dead. Now, here she sat, about to vie against ten world-class competitors. To even be among them was an honor.
But she wanted to—needed to—win.
Not just for herself, but for the Spirit Ranch kids who’d traveled three hours to cheer her on here in Denver.
“So, you’re okay taking the left barrel first?” Ella asked. “I know you and Harley usually do the right.”
“It’s Calamity’s favorite lead.” Amberley rolled one tense shoulder, then the other. “I want to make sure she’s comfortable.”
“I appreciate that.” Ella’s voice now sounded on her left side, out of the way of the blurred shape of an approaching horse.
“Fourteen fifty-two!” shouted the announcer.
“Shoot,” she heard the rider mutter after hearing her time as she passed, her mount blowing hard.
“Too bad.” Ella whistled. “What’s the time to beat to make the top five now?”
“Fourteen eighteen,” a rider atop a gray horse put in as she trotted by, heading in the opposite direction to the entry gate.
Amberley leaned down to Calamity’s twitching ears. “We’re next after this.”
“Saw they switched up the course pattern a bit,” Jared said.
Amberley’s teeth chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s angled more toward the track.”
“Usually it’s squared to the roping boxes,” Ella said. “But this time we’re trying to get the barrels in better grounds so the horses have surer footing instead of being on the track.”
“I like how they centered them off the entry gate.” Jared gently squeezed Amberley’s jittering knee. “When you run in, it’s pretty even whether you go right or left. The distance is the same. The eyes are still sixty feet off the barrel back to the alley.”
Electronic timers, called eyes, were positioned on the course to record times down to the thousandths of a second. What would her time be today? Good enough to beat fourteen eighteen? Her stomach twisted. In the distance, the announcer called out the next rider’s name, and the crowd hollered.
“It’s still a standard set. Just keep the new angle in mind,” Jared warned once the tumult lessened.
“Got it.” Her voice emerged in a squeak. She cleared her throat. “Got it,” she repeated, only a bit steadier.
A new mount, a different course, legal blindness...what could go wrong? She swallowed down the bubble of fear that rose in her throat.
She still had Jared, and he’d see her through like he promised. Her jumping heart settled. Except for a one-day business trip, he’d been her rock all week, coaching her with single-minded focus. Their evenings together turned even sweeter, ending on his or her front porch, holding hands as they rocked together on the swing, talking about every livelong thing like they always had except now there was also kissing, lots and lots and lots of delicious kissing. So much of it, in fact, she worried she’d become as addicted to Jared as any of his girls, except she was different. He’d called their relationship serious at the wedding. For keeps, she hoped.
She loved him.
Was in love with him. And she’d tell him so tonight.
“Your comeback’s incredible,” gushed Ella. “It’s a flat-out miracle. How are you handling this course with your—your—”
“Eyesight?” Amberley rushed in so Ella wouldn’t feel awkward for bringing it up. “It’s a challenge. But we practiced the pattern, so we should be fine.”
She hoped.
“She’ll be great,” Jared affirmed in that steady voice that leveled her right out.
“Thank you so much for lending us Calamity Jane.”
“You’re doing me a favor,” protested Ella, her voice warm and sincere. “I hated thinking of her cooped up in her stall.”
“Understandable,” Jared answered smoothly for Amberley, knowing, she guessed, that her mind flew to Harley and how much she missed him today. They’d competed together for the past seven years. Could she do it on her own?
She eyed the empty gate and wiped her damp palms on her thighs, thinking hard.
With most of the children here and not at the ranch, he’d have a long, lonely day. Her belly twisted. She’d spoil him rotten tomorrow and make it up to him. Sierra had cleared him for small pasture grazing, and she knew the perfect clover patch for his first venture.
“And you’re okay using the whip?” Ella asked. “You barely need to tap her—just enough so she knows it’s there.”
“No problem.” Amberley forced her fingers to unclench around the whip’s handle. She hadn’t worked with one much, but Calamity needed recognizable cues, signals a rider and horse developed over years...not days... As long as she rode in a similar style to Ella’s, she hoped for a good, safe run with Calamity.
A winning run.
Daddy, if you’re watching, I hope I make you proud.
Doubtful, yawned the devil on one shoulder, skeptical.
You’re not supposed to tell her that, protested the angel on the other.
A gray horse loped down the alley from the course, blowing hard. Silver Streak. Amberley straightened her spine and squeezed Calamity’s sides to move her forward. They were next.
“Fourteen eleven!” cried the rodeo announcer.
“Guess that’s the time to beat now,” Jared said in her ear. “You’ll take the fifth slot for the finals if you best it.”
She nodded, but the motion felt jerky, disjointed. Fourteen eighteen had sounded hard. How could she beat fourteen eleven?
“Good luck, Amberley!” Ella called as Calamity pranced forward.
“Thank you!”
Jerking her head, Calamity reared slightly. Amberley worked to settle the overexcited mare. “Steady, girl,” she soothed. Her own nerves hummed softly through her bones, just the tiniest of vibrations, but it sent goose bumps rolling all over her skin. “Steady.”
“All set, sweetheart?”
She smiled down at the blurred shape of the walkie-talkie and tried not to let Jared’s endearment throw her. “You bet.”
“Here comes our reigning WPRA World champ!” bellowed the rodeo announcer. “She’s a three-time titleholder making the comeback of a lifetime after losing her vision, folks. Some call her a riding miracle. Will she have one here today? Ladies and gents, this is the incredible Amberley James from Carbondale, Colorado.”
Amberley tapped the top of her dad’s black Stetson for good luck, lightly applied the whip, left, right, and galloped out into the arena to a deafening roar.
Adrenaline buzzed in her bloodstream, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stay focused. She pictured the children lined up in the front row with Spirit Ranch owners Benny and Joan. What must they be feeling?
She hoped she made them proud.
Kids. This one’s for you.
She bent low over Calamity’s neck and rocketed forward, riding jockey style the way the speed demon liked it. Every muscle in her body tensed. She breathed through her nose, keeping her lips clamped together.
“Five degrees left,” Jared urged, and she angled her mount at the first barrel, pinning her gaze where she imagined it to be. The raucous crowd muted in her mind. Every atom of her tuned only to Calamity Jane, herself and this unfamiliar course. One, two, three...she counted along with her mount’s thundering hooves, her strides feeling longer than during any of their practices, faster.
Would she sense the first barrel in time?