by Jeannie Watt
So why did she think that he didn’t have faith in her?
It wasn’t a lack of faith. That wasn’t why they, meaning he and Len, hadn’t let her pal along with them. It’d been sheer protectiveness.
That and the fact that she’d driven them crazy when she’d been younger, and the perception of the bothersome tagalong sister persisted.
Huh.
He fought the urge to open his eyes and study her, to see how she’d changed. Because she had. He’d noticed in the bar that she’d grown into her mouth and, what had once been almost comically oversize in her delicate face, was now perfect—nicely shaped, wide, but not too wide. Full. Kissable.
Kissable?
He shifted in his seat, hoped Em thought it was so that he could get more comfortable. Was kissable a word to use in regards to his best friend’s sister?
He cracked open an eyelid and thanked heaven that Em was concentrating on the road, as she was supposed to be. Her chin was slightly lifted, her eyes focused straight ahead, giving him an excellent view of her profile, lips and all. Even as he tried to tell himself that a mouth was a mouth and Em’s mouth was no more kissable than any other woman’s, his body stirred.
Oh, man.
This is Em. Len’s sister. Remember that.
So much for sleeping. Jess let out a breath and pushed up into a sitting position.
“Can’t sleep?” Em asked, not looking at him.
“Too much adrenaline.”
“Huh. I used to totally crash when I was done with a barrel run.”
And he usually crashed after a bull ride, if he didn’t have to drive several hundred miles to the next rodeo. Adrenaline had never been a problem before—and it wasn’t the problem now.
What business did he have thinking salacious thoughts about Em?
Get a grip. You didn’t go anywhere near salacious. You just finally noticed that she was a woman, not a kid.
And again he was lying to himself. He’d noticed a long time ago that she was a woman.
She was, however, off-limits. She’d always been off-limits and he’d never allowed himself to think of her in any other way. And now she had issues to deal with and the last thing she needed was the guy she trusted, the guy she was depending on to help her straighten out her life, throwing yet another monkey wrench into the mix.
Jess opened the burger bag. “You didn’t eat.”
“Not really hungry.”
“Yet you bought yourself a burger.”
“I’ll eat it later.”
“When it’s cold?”
“Look who’s talking. That thing you’re about to bite into isn’t exactly steaming.”
“I don’t mind cold burgers. I eat them a lot on the job. I’d buy burgers at night before I headed back to the motel, and pack them for my lunch the next day.”
Em wrinkled her nose, but again did not look at him. He found himself wanting her to look at him—just a quick look so that he could assure himself that he was back in control. That he didn’t really feel anything but brotherly affection for her. It was Em, for Pete’s sake.
“What exactly do you do? I know it has to do with construction, but...what is your job?”
“I travel around the state—well, a lot of states, really—putting up steel-framed buildings.”
“You put them up?”
“I oversee the crew.” And if bull riding didn’t work out, he’d try to get his job back.
“Ah. So you were the boss. You should have been good at that.”
“Why?”
“Think about it, Jess. You’re always trying to boss me around.”
Jess smiled a little and felt himself relax as he took another bite of the cold hamburger. As long as Em kept talking, he had nothing to worry about.
* * *
EMMA HAD TERRIFIC peripheral vision, and she’d watched Jess watch her when he was supposedly trying to go to sleep. More than watching, he’d been studying her. Like the classic bug under a microscope.
What gave there? Especially after he’d said he didn’t want her watching him?
He seemed normal enough now, as he ate cold fries and a cold burger and gave her driving advice, which she really didn’t need, but pretended she did, to keep the peace. She had the strong feeling that he was actively looking for things to advise her on—things that she could probably figure out herself, such as the pothole big enough to swallow the truck. Yes, Jess, I was totally going to drive into that thing and break an axle.
Things felt a little...off.
Great. Here she was trying to get her life back on track and now she had something else to figure out. Although she hadn’t thought about Selma’s MPFEL—Master Plan for Emma’s Life—since she’d started driving. And the stress that seized her up whenever she did think about it wasn’t quite as bone crushing as before. Must be the many miles between them.
As to Darion, well, she didn’t mind thinking about him, because they’d been in deep mutual agreement the last time they’d spoken. Bullet dodged. End of story.
In some ways, she felt closer to Darion now, after they’d done the hard thing and faced up to the fact that their relationship was pleasant, but not much else. Going through life with a friend wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world—unless one wanted some excitement in their life. Emma had missed excitement, and trying not to involve herself in things that bothered Darion hadn’t been easy for a girl that tended to shoot from the hip. He’d always been a good sport, but...yeah.
“Watch—”
“I see it!” Like she could miss the truck parked on the shoulder of the road with orange cones leading up to it. She eased into the passing lane as soon as the car behind her whizzed past, giving the truck a wide berth.
“Just making sure.”
“No. You’re micromanaging and I’ve had enough of that for a while. Okay?” She frowned at him. “And don’t complain about me looking at you when you’ve been doing the same to me.”
Amazingly, color started to creep up out of his collar.
Em jerked her gaze back to the road. What the heck?
“The way you were studying me made me wonder if you were plotting revenge for telling Benny we’re married.” So not true. The way he was studying her made her think that he was trying to figure out something about her. Like maybe why he’d brought her along.
Even if they were still working out the kinks of their road trip, she was not ready to go home and face Selma. And she didn’t feel an iota of shame about that. Nothing wrong with hiding out until you were strong enough to deal.
“I’m not a revenge kind of guy.”
“Ah. I see.” She pretended to have profound interest in his revelation—which wasn’t exactly news to her. “I’m not too deeply into revenge. But I can’t say I don’t enjoy a good comeuppance.”
“What about Dean Montego?”
Emma shrugged. “Comeuppance.” She gave him a bland look. “You know what he did to me.” Put two live chickens in her car while it was parked at school. It had taken her hours to get rid of all the chicken “residue.”
“Totally uncalled for,” he agreed. “But you know he was only trying to get your attention.”
Emma ignored his last remark.
“If I’d been the revenge sort, I would have reported him to Animal Control.” But she’d chosen another tactic. For weeks following the chicken incident, Dean encountered...eggs. Lots and lots of eggs. Eggs in his PE clothes. In his truck. In his locker. She’d even finagled his younger brother into hiding eggs around his bedroom. Finally he’d asked her to stop. So she did.
She drew a breath in through her nose. Dean had never bothered her again. In fact, he’d developed a grudging respect, and when they’d worked together on community activities, he’d been almost friendly.
“Guess Dean didn’t know what he was getting into when he engaged you.”
“You don’t mess with a Sullivan,” Emma said on a sniff.
Selma might have been controlling, but she certainly hadn’t coddled her kids. The Sullivans had backbone...although her half brothers could have shown a little more where their mother was concerned, but they were still young.
He smiled at her. “Maybe that’s why I’m not plotting revenge?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He wasn’t one bit afraid of her.
“You should eat something.”
“Fine. Peel me a cold burger.”
He laughed and Emma felt an odd pang. She hadn’t heard him laugh like that since Len had died. Not that she’d seen him all that often, but when she had, he’d been super serious. Part of it might have been grief. The other part...she didn’t know. Jess had always been responsible, but at some point he’d become almost too responsible.
Some people said it was because with wild man Tyler as his twin brother, he looked somber by comparison, but that wasn’t it. Jess was in no way somber—or at least he hadn’t been when Len was alive.
He peeled back the wrapper of the burger and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed and she found the contact oddly comforting.
“You sure you trust me to drive with one hand?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Yes. I trust you to drive with one hand.” The words came out flatly. She’d just bitten into her burger when he added, “You know I haven’t ridden with you since Len taught you to drive.”
Her chewing slowed and then she swallowed. That was an excellent point. “Okay... I’ll give you a pass. However, you do realize that was eleven years ago, right? I’ve driven a few times since then. I have zero moving violations. I pay lower insurance rates because of my safe driving record. I—”
“All right.” Jess lifted his hands in surrender. “I give up.”
“Thank you. Now how far do you want me to safely drive you tonight?”
* * *
THEY DROVE FOR five hours before pulling into a public rest area that allowed overnight vehicle stays. Jess had fallen asleep after their last stop for gas and woke with a start.
“We haven’t wrecked,” Emma said drily. “We’re at Four Trees.”
“I knew that.”
“Uh-huh.”
Jess let himself out of the truck and stretched out the kinks. He could feel the day’s ride, but all in all he felt good. Now, if he could continue feeling good, it would go a long way toward making the finals.
Em got out of the truck and pocketed the keys. “I’m going to hit the facilities, then turn in.”
“I’ll walk you over.”
“Thanks.” The lot was well lit and there were three other camp trailers there, but one never knew. Emma opened the door of the women’s room, looked in, then gave Jess a thumbs-up. He leaned against the brick wall and waited. When she came out, she gave a small shrug. “There’s a shower in there.”
“You can use the one in the camp trailer when we get to Brisby tomorrow.”
She smiled at him. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She looked toward the truck, then back at him. “I can, uh, make it back on my own, unless you want me to stay here to watch your back.”
“I think I’ll be okay. But if you hear a scuffle...” He grinned at her and she smiled back, then headed across the parking lot to the truck as he ducked into the men’s. When he got back, she’d already retrieved her sleeping bag from the camper and was rolling it out on the back seat. All the gear he’d stashed there was now sitting on the front seats.
“We’ll take off around six tomorrow,” he said.
“That late?”
“Yeah. That late. We’ll get there by noon. I ride around four.”
“Got it.” She jerked her head toward the truck. “I’m turning in.”
He nodded and started for the camper, feeling shifty about Em sleeping in the truck while he slept in relative comfort.
A deal’s a deal. She said she didn’t mind sleeping in the truck. It was the only place she could sleep, short of sharing the bunk with him or converting the bench into the second bed. And then they’d be sharing a very small space. A space without a lot of privacy.
It was best if they continued with the deal they’d agreed upon.
He only hoped that she didn’t lose the only set of truck keys he had.
Chapter Six
Brisby, Montana, was a sleepy town under normal circumstances. The big Fourth of July celebration wasn’t normal circumstances. Even though it was July 2, the town was practically bursting at the seams. The rodeo ran Friday, Saturday and Sunday, as did the rodeos in Red Lodge and Livingston.
Jess had drawn decent bulls in all three, so the master plan was to ride in Brisby on Friday, drive the four hours to Red Lodge on Saturday, and then two hours to Livingston on Sunday. After that they had a whopping two days off before they headed north to the Coyote Creek Roundup.
After parking the camper, Em took off to explore the town, leaving Jess to prepare for his ride. She promised to be back to watch, but when the grand entry began, he’d yet to see her. Not that it mattered. She was probably up in the crowded stands.
As the rodeo progressed, Jess scanned the crowds until finally he saw her, sitting near the top, aviator sunglasses perched on her nose, her reddish hair looking even redder against her green shirt.
And even though it shouldn’t have mattered, he felt better after spotting her. Because he wanted her to watch him ride? Or because he knew where she was?
Either way, she was there. He was the last guy up, which he didn’t mind one bit, since he knew exactly what score he was aiming at. The win or loss would be a done deal when they announced his score.
The stock was exceptional at the small rodeo, and only two guys had ridden successfully when Jess climbed on board Paw Paw. Eight seconds later, after what felt like eight minutes of body-pounding bucking, spinning, twisting and rearing, he dismounted, landed on his feet and punched the air. Two successful rides.
When the winners were announced, he was on top. By two points.
He’d won the day. On Sunday, he’d have word if he’d won the event, since there were no finals at Brisby. Winning the day was good enough, because he had a feeling that he was going to win the whole thing. He checked out the stands, but the place where Em had sat was now empty. Fine. He’d catch up with her at the truck and decide what they’d do that evening, since they weren’t pulling out until the next morning.
“Jess!”
He turned to see Chase, who’d once again pulled the bull rope for him as he prepped for his ride, and Dermott Kane, a bull rider from the Dillon area, approaching.
“Looked good,” Chase said.
“Felt good,” Jess replied. “You guys up tomorrow?”
“He is,” Dermott said. “I had surgery on my elbow. Have to sit out a couple more.” He jerked his chin toward town. “We’re going out tonight, us and a few others. Some barrel racers are coming, too.” His eyebrows went up as he mentioned the women. “Meeting at the Short Branch on Main in about an hour. Want to join us?”
“Sure. I’ll check with Em to see if she wants to go.”
“Em?” The guys exchanged a look that told Jess that while they may not have heard the marriage rumor, they were curious as to who Em was.
“Emma Sullivan. She’s my driver.” That’s all. Nothing more.
“Oh, yeah,” Chase said. “Red hair. Chased cans. Haven’t seen her in a while.”
“She stopped barrel racing when her brother died.”
“Yeah. That sucked.”
No argument there. Jess told Chase and Dermott that he’d see them in an hour or two, then made his way back to the truck, nodding his t
hanks when people congratulated him on taking the day. Em was sitting in the front seat of the truck, knitting. The door was open and her phone was playing music.
“Congrats,” she said as he approached.
“Did you see the ride?”
“You beat LeClair by two points.”
“Should have been three,” Jess said straight-faced. “My bull bucked harder.”
“You think?” She shaded her eyes at him.
He shifted his weight as her meaning sunk in. “Are you saying that LeClair should have won?”
She considered for a moment, her needles once again clacking away. “All in all, he might have had the better ride.”
“No.”
She gave him a mild look. “You asked. I answered. In my opinion, you should have won Union City and he should have won today.”
Jess let out a breath. “Whatever.”
“It was still a great ride.”
“Thanks.” He sucked in a breath. “I’m heading out with Chase and Dermott tonight. The Short Branch. Want to come? Warm hamburgers. Cold drinks?”
She shook her head. “I think I’ll stay here. Eat at the concession. Have an early night.”
“You’re sure?”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Totally.”
He gave her a frowning look, but she was once again focused on her knitting, counting stitches under her breath. Okay, then.
He started toward the camper feeling ridiculously deflated. She was off base about his score. He’d dominated today...and besides, hers was only one opinion. Only the judges’ opinion mattered. And they’d agreed that he’d won. By two points.
* * *
EM FINISHED THE row and then set her knitting aside to watch the people as they milled around the grounds. Even though the rodeo was over, there was still a crowd because of the carnival and the outdoor craft and gear show. She’d gone through all the booths before the event, and had bought yarn and needles at a lovely booth that featured knitting supplies, quilting material, soaps and candles. The purchase had set her back, but she figured that by skipping a few meals, she’d be okay, and it was wonderful to have something to do with her hands during her downtime. Knitting had always calmed her, but she hadn’t picked up needles in a long time, having been more focused on escaping Selma than in calming herself. Now, she had midnight blue yarn and a lot of it. Enough to keep her busy knitting scarfs and hats for Christmas presents over the next several weeks. Fortunately, everyone in her family looked good in blue.