He leaned back and looked up at the sky. It felt good to be back in Colorado; even if it was damn cold, the welcome was warm.
Lyric, and everyone else, had assured him, before he left Oklahoma, that the Flying R partners would help him and his baby get settled, but he’d been skeptical. It was one thing for the partners to work their schedules around their wives and children; they were mostly family. It was another for them to extend the same courtesy to him. He wasn’t a partner; he was a hand, and he hated relying on other people to make his life work. He needed to figure out how to do this on his own before they got tired of making exceptions and fired him.
He wished he’d grabbed a beer; he sure could use one right now. No matter what Gram told him, he still felt guilty about Callie killing herself, especially since he kept dreaming about her. He closed his eyes again and wished leaving her memory behind him were as easy as it had been to leave Oklahoma.
He jumped when he heard the sliding door open. He must’ve drifted off, which was not too smart in a hot tub.
“You left this inside.”
As Tristan brought the baby monitor closer, he heard Grey crying.
“Shit. Sorry.” Bullet got up.
Tristan turned her head away and held out a towel for him.
“You can look. I don’t mind.”
She didn’t turn around. “Just go take care of your baby.”
“Your eyes still closed?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t tryin’ to steal a peek at me goin’ inside, like I did of you.”
“Just go.”
“Thanks, darlin’.”
“Not your darlin’.”
“Not yet anyway.” He closed the sliding door behind him.
Underneath the robe Tristan had found in the closet, she wore her usual sleeping attire—sweatpants and a camisole. She’d also thrown a sweatshirt on before she took the baby monitor out to the man in the hot tub. May have been overkill in hindsight.
She’d gotten two glimpses of his nakedness, and every time she closed her eyes, there he was. Of course she looked when he went inside. True to the arrogant bastard form he’d shown thus far, he’d slung the towel over his shoulder instead of wrapping it around his waist.
The curve of his ass alone was enough to make her drool. He was lean and over six feet tall. How much over, she wasn’t sure, but every bit of him was cut. Wide shoulders and strong pecs covered with dark chestnut hair that trailed past his flat six-pack abs…and those arms…how would it feel to be wrapped up in them?
Bullet’s piercing blue eyes were surprisingly warm, and his smile could easily have convinced her to shed her three layers of protection, and climb right back in the hot tub with him.
When he’d rested his hands on the edge of the hot tub, Tristan couldn’t help but notice their strength. Hands of a boxer, her mother had called them.
Her mom had been gone a long time—since Tristan was fifteen—but she still remembered her words. “Marry a man with strong hands, so when he takes yours in his and tells you everything will be okay, you believe it will be.” Her father had strong hands, and she never doubted everything would be okay when he had her hands in his.
The next morning, Tristan pulled the pillow back over her head, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the ruckus above her.
In a house full of ranchers, rough stockers, and toddlers, Tristan guessed everyone had been up for hours. Maybe she would’ve been better off staying at a hotel. That way when she slept in, she wouldn’t feel as guilty.
She pulled out her phone to check the time. Seven? She was feeling guilty about sleeping until seven? She rolled back over and groaned. She’d go for a run, but Liv had warned her yesterday that she should give herself time to adjust to the altitude.
“We’re at ten thousand feet,” Liv told her. “Don’t be surprised if you get winded walking up the stairs.”
Someone upstairs was making breakfast, and it smelled really good. And coffee. Tristan pulled her sweatshirt over her head and went in search of the heavenly scents.
Bullet knew he should go out and help with the morning chores. Lyric had offered to keep an eye on Grey a couple of times. When she pinched his shoulder and whispered that he should consider earning his keep, he relented, knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer.
“You know how long that Tristan lady is staying?” he whispered back.
“Oh, no. No way. You aren’t goin’ down that road. She is strictly hands-off to you, bro.”
“Why’s that?” And since when did Lyric tell him what to do, or in this case, what not to do?
“She’s gonna be partnerin’ with Flying R, and we don’t need any of your drama landin’ on her.”
Bullet had several responses for his sister, backed by a temper fueled by the buttons she was pushing, but he kept his mouth shut and made his way to the front door.
When he got a glimpse of Tristan coming up the stairs, he closed the door he’d just opened and walked back into the kitchen.
“Good morning, everyone,” she muttered.
The sound of sleep that lingered in her voice filled him with lust. He folded his arms, leaned against the wall, and watched her. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, with long, dark blonde hair, and eyes that sometimes looked blue, but right now, looked green. She was thin, but curvy—womanly. Her movements were graceful as she reached up to open the cupboard Liv pointed to, slowly took the cup from it, and then turned to fill it with coffee.
Bullet closed his eyes and imagined wrapping his arm around her waist as she did, sweeping her hair to the side, and nibbling on the nape of her neck. He’d trail kisses from her hairline to her shoulder—
“Dude, weren’t you headed outside?” Lyric barked, louder than necessary.
“Yeah, yeah. But I don’t want to be rude and leave without saying good mornin’ to Miss Tristan.” Bullet walked over to where she stood.
Her knee was bent just slightly, and one bare foot rested on top of the other. Her perfectly-manicured toes were painted a reddish-orange that made him want to lick them, one by one.
“I hope you slept well after your visit to the hot tub,” he whispered, causing her cheeks to pinken just slightly. He leaned in closer. “Good morning, sweetness. Ouch!” he gasped when someone slapped the back of his head.
When he turned around, Bree was standing behind him. Her arms were folded in front of her, but she was smiling.
“He tried to charm the pants off me the first time I met him too.”
Bullet smiled. “And when was that?”
“The morning you were sleeping naked on my sofa.”
Tristan smirked. “Ah. Evidently naked shenanigans are part of your regular repertoire.”
Bullet put his arm around Bree’s shoulders. “You’re givin’ me a bad name with the lady. Now, tell her the truth. You ain’t never seen me naked.”
“He’s right. I haven’t actually seen him naked.” Bree looked from Bullet to Tristan. “Wait. Have you?”
Tristan took a sip of coffee, weighing her words. “Yes, a couple of times.” She added a shoulder shrug to suggest it wasn’t any big deal, and then set her coffee on the kitchen counter. She opened the refrigerator door, hoping Bullet wouldn’t notice how her hands shook.
“Did I hear your sister say you were headed outside?” Tristan turned back around and looked into the blue eyes focused directly on hers. He didn’t just stare; his eyes were penetrating, as though he could read her mind through them.
“What’s the plan for today, Tristan?” interrupted Liv.
“I’m waiting to hear from my father. Besides that, I’m compiling a list of competitors we’ve targeted in the past, but we didn’t have enough capital behind us to interest them.”
“I can help with that,” Lyric offered.
“I was hoping you would. Maybe you and I can put our heads together and see if there’s anyone you can suggest
who we haven’t taken a look at yet.”
“I can add someone to your list,” Bullet interjected.
Tristan had almost forgotten he was there. That’s how she got when she started thinking about business. It consumed her.
“Who’s that?” nudged Lyric. “As if I don’t know.”
“I’m a perfect fit,” he smiled directly at Tristan.
“A perfect fit for what?” He wasn’t seriously suggesting Lost Cowboy sponsor him, was he?
“Come on. Look at me.” He waved his hands up and down his body. “Just think how good your gear will look on me.”
Tristan almost laughed out loud. Yeah, he’d look great in it. All of it. But there was so much more they took into consideration before they asked anyone to wear their brand. She didn’t know much about Bullet, but from what she’d seen so far, he was exactly the kind of cowboy they wouldn’t sponsor.
Bull riders’ bad raps were notorious. Many who competed in other events on the rodeo circuit thought they were arrogant assholes. And for the most part, they were right. Their arrogance was part of what drove them. If they didn’t have their heads one hundred and fifty percent into bull riding, if they weren’t the same percentage confident in their ability to cover their bull, they didn’t have a prayer. It was as much man against himself as it was man against beast. If a rider had an inkling of doubt in the few minutes before he got on the back of a bull, he might as well walk away before the chute opened.
Tristan understood how much Bullet had on his plate. His wife had just died, and he was responsible for raising his child, who Tristan doubted was much more than a year old. What kind of man got on the back of a bull when they were a single parent? One who didn’t embody the principles of Lost Cowboy, that’s the kind.
Even setting that aside, there was so much more. What happened last night told Tristan everything she needed to know to scratch Bullet off her list, not that he’d been on it in the first place.
“Players need not apply” should be stamped on her forehead. Not just for her brand, but for her too. While he tempted her on a physical level, Tristan knew she’d never actually succumb to him. Never.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five, ma’am.”
He tipped his hat when he said it, the one her father would never have worn in the house.
Too old on one level, too young on another. In the world of bull-riding, he was middle-age. If he hadn’t made his mark as a bull rider by now, chances were good he wouldn’t. Her guess was he didn’t have enough time to get to practice pens. He’d never make any of the cuts without practice.
And for her, on a personal level? He was a year younger than she was, and ten years less mature. He was a baby. A baby with a baby.
When she poured the cream into her coffee, her hands no longer shook. Bullet had lost his charm, on a number of levels.
“Sorry, cowboy. I wish you the best of luck out there.” Tristan looked at Lyric. “Give me a half hour to check in with the office and get my notes together?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Tristan went downstairs without looking back.
“I’d say you’ve been dismissed,” Lyric whispered.
Yeah, he sure had, and it stung. He could read the thoughts as they ran through her mind. Not good enough. That’s what it boiled down to. He wasn’t a good enough bull rider for her brand, and he wasn’t a good enough man for her. He saw the light turn off. It was that quick.
Bullet went outside without another word. What had he been thinking anyway? The last thing he had time for was a woman. Even on a temporary basis. He kicked at the dirt, furious with himself for not being able to keep his head on straight.
It was way past time for him to grow up. He had a child, and not just one.
Bullet walked into the barn and started mucking out a stall. If all else failed, a stall always needed mucked.
1961
Instead of staying in the bunkhouse with the rest of the cowboys, Clancy told Bill he’d have a room in the main house with him and his brother. Clancy was building a second house, and when it was finished, he’d move in there. Clive was getting married, and soon his wife would be living on the ranch full-time as well.
Bill figured that was the main reason Clancy’s brother had been looking for a partner in the dude ranch. There were times during the year when he and his mama and sister would rarely see his daddy. Running a ranch was hard work, even if you could afford a lot of help.
As far as he knew, Clancy hadn’t married yet either. “You got kids?” he asked one night, thinking that might be easier to ask than if he had a wife.
“Nope. Not that I know of anyway.” Clancy winked at him.
“So, no wife either?”
“Nope. No wife either.” Clancy stood and poked at the fire. “Here’s the thing. Women like the idea of a cowboy. They want to catch ’em, kind of like a wild horse. Soon as they got ’em caught, they wanna tame ’em. Soon as they got ’em tamed, they don’t want ’em anymore, so they go off in search of another cowboy.”
Bill didn’t think his mama ever tamed his daddy, but he couldn’t say for sure. Clancy reminded him a lot of his father. They were close in age and had a similar build—tall, with broad shoulders that came from working a ranch every day.
Clancy got a lot of attention from the women who vacationed at the dude ranch. Even the married ones, especially when they heard he was single. They were fascinated by his bright blue eyes and wanted to run their hands through his ginger-colored hair. There were times Bill felt embarrassed for him, but it didn’t seem to bother Clancy.
“Anyway, I let ’em think they got me caught, and soon as I see any sign of them trying to tame me, I end it. We both stay happier that way.”
Clancy sat back down. “Gotta say, the one thing that bothers me about it all is that I don’t have any youngens.” He studied Bill. “I figure, since your pa passed away, you don’t have a daddy, either. We’re a pair, ain’t we?”
Bill nodded his head. The last few weeks at the ranch, Clancy had looked out for him. He gave him free rein, but never enough that he could get out of hand. Bill worked hard, like he promised to. At the end of a long day, he liked to go back to the house, where he had his own room. Some nights he fell asleep before he finished the letter he tried to write his mama every day. If he did, he’d finish it the next night. They didn’t go to the post office in town that often, but he mailed every one of them in a separate envelope.
Since Clancy was in charge of sending Bill’s pay to his mama, they’d get a money order at the bank in town for half of Bill’s earnings. The other half, he deposited in an account in Bill’s name. He would’ve sent it all, but Clancy told him that was the way his mama wanted it.
5
“Hey, Daddy.”
“Hey, sweetheart. I got your info.”
“Can you email it to me?”
“Of course. Now tell me what’s goin’ on.”
“Nothin’.”
“Try again, and tell me the truth this time.”
Her father always knew when Tristan was lying, not that she did it very often, and almost never to him. This wasn’t really a lie so much as her not knowing how to answer him. She really liked being around the Rice and Patterson families. They had so much fun. And there was no shortage of love either.
She’d grown up an only child, like her father was. She didn’t know much about her mama’s family. They weren’t spoken of often, even when she was still alive.
After her funeral, she never saw them again. It bothered her, but since she hadn’t known them before her mama passed away, it wasn’t as though she missed them. She missed her, though, every day. Still did. Every single day.
Tristan never felt a lack of love from her father or her grandfather. There were neighbor ladies who had been close to her mother and made sure she had someone to take her shopping for her prom dress and stuff like that. And there were always lots of friends. Her father knew everybody, and ev
erybody knew him. She was popular in school too, and had friends from rodeo. But they weren’t family. Not like the Rices and Pattersons.
“I just miss you,” she said finally.
“You can come home whenever you want to. We don’t have to finalize this deal in person. You can get on a plane tomorrow and be sittin’ at the dinner table with us by nightfall.”
“I know. It isn’t that bad. It isn’t bad at all really. It’s more that I wish you and Gramps were here too. They’re all so nice. I know you already know they are, but being here with them, it’s just…I can’t explain it.”
“Well if you figure it out, you know how to reach me. In the meantime, let’s talk a little business. That okay with you?”
“More than okay.” Talking business would be just the thing to get her out of her funk.
Grey loved going for rides in the truck. “Voom, voom,” he’d say, and off they’d go. Bullet had been worried that after being stuck in his buddy seat for hours on the drive from Oklahoma to Colorado, Grey would pitch a fit about getting back in it. But he didn’t.
“Let’s go to the Secret Stash,” Lyric suggested.
That was fine with him. He was already feeling as though he’d worn out his welcome staying in Ben and Liv’s house, and he’d only been there a day. He didn’t know how Lyric did it. She didn’t seem to have any trouble hanging out with them, eating their food, or staying in their house. Bullet felt as though he and Grey were an imposition. But then, Lyric didn’t work for them. He did.
“They don’t think of you that way.”
“How’d you know what I was thinkin’?”
Lyric raised her eyebrow. Sometimes he felt as though he knew how his twin sister was feeling, and sometimes he didn’t. She got him more often than he got her. She used to say it was because he didn’t try.
“I should find a place for us to live, but I wouldn’t know where to start. I mean, should I look here, or near Monument?”
Win Me Over Page 4