by Jeannie Watt
They passed a sign indicating that Livingston was only sixteen miles away. After five days and three rodeos, Emma knew the drill. They would arrive at the venue, Jess would head for the rodeo office while she walked off the kinks from the drive. She’d check out the vendor shows and Jess would keep to himself as he eased into competition mode. Jess was a mellow guy—or at least he seemed mellow compared to Tyler—but he was a fierce competitor...which explained why it ticked him off when she’d told him that LeClair should have won two rodeos ago.
After seeing the sights, Emma would read or knit until the rodeo started, then pay her admission and find a seat up high. Some people liked to be close to the action—she liked the nosebleed seats. She was more of a big-picture kind of person, while Jess focused on details. Which was why they drove each other crazy.
Emma waited until they were parked at the rodeo grounds and out of the truck before saying, “If I don’t see you before your event, good luck.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Big plans?”
“I’m going to keep myself entertained.” As in she would find a quiet place, where she wasn’t distracted by his presence, and text her brother. Find out what the deal was with Selma, whom Wylie said was acting strange—well, stranger than usual. He was concerned. And she wondered if this was a ruse to get her back home. If they needed her back home for a legitimate reason, she would go. If Selma just needed to continue on her path of total domination, then she was staying right where she was. With Jess. At least the problem with Jess was manageable, since they were on the same page. It wasn’t exactly comfortable riding with him after knowing what his mouth felt like on hers, but she could deal. She’d be careful about how she offered—or accepted—condolences and comfort.
* * *
JESS DIDN’T SEE Em again before the rodeo started, which was better for his concentration. How could he not be distracted? He now knew what Em’s lips felt like, tasted like, and he could still vividly recall the soft intake of breath as his mouth had settled on hers. She’d been startled, but she’d kissed him back.
And now she was totally withdrawn. There’d been no arguing or banter on the two-hour drive between Red Lodge and Livingston. Only silence, broken on occasion by a comment on passing scenery—just enough talk to allow them to pretend that it was business as usual. But it wasn’t. They were both working through what had happened and, Jess hoped, coming to the same conclusion. The kiss might have been inevitable, but it was done and not to be repeated. Eventually they would fall back into their old roles.
Right around the time pigs flew.
Because he wasn’t thinking of her as Len’s little sister anymore. Good or bad, things had changed between them. Len would have beat the crap out of him if he’d known the direction Jess’s thoughts were taking during the occasional weak moment.
“Hey, Doublemint.” A hand clapped him on the back, but Jess didn’t need to turn to know that it was Wes Fremont.
“Wes. How’s it going?” Obnoxious Wes was back after having been put out of action the first rodeo of the season.
“Ready to ride.” He smirked. “Still trying to catch up with your brother?”
“Still as unpleasant as ever?” Jess asked mildly.
Wes laughed. “I gotta be me.” He tipped his hat back as he looked out over the stands as if searching for someone. “I heard that Emma Sullivan is traveling with you.”
“How do you know Em?”
Wes snorted. “She was, like, the hottest thing going when she chased those cans.”
“Really?” Jess’s tone sounded deadly, even to his own ears, but he wasn’t having a jerk like Wes sniffing around Em. Not when she was still piecing things back together anyway.
Wes instantly lifted his hands. “Hey, I thought you were only traveling together. That’s what Lara told me.”
“Lara’s right,” Jess said abruptly. The tractor that had been leveling the arena in preparation for the barrel racing shifted gears as it roared through the gate. Jess gave Wes a pointed look. “You’re up first, right?”
Wes smirked again, taking the hint. “I am. Wish me luck?”
“Nothing but.”
After Wes moved on, Jess scanned the packed bleachers for Em, but it didn’t take long for him to give it up as hopeless. He turned back toward the alley where Wes was now in deep conversation with another bull rider. He needed to put Em out of his head. Concentrate on the reason he was there.
Which seemed to be becoming more difficult with each passing day.
* * *
HE WAS UP third on the roster and was prepping his bull rope when the last barrel time was announced. The animal he’d drawn, Boston B., was unknown to him—a new bull to the contractor and he was the animal’s first official ride.
The bull was unusually quiet in the chute, but Jess had had many bulls that faked a calm disposition before letting all hell fly once the gate opened. As it turned out, Boston wasn’t faking. Not on that night anyway. When the gate opened he gave a halfhearted rear out into the arena and then began a few lazy spins. To change things up, and to make certain that Jess didn’t get a re-ride due to the bull’s sorry performance, he ended with a spin in the opposite direction and a couple of decent high bucks. Stuff that practice bulls did for beginning riders.
Jess dismounted, landed on his feet, nodded his appreciation to the crowd, then marched to the gate, his jaw muscles clenched tight.
His fault yesterday. The bull’s fault today. He wouldn’t be in the money unless everyone else got bucked off, and that didn’t happen. When the event ended, it was bull riders six, bulls four. He was one of the six who’d stayed on, but his score was at the bottom. Thank you, Boston.
He headed back to the truck as soon as the event was over, fighting frustration. He was about to smack his hat on his leg when a voice sounded from behind him.
“Sorry about your ride.”
He turned to see Lara bearing down on him. “It happens.”
“Yeah. I know, but it’s still rough.” She caught up with him and gave him a rueful smile. “Same thing happened to me tonight. Donovan wasn’t on and I got fifth. Won’t even pay my gas.”
He nodded, feeling a little cold as he did so, but frankly, all he wanted was to be alone, and if he commiserated...well...he wouldn’t be. They were almost to the truck when Lara said, “A few of us are going out tonight, if you’d like to join us.” He started to shake his head and she added, “Emma can come along, too...if you want.”
He stopped walking. “We have a long drive tomorrow.” And he rather doubted he would see Em, who was going to watch the crowning of the queen and the fireworks from the stands. He planned to have an early night and go over a few things—like tapes of the bull he’d pulled at the Coyote Creek Roundup in two days.
“Suit yourself,” Lara said lightly before reaching out to lightly pat his vest. She remained focused on the center of his chest for a moment, then gave him an appraising look. And that was when he realized that as far as she was concerned, things were not done between them.
Excellent.
He forced a smile. “Have a good night, Lara.” He turned and headed for the back of the truck. By the time he got the door unlocked, she was on her way back toward the stands, where she was probably meeting up with friends.
Once inside the camper, he shucked out of his vest and chaps, jeans and shirt, and put on sweatpants and a T-shirt. There were shouts and whoops going on outside and in the distance he heard the first pops of fireworks, but he didn’t care. He was done for the day. His big season wasn’t panning out so well. Bull riding was a big-picture sport, but two bad rides in a row left him feeling edgy.
Next ride would be better. He’d just pulled up the videos of Scavenger, his next draw, when there was a light tap on the door.
“It’s open,” he called from th
e bunk.
The door swung open and Em stuck her head inside. “Come and watch the fireworks,” she said.
“I’m not exactly dressed for it.”
“Yeah. Like people are going to be offended by sweatpants.”
He scowled at her, then swung his legs out of the bunk. “I was watching a video.”
“I’ll drive tomorrow. You can burn up data then.”
“Is there a reason you’re so hell-bent on me watching fireworks?”
“Yeah,” she said simply. “Maybe I want us to do things together like friends instead of dealing with this full-time awkwardness.”
Oh, man. His expression softened. “You can’t force some things, Em. They are what they are.”
She stared at him for a moment. “Maybe you could expand that answer.”
He studied her face, knew exactly what she wanted him to tell her. And it wouldn’t be true. Things were no longer the way they once were between them. “Do you really want me to?”
Color washed over her cheeks. “Maybe not. But I don’t want to feel uncomfortable for the rest of this trip.”
“You can go home anytime you want.”
“Do you want me to go home?”
“I’d like to be able to concentrate.”
Her chin came up. “Are you saying that I’m keeping you from concentrating?” Her expression shifted. “Wait a minute...are you blaming me for your bad rides?”
“That would be handy,” he said patiently, “but no. That’s on me.”
“But I disrupt your concentration.”
“I think about you.” The honest truth. “And to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be able to put you back into the little sister niche.”
“How about the friend niche?” she asked in a low voice.
“I can try.”
“Try?”
He got up off the bunk and Emma stepped back onto the ground from where she’d been perched on the fold-down steps, allowing him a path out of the camper. A couple of cowboys drifted by as Jess stepped out onto the grass. He nodded at them and one of them raised a hand in acknowledgment. When he looked back at Emma, her mouth was tight, her posture stiff. Behind her an explosion of pink and blue lit the sky. She didn’t so much as flinch.
“I’m not trying to make your life more difficult,” he said.
“You’re failing.”
“You kissed me back the other night.”
He could tell by the way her eyes went wide that she hadn’t expected him to address the true cause of their mutual discomfort. That wasn’t the way he did things, and, until now, he didn’t think it was the way that Em did things either.
“Maybe I did...and maybe I regret it.”
“No. Obviously you regret it.”
“Jess...” She made a frustrated gesture. “It was one kiss. Just...a kiss.”
Which was all it had taken for him to start to see her differently.
“Look—I’m not asking for more. I’m just explaining why things may never feel the same between us. I’ll do my thing and you’ll do yours and we can ride to these rodeos together, but the fact of the matter is that things have changed, and they’ll probably get more comfortable with time...but right now...”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Unusual for Em. She turned away as another burst of color lit the sky. Green, followed by white, followed by red. When she turned back she had her determined face on. The one that used to mean trouble for him.
“We can move past this.”
He nodded. “I don’t see that we have a lot of choice.”
“I just broke my engagement. I’m not about to mess up my life again.”
“Because we both know what a screwup I am. Irresponsible. Never having a plan.”
She took a step back, her face going pale. “What are you saying, Jess?”
He reached out and hooked a finger in her belt, easing her a few steps closer. She did not fight him, which said a lot. “Do I have to spell it out?”
“No,” she said abruptly. “Do not spell.” She stepped back so that his hand fell away. But he still felt the connection. “This is not how I saw things playing out.”
“You mean—”
“I mean,” she said, cutting him off as if being afraid of what he might articulate, “that I thought we would sit on the grass and watch the fireworks and start easing back into the way things were.” She stuck her chin out. “You’re not playing along.”
“Don’t feel like playing, Em. I feel like being honest.”
“If we...took a chance and it didn’t work out...I would lose you forever.”
“Lose me? Or your connection to Len?”
“Maybe both.” She took a step back, hugging herself in a way that made him want to take her into his arms and make things better. But he couldn’t do that.
“I don’t want to take that kind of chance.” Not yet anyway. “So don’t worry about that.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To tell you the truth, Em, I don’t know right now.”
“Well, that’s a lot of help.” She took a pace and then turned back, jumping as more fireworks went off. “So I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to pretend. I’ll live with the fact that I’m going to feel uncomfortable for a while, and you can live with me being a distraction.”
He tucked a thumb into the pocket of his sweats. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home?”
“No. I’m not running twice. I’ll see this out and then go home and deal with Selma.”
Chapter Eight
Why couldn’t Jess have simply remained her friendly nemesis?
Emma swallowed yet another sigh as she finished one row of knitting and started the next. Life would have been so much easier. She kept her eyes on her knitting, as she always did when she wasn’t driving, and Jess focused on the road, but that didn’t keep him from distracting her in a way that was beginning to wear on her patience.
All she wanted was independence, but her quest for autonomy wasn’t going well, because of the man sitting a few feet away from her, looking good, smelling great. Ignoring her.
Good. She wanted to be ignored. She wasn’t ready to go home, but she didn’t want to deal with the situation she was sliding into. Besides, Jess had hit the nail on the head when he said that she was not only afraid of losing him as a friend, but of also losing her connection to Len. Jess had known her brother in a way no one else had, and when she was near Jess, she might feel Len’s loss a little more, but she also felt as if she was closer to him. Jess was a connection. A partner in grieving. Other than her reclusive father, no one missed Len more than the two of them.
Here she was, edging back into Darion territory. He had been a rock while she grieved. But she’d mistaken closeness, safety and security for more intense feelings. As had he.
Great guy, Darion.
Not the guy for her. And because of their mistake, the friendship would never be the same. He was now chilling in Kalispell and she was hiding from her stepmom on the rodeo circuit. The last time she’d spoken to him had been shortly after their breakup, and when he’d left, she’d had no one to bounce things off. It wasn’t as if Wylie was going to be a lot of help, being a know-it-all eighteen-year-old who was afraid of his mother.
Ah, Darion. Her needles stilled. She regretted the loss, but knew in her heart that the rift would never be fully mended.
She managed a sideways look at Jess without him noticing. His gaze was on the road, but she had no doubt that his head was deep into his next ride. He had the most excellent profile. Model material. She could so envision his face staring out of a magazine ad for, well, just about anything.
She started knitting again, one corner of her mouth lifting as she thought about
how that assessment would sit with Mr. Hayward. Not well. Jess avoided the limelight, unless he happened to be on a bull. Then he was a rock star—the embodiment of grit, determination and fearlessness. She loved to watch him ride.
Maybe a little too much, and she needed to keep that in check.
“Good driving.”
Emma looked up in time to see a big red Chevy truck cut in front of them after passing on the two-lane road.
“Bronc rider,” Emma murmured.
“Probably.”
They were part of a long line of traffic heading toward Coyote Creek, now only a few short miles away. The Coyote Creek Roundup was a big deal. The quiet town normally boasted a population of around six thousand, but swelled by another third during its two-day rodeo. There was no secret about what had made the event so popular—a traveling reporter had written an article for a national magazine describing the quaintness of both the event and the venue. After that, people who wanted to experience an event that hadn’t gone totally commercial flocked to the area. The result? The event was now totally commercial. But it brought big money into a small ranching community and everyone still seemed to have a good time. And Emma intended to do the same while she was there. She was going to take back control of her life.
When they pulled off the freeway, Emma reached around to the back seat and got her purse.
“Would you drop me downtown?” Jess shot her a perplexed look. “I want to shop for a while. Check out the summer sales at the gift shops.”
“I thought you were low on funds.”
“Thus the sale part.”
Jess maneuvered the truck through the packed streets. “You want me to wait for you? We have a little time before I have to be there.”
“Thanks, but I’ll walk to the fairgrounds.” The exercise would do her good after all the time spent in the truck.