"Are you sure you won't need help?" Pieter returned.
She only shook her head and kept going.
It took longer than she wanted. She ended up having to unhitch the trailer completely to get at the spare tire connected beneath the truck bed.
It was heavy work that made her arms and back ache and, at one point, she ended up lying on the ground on her back to get the jack positioned correctly.
She got a blister cranking the lug wrench, but at last, after almost forty-five minutes of sweaty work, she had the tire back on and the trailer re-hitched.
She couldn't wait to get back in the air conditioned cab.
She blew hair that had come loose from her braid off her forehead as she walked toward Pieter and Maximus on the slight hill off the side of the highway.
The horse munched on summer grasses while the man sat with legs outstretched. He got to his feet as she approached. He offered her Max's lead rope, and she took it, grimacing at the black oil on her hand against the white rope.
"Thank you," she said.
"Thank you."
She wrinkled her brow at him.
"For fixing the tire."
She waited for more. Waited for him to say something snarky, like one of her cousins would. He just stared at her.
She wiped at her cheek with the back of one hand—the only place that seemed remotely clean—and hoped she hadn’t smudged oil on her face. "Aren't you going to ask if it's safe to drive on?"
His brows creased. "Why would I ask that? I just watched you change the tire."
"Yeah but…"
He still seemed puzzled.
"I'm a girl. I'm not as strong as a man…" She heard her cousins’ voices, even though the words came from her own mouth.
She shook her head, turning to the truck and trailer. She wanted in that A/C now. Especially with her face flaming so badly. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."
"Hang on." He caught up to her, tugged on her elbow. For once, his gaze was clear and sincere. It stopped her in her tracks.
"Do you let your cousins feed you that load of crap? Because I've just been watching you work your butt off and thinking that you'd never trust your horse to the truck if you didn't feel it was safe."
That was true. So was his assumption that it was her cousins’ voices she heard in her head. She'd heard the refrain that she wasn't good enough daily.
Pieter gazed down at the pixie of a woman and her too-wide eyes. She wore a slightly skeptical expression, but he didn't have to look far to see the slight vulnerability revealed beneath.
She really didn't know how impressive it was that she'd just manhandled that truck tire into submission?
"You've got a smudge..." He pointed to the bridge of her nose.
When she lifted her oil-stained hand, the one not holding onto the horse, he caught her wrist. "You'll make it worse."
He reached up himself, carefully brushed away the dust with his thumb.
Nineteen. She was only nineteen.
He repeated the words internally, needing them to cut through the waves of attraction that battered him.
She was practically a baby.
He was only twenty-four, but after dealing with his mother since his childhood, along with the expectations of being nearly royalty, he often felt much older. Hadn't he seen the worst in people over and over again?
She was not his type, he reminded himself, but he seemed to be caught in the laser-beam of her bright-eyed gaze.
His hand moved to cup her cheek.
And then it was knocked away as her horse butted its head between them with a whuffle of breath.
"Maximus!" She didn't sound particularly upset, though, as she curled her arm beneath the animal's neck and turned her face into its coat. She’d probably welcomed the intrusion.
Pieter stepped back, exhaling heavily.
He didn't even know where that spike of attraction had come from. She wasn't his type. She was too naive and fresh-faced. He'd destroy her if he let her get too close.
He moved to the front of the truck as she loaded her horse in the trailer. His phone rang. The display showed it was the mental health institution where Mother resided. He let the call roll to voicemail. He'd deal with it later.
As he slid into the cab and cranked the engine, he felt the weight of the ring on his right pinkie.
McKenna's face appeared in the passenger window. She opened the door.
He flipped on the A/C. He'd noticed the fine sheen of sweat across her brow and upper lip—he'd been too close—and she needed to cool off.
They both did.
Pieter had talked McKenna into stopping off at a combination gas station and mom-and-pop diner, even though she'd told him it wasn't necessary.
She was worried about getting to Austin in time, but he was hungry and knew she must be too.
He owed her for fixing the tire, at the very least.
He came out of the washroom to find she'd already cleaned up, removing the last traces of oil from her hands and arms and fixing her braid.
She sat in a small booth, half hidden behind a rack of garish postcards.
He watched for a long moment as she bent over something, reading silently and then mouthing something to herself. Flash cards?
She started to stand when she caught sight of him approaching, but he motioned her to keep her seat.
"We should get something to eat. You might not have time to grab supper before your event tonight."
She started to shake her head, and he couldn't help but wonder if her protest had more to do with her wallet than her appetite. He quickly rushed on. "My treat, since you saved me from paying a tow company."
She still looked like she might protest, so he slid into the booth next to her, effectively trapping her in her seat.
A harried-looking waitress in a stained apron over a worn knee-length uniform rushed over. She stopped short and gave him an assessing gaze. Grinned at him. "What can I get for you, hun?"
He started to order a grilled chicken salad when he caught McKenna's slight shake of her head.
"Always get the special," she whispered to him, then proceeded to order just that—a bacon double cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate shake.
"Roadside diner etiquette?" he asked when the waitress had moved on.
"Common sense. Not many people come to places like this to order a salad, so you can count on their vegetables being old and wilty."
Smart thinking.
He leaned his elbow on the edge of the table, propped his head on it, and craned his neck to get a closer look at the index cards she had spread on the table.
"Who is the rodeo commissioner?" he read aloud.
She slapped one palm down over the cards and shuffled them into a pile. "I was just reviewing some questions they might ask me tonight."
He raised one brow at her. "So who is the commissioner?"
She gave a name he didn't recognize, and she must have been right, since she'd been practicing, but with her head ducked down, her voice was just a mumble.
"You'll never make a good impression talking to the table—or to your hands."
Her shoulders straightened. "I was just practicing answers."
He shrugged. "Seems if you're going to practice, you should do it right. Hand over the cards."
He moved into the opposite side of the booth, so she was forced to look at him.
She hesitated, her hands covering the cards on the tabletop.
"Come on. I won't poke fun at you."
She looked up, watching his face. For what, he didn't know, but he met her gaze squarely.
Finally, she pushed the stack of cards across the table.
He shuffled through them and chose one at random. "Define jackpot."
She explained how the rodeo winnings worked, speaking almost in a monotone.
He looked back down at the cards in his hands. "Do you want the truth?"
She nodded tightly.
"You sound a little…
wooden. Rehearsed. You should be more natural when you answer, if you can."
She bit her lip, the third time he'd seen her do that. Was it her nervous tell? "How? If I'm nervous just sitting here with you, how do I pretend that I'm not when I'm in front of a judge?"
He made her nervous. Did she feel the same attraction that had seemed to spark to life between them?
If so, he was in trouble. He had only so much goodness in him, and he'd already used up a lion's share when he hadn't leaned forward and kissed her next to the truck.
"Think about your best friend," he suggested. "Pretend you're talking to her instead of to the judge."
She nodded slowly, a smile dawning across her lips.
And that made his stomach flip.
He returned his gaze to the card and asked her about the current head of the PRCA. This time she was slightly more relaxed.
He watched her for long, silent moments after she finished. Mostly to see what she'd do when she became uncomfortable.
Noise from the patrons around them intruded. Snatches of conversations, clinking silverware, a muffled shout from someone in the kitchen.
She held his gaze steadily, then a slow flush climbed into her cheeks. Her eyes flashed.
"What?" she hissed across the table. "It was the right answer."
He nodded. "I know. I just wanted to see if you'd lose your composure."
Her face mottled again, but he couldn't allow himself to feel sorry for her. "No matter what, you must maintain your composure."
It was a hard lesson. One he'd learned first at his mother's knee, then later when the press speculated on his connection—or lack thereof—to the royal family, sometimes even getting in his face about it.
She looked to the side. She breathed in and out, her shoulders rising and falling. She was so easy to read. Which intrigued him all the more. He was unused to women who showed their every thought and feeling so freely. McKenna was a breath of fresh air.
He glanced at the next card but didn't read from it. "Don't you think it's cruel to the animals they use in the rodeo events? The steers and bulls?"
"That question isn't on the cards."
"Are you going to sass the judge like that if they ask you something you don't want to answer?"
She frowned at him slightly, but he wiggled his eyebrows at her, challenging her. "There will be questions where they aren't looking for your memorized answer. They'll want to know what you think."
Her eyes slid past him as she gave the question thought.
"There are a lot of protections for the animals," she said slowly, "both in and out of the arena. And I guess I don't see how it's any different than breeding animals for human consumption. So no, I don't think it's cruel to use the bulls or steers for rodeos."
"That was your best answer yet."
She beamed at him, her obvious joy hitting him low in his stomach. Didn't anyone ever tell her good job?
Thankfully, the waitress appeared with their artery-clogging meals, providing a much-needed interruption and another of those looks.
McKenna noticed, raising a brow at him, though she didn't comment.
After the waitress left, McKenna dug in, chomping through the burger and stuffing herself with fries. Another refreshing change from what he was used to, as most women he dated ordered salads and ate daintily. Not this one.
He sipped the chocolate shake, letting the sweet coldness flow over his tongue.
She swallowed. "It's good, isn't it?"
"You were right." He was glad he'd let her change his order.
She beamed again.
How in the heck did this woman let her cousins walk all over her, tell her she was worthless? How could she believe them?
And what was he doing, trying to use her to get close to Alessandra? The next bite of burger tasted like ash in in his mouth.
He'd wanted revenge for so long that he couldn't imagine letting it go. He wanted his cousin to feel some of the same pain he’d felt at being abandoned by his family and left to the manipulations of his mother. It was incredibly difficult dealing with a parent who was mentally unstable on his own.
For so long, revenge had been the only thing he'd wanted. How could he even sit across from someone as pure and sweet as McKenna and not poison her?
Should he just forget about the boon entirely? He could easily drop off McKenna and her horse at the fairgrounds and go on his way. That would be better for her, but he wasn't willing to let her go just yet.
4
Orange light from the setting sun filtered through the open drapes in the hotel suite Alessandra shared with Gideon in a posh Austin hotel. She sat on the sofa in the living area between the two bedrooms, idly paging through a bridal magazine. In the background, the TV flickered as it played a national news station, but she'd muted the volume an hour ago.
The magazine was mostly a guise to hide her nervousness. Most of the wedding preparations had already been put in place. She'd hesitated to even come over to the states with Gideon, as the wedding was only weeks away. And her father's health had declined much in the past months. Now he had trouble eating and speaking. Often when he allowed her to spend time with him, he listened as she read or they sat in companionable silence.
She hadn't been able to stay in Glorvaird knowing that Gideon's people had a strong lead on her missing half sister. Plus, she hadn't wanted to be away from her fiancé, and he had to visit his family's ranch and tie up some loose ends before they returned overseas.
Gideon had agreed that they would remain in Glorvaird after the wedding. Everyone tiptoed around the subject, but her father was not long for this world.
The sound of a keycard being inserted into the door brought her head up from the magazine. The door opened, revealing Gideon.
Alessandra jumped up from the sofa, leaving behind the bridal magazine.
He took off his Stetson and set it on a credenza near the door, giving her his shoulder momentarily. The tense set of his back wasn't a good sign.
She slid her arms around his neck and squeezed, giving him a welcome home peck on the lips, hoping to erase some of the tension.
It didn't work. The tight muscles of his shoulders and neck didn’t relax at all.
"I ordered room service," she told him. "A nice juicy steak and baked potato for you."
It was one of his favorite meals, but his expression didn't reveal an iota of peace. He nodded. "Thanks, Allie-girl."
She let him go, and he sat in the sofa she'd just vacated. She perched on it next to him.
"Obviously, you have bad news. Why don't you just tell me?"
He flicked a glance at her. "The fairgrounds are a security nightmare. There's no way to control who comes into the venue. On top of that, there will be trucks and trailers in and out all day. Even with a team surrounding you at all times…" He sighed. "I don't like it."
"All right."
His head jerked as he looked at her. "What?"
"I said, all right."
He shook his head slightly. "I heard you, but… All right, you're fine with the risk, or all right, you'll stay at the hotel?"
"I'll stay here."
She shouldn't laugh, but she couldn't help a huff of soft laughter at his stunned expression. "Do you want me to argue?"
"No. I just…thought you would."
She scooted closer to him and put her arm around his broad shoulders. "We're getting married in less than a month. That means I trust you with my life. If you don't think it's safe to be out at the rodeo, then we'll make other arrangements. Find some way to get Cindy"—the barrel racer they'd come to meet with—"to come here."
She wasn't sure that Gideon's hunch that there was still someone after her was right, but she wasn't joking about trusting him with her life. If he didn't want her out in the open, she could respect that.
Some of the tension left him, and he turned to capture her lips in a searing kiss. "Thank you," he whispered against her lips.
She hummed her you'
re welcome back to him without breaking the kiss.
Finally drawing away moments later, he leaned his forehead against hers. "Is it too late to elope, like your sister did?"
She brushed a final kiss against his jaw. "That ship has sailed. You lost your chance when Mia got married."
He groaned low. "I know."
She thought he was mostly joking about calling off the royal wedding. It was too late now anyway, as the cathedral where her mother and father had been married was being prepared. The invitations had gone out weeks ago—to nearly five hundred guests—and her sisters would be her attendants, as was tradition.
She couldn't wait to be married to Gideon, but she also couldn't forget why they'd come here. "Maybe we can patch Mia in on the meeting with a video call. Do you think Cindy will mind?"
A tiny bit of tension returned to his shoulders. "We still aren't sure she's your sister."
She nodded. They hadn't been able to match up financial records, although they could always do a DNA test, though that could take weeks. But she was cautiously optimistic that this was the lead they'd been waiting for.
"When can we set up a meeting?" she asked.
He sighed again. "I'll reach out to her when she arrives tomorrow. If she is your half sister and she knows it, she may not be receptive."
Alessandra couldn't think about that. She had to keep hoping.
And then take her new sister home to say goodbye to their father.
Time had been tight when they'd hit traffic in Austin, but they'd made it to the fairgrounds with an hour to spare before McKenna's interview. She’d been here once as a small child and the venue still seemed as huge as it had back then with its stock barn, show barn and outdoor arenas. Could she really win at an event this big?
After the fiasco of her broken down truck, she hadn't had time yet to form a new plan and knew that Pieter planned to check into a hotel later.
She had no funds for that. She'd planned to bunk down at one of the cheap hotels near the fairgrounds—if she could find an available room at this late date—but now she needed to find a way home. She couldn't count on winnings from this rodeo, and who knows how much money it would take to get her horse home. She needed to conserve what little cash she had left.
Cowboy Fairytales Omnibus Page 21