Big Sky

by Stacey Coverstone

  “Of course I do. Erin Randall has been a thorn in my side since we were kids.” She couldn’t believe she was about to agree to climb on the mechanical beast and possibly make a fool out of herself. But it would be worth it. Erin lived here, but Taylor had nothing to lose. She’d be going home soon.

  “You could really damage your arm if you fall on it again,” Brett reminded her.

  “I’ll be careful. Besides, I haven’t seen anyone get hurt yet.”

  “Yeah, but nearly everyone we’ve watched so far has been pickled and couldn’t feel a steel rod if it went through their back.”

  “There’s a lot of padding on the floor and sides,” she said unwavering.

  Apparently noting the stubborn set of her jaw and realizing there would be no changing her mind, Brett flashed a crooked grin and gave her a quick kiss. “Good luck, cowgirl. My money’s on you.”

  “It better be,” she chuckled, stroking his cheek. “I’m in,” she announced loudly to the delight of the crowd of people who began laying wagers in earnest.

  “I’ll hold the money,” Clint hollered, apparently changing his mind about participating.

  “No, you won’t. You just admitted you’re drunk. I’ll hold the money,” Brett said, collecting the greenbacks that began flying around.

  Erin pushed Taylor aside and teetered on her high heels toward the opening of the bullpen. “Let’s go, Tay. It’s just you and me. One last competition, girl.”

  Taylor drew in a deep breath for calm. “Bring it on.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Which of you is riding first?” the bull operator asked.

  “I am,” Taylor said.

  Brett’s nerves rippled beneath his skin as she stepped into the cushioned ring.

  “Take off your boots,” the operator instructed. He glanced between Taylor and Erin. “Whoever holds on the longest is the winner.” Apparently, there were no other rules.

  Brett winked and gave Taylor a thumbs-up sign as she pulled her cowboy boots off and mounted the mechanical beast with the fluidity of a seasoned pro. She set her shoulders and clenched her teeth. Securing her left hand under the strap, she raised her right arm in the air. Yips, catcalls and people shouting good luck clamored from the jacked up audience.

  If Taylor was nervous, she didn’t show it at all. Every cell in her beautiful body oozed confidence. It was obvious she was bound and determined to whip Erin’s butt.

  Aware that Clint Sheridan had sidled next him, Brett had no interest in making eye contact or conversing with the man.

  “Taylor looks sure of herself,” Clint said, running his words together. “I think my girl is too stoned to get on top of that thing, let alone hold on.”

  Not feeling the need to respond to the lying, cheating jerk that had hurt Taylor, Brett only smiled, certain Clint’s girl would lose to his. For tonight, that’s how he thought of Taylor—as his girl.

  With a curt nod to the operator, she acknowledged she was ready to ride. The man behind the control board started the bull off slow. Even though it spun gently, an animated scream burst from her. When the speed picked up, Brett’s heart pounded with the thrill of excitement. Lithe as a rolling ocean wave, Taylor’s body moved with the rocking machine as if they were one. Then when the bull started to buck, Brett glanced up at the clock ticking away the seconds. Three…four…five… “Hang in there!” he shouted along with the raucous crowd.

  Her arm moved like a flag waving in the wind as her body was jerked forward and backward.

  “Six! Seven!” The audience shouted the seconds. “Eight!” The buzzer went off and the bull made a final swing and slowed to a stop. Amidst whoops and claps, Taylor swung both legs over the side and pumped a winning fist in the air. Her bright gaze met Brett’s. She blew him a kiss and smiled a smile that weakened his knees.

  “My turn,” Erin said, pushing past Taylor and kicking off her heels.

  “Good luck,” Taylor said sarcastically. “You’re going to need it.”

  She wound her way through the crowd that was packed together like sardines to settle at Brett’s side. “That was a great ride,” he praised, pulling her into the notch of his arm where she fit nicely. “Were you scared at all?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “But it was an exhilarating experience. Never in a million years did I expect to ride a mechanical bull tonight. Or ever.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Brett saw her gaze around him and flash Clint a smug grin.

  “Looks like your competitor is having a little trouble,” Brett said, bringing Taylor’s attention to Erin, who was having a problem mounting the bull. Everyone was laughing at her inability to climb aboard the bull in her inebriated state.

  “Come on, honey,” Clint moaned. “Throw your weight into it.”

  With the operator’s assistance and lively vocal support from the chanting audience, Erin finally scrambled on top of the contraption and prepared for her ride. With her hand snug under the strap and her arm in the air, the bull operator started the machine. A long wail erupted from deep in her throat after being spun around a couple of times.

  “I…don’t…feel…so…gooooood,” she wailed.

  Only three seconds had passed on the clock when the bull whipped like a tilt-a-whirl ride and bucked Erin. The hand under the strap slipped out as her other hand cupped her mouth. But it was too late. At the same moment she was flung off the bull, a stream of vomit shot from her mouth. Obscenities were hurled every which way as people bolted away from the rail in an attempt to dodge the spray. With the grace of a pig, Erin unceremoniously landed with a thud on the padded floor sprawled out face first.

  “Oh, God,” Clint groaned, stumbling past Brett and Taylor and into the bullpen to help Erin.

  “I guess you showed her who’s Queen of the Rodeo now,” Brett said, chuckling and squeezing Taylor into a celebratory hug.

  Once the money from the bets was divvied up, Taylor pulled Brett aside. “I’ve had enough excitement for one night. What would you say about getting out of here and taking a drive?”

  He nodded, imagining the sweet possibilities that could come from a drive through the country in the moonlight with her. “Let me visit the little boy’s room and then I’ll be ready to go.”

  “I’ll wait for you by the front door.”

  When he found Taylor near the door five minutes later, a tall, thin man was walking away from her and heading toward the bar. He looked familiar but Brett didn’t know from where. A twinge of jealousy stabbed him in the gut until he realized she wasn’t even watching the guy’s retreating back, which meant she wasn’t interested.

  “Here I am,” he said, clutching her around her waist snugly and walking her outside. The night was cool and the sky was full of white stars. He took a deep breath, his lungs grateful for the clean, fresh air. “Wow. We can hear ourselves think again.”

  “Did you see that man I was talking to inside?” she asked as they strolled to the car, arms around each other’s waists.

  “The skinny guy with bug eyes? Yeah. Who was he?”

  A dumbfounded expression filled her face. “Mike Weaver.”

  He shrugged, the name meaning nothing to him.

  “Jamie’s drug dealer,” Taylor clarified.

  “You don’t say? Did he know who you were, or was he hitting on you because you’re so beautiful?”

  Although clearly distracted, his comment seemed to pull her from her reverie and she smiled at the compliment. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  His heart thrashed within his chest. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, Taylor. In case you can’t tell, I’m falling for you.” The thought had exploded in his mind, almost knocking him out of his boots, and burst from his mouth like a bullet.

  Her brown eyes widened and her mouth gaped.

  Brett felt his brows wing downward. Why did she look so surprised? Surely she’d figured out he was attracted to her. Hadn’t she sensed the way he felt? Should he have kept his big m
outh shut? He couldn’t quite tell by her reaction. Anyway, it was out there now and there was no taking it back.

  “Are you going to say something?” he asked, placing his hands on her arms and wheeling her around to press her back against the side of the car.

  “You’re…falling for me?”

  He grinned. “Are you going to repeat everything I say?”

  Taylor returned his grin and shook her head. “Sorry. It’s just that I’m shocked.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. You strike me as a lone wolf. You’re divorced and have been alone for a lot of years.” Blushing shyly, which seemed uncharacteristic, based on what he knew about her, she added, “You told me you’ve never even invited a woman to your cabin before.”

  “I haven’t.” He scratched his chin. “That’s not to say I’ve been a monk since my divorce, but I’ve never felt this way about a woman. Not even my ex-wife.”

  “What way is that?”

  His heart continued to pound with desire. In that instant, he could picture the two of them on their own ranch—the corral full of horses, a couple of children playing in the yard, a bunkhouse of men calling Brett Mr. Austin, a nice home Taylor could be proud of, and their own plump, sunny-faced woman to do the cooking and cleaning.

  “I’m crazy about you,” he said.

  Moonlight danced on her face, and he felt himself drowning in the deep brown depths of her fixed gaze. After a long moment that seemed to last a lifetime, he smoothed her hair with his hand and said, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “You’re so sweet.”

  A deep-throated laugh rumbled up from his belly. “Sweet? That’s hardly what I expected.”

  Obviously flustered, Taylor said, “What do you want me to say? We just met each other a couple of days ago. You can’t fall in love that fast.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is. I don’t believe in love at first sight.”

  “I didn’t say it was at first sight,” he countered with a smile. “But I’ll admit to having had some inappropriate thoughts about you the moment we met.”

  Her cheeks warmed to a pretty pink that shown through the moonlight. With her head dipped to her chin, she said, “You don’t know me. I don’t know you. We’ve both been burned before. Love is for the young and stupid.”

  “I’m not young or stupid. My mind tells me this is crazy for a number of reasons, but I know my heart and it says something different. I don’t expect you to love me back. Not yet. But I’d like to see where this could go. Let’s start with a real kiss.” Brett placed his finger on the smooth plateau under her chin and lifted her face. Behind her eyes smoldered a woman who had awakened an intense hunger inside him. He wrapped his hand around her neck and drew her close, sealing his mouth to hers. The supple warmth of her lips and softness of her breasts against his chest caused the fiery furnace of his loins to ignite.

  Wrapped in his arms, Taylor fit so perfectly, he knew she’d been made for him. A soft groan tore from his chest as he deepened the kiss. The taste was sweeter than nectar, and her moans of delight melted his bones.

  When their lips parted, Brett caught his reflection in her doe-like eyes. “Let’s go home now,” he said, slipping the car key from his pocket and automatically unlocking the doors. She nodded and slid into the passenger seat after he swung open the door.

  The sense of urgency to keep holding her, like she might disappear if he let go, was something he hadn’t experienced in years. He stuck the key in the ignition and screeched out of the parking lot, pointing the rental car toward the hard road that led to the Slash Y and his cabin.

  Feeling the adrenaline surging through his veins, Brett rolled through the one stoplight he came to and headed out of town, exiting onto the hard road. With Taylor by his side and soon to be in his bed, he felt invincible and a little reckless. As he approached the steep grade a mile outside of Prosperity, his foot pressed down on the accelerator and the car sped up. Midway down the other side, the hairpin turn ahead came into view. He put his foot on the brake and…nothing.

  They were careening at over fifty miles per hour toward the turn and the guardrail—a broken length of metal that was the only thing between them and a ten-foot dive into a shallow ditch—when he realized the brakes had failed.

  With him pumping the brakes furiously to rebuild enough pressure in the braking system to stop, Taylor screamed, “What’s wrong? No brakes?”

  His mind was frantically working, trying to remember what other steps to take in this kind of situation. Shifting into a lower gear barely reduced the speed of the vehicle. Turning the wheel sharply from side-to-side should have created friction and slowed the car, but Brett was afraid of flipping over if he jerked too hard.

  There was no terrain ahead that he could use to their advantage—no other incline or a grassy shoulder.

  He yelled, “Hold tight!” and steadily pulled up the emergency brake with his right hand. With his left hand gripping the vibrating steering wheel, the whole car jolted as the tires locked. He released a small bit of pressure from the brake and the tires squealed and the speed of the car began to reduce.

  Luckily, there were no other vehicles on the road for him to worry about. Only Taylor. A quick glance her way assured him she was preparing for impact, but with the guardrail looming ahead and to the right of them, he feared she’d suffer the brunt of it. What had probably in reality taken seconds for the sequence of events to transpire seemed like an eternity as he struggled with the decision to purposefully sideswipe the guardrail.

  He cranked the wheel knowing he had no other alternative. The crash jolted their bodies. The shrieking sound of metal upon metal pierced his ears as the car skidded along the guardrail and finally came to a deafening stop.

  “Are you all right, Taylor? Are you hurt?” With his heart beating out of his chest, Brett unbuckled his seat belt and scooted next to her and gently unhooked her belt from around her waist. Barely breathing and staring into the windshield with a wide glare, he wondered if she was in shock. He touched her face and turned her toward him. A ragged breath of air escaped from her trembling lips. “Are you hurt?” he repeated.

  She gulped. “I don’t think so.” Relief flooded her eyes and he let out the breath he’d been holding. “We’re alive,” she whispered.

  “Yes, darlin’. We’re alive and okay.” He searched her head and body for blood or scrapes and saw none.

  Tears pushed from behind her brown pools. “You saved our lives.”

  He reached for lightheartedness and chuckled, “I’m afraid I can’t say the same about this rental car of yours. It’s probably scratched to hell and dented up pretty bad.”

  “It’s been a lemon from the start,” she said, also trying to find humor in the frightening situation. “What do you think happened with the brakes?”

  “Don’t know. Let’s get out and I’ll take a look at the damage. We may have to call a tow truck.” Since the car was butted up against the guardrail, there was no way for Taylor to exit the passenger side. “You can squeeze out over here,” he said pushing open the driver’s door and maneuvering his long legs out. When he grasped her hands and gently pulled her from the car, an odd expression crossed her face.

  “What’s wrong? Do you feel sick?” he asked, wondering if she was injured and was only feeling the effects of the crash now.

  “No. I just had a funny feeling and a strange thought.”

  “What kind of thought?”

  “Brett, do you believe this was an accident? Do you think the car is a lemon? Or could someone have tampered with the brakes?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “The brake line has been cut,” Rick Tavares announced grimly.

  The blood froze in Taylor’s veins. She and Brett stared at each other.

  Once she’d posed the question about brake tampering to him and he’d inspected the damage to the car, Brett had used his cell phone to call the sheriff’s office. Tavares had arr
ived quickly with a tow truck and an auto mechanic. The car was now hooked to the tow truck with its front end hoisted into the air and the mechanic underneath.

  Taylor met Tavares’s professional but poignant gaze. “Obviously, that means someone did it on purpose,” she said, trying to keep her voice even but feeling her stomach flip-flopping.

  “It would appear that’s the case.”

  The mechanic slid out from under the car and hollered, “The hard line to the emergency brake is not cut, Sheriff.”

  “What’s that mean?” Taylor asked.

  Brett answered. “It means whoever did this wants to send you a message.”

  “But the perp didn’t intend on killing you,” Rick finished. His cell phone rang. “Tavares. Speak to me. Uh-huh. Okay. I’ll get back to you.” He clicked off his phone. “That was my guy at Maverick’s. He confirms there’s brake fluid on the ground in the space where you said the car was parked.”

  “Meaning the brakes were cut by someone in the bar,” Brett said.

  “Or someone who may have followed the two of you there, or seen where you parked once you arrived.”

  “That could be any number of people, including the bouncer at the door.” Brett scrubbed a hand over his chin. “Rick, there’s another thing you need to know. Today, something happened to Taylor that could be related to this incident.” She shot him a warning look, hoping he wasn’t going to incriminate her old friend, Charlie.

  Rick’s brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

  Taylor’s gaze bounced between the two men like a ping-pong ball as they conversed. Brett explained the horse accident and mentioned finding the bag on the trail.

  “Where’s the bag now?” Rick asked.

  “I have it back at my cabin.”

  “I’ll want to see that and run it for fingerprints. There could be a connection.”

  Brett nodded and Rick returned his attention to Taylor.

  “Was there anyone in the bar tonight who might have a grudge against you? Someone you think has a reason to want to hurt you?” His pen was poised over his small notepad ready to scratch down names and information.