Under a Rodeo Moon

by Roni Adams

  Table of Contents

  Under a Rodeo Moon

  Copyright

  Praise for

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Epilogue

  A word about the author...

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Under a Rodeo Moon

  by

  Roni Adams

  Wayback, Texas

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Under a Rodeo Moon:

  COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Rhonda Penders

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Tamra Westberry

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Yellow Rose Edition, 2012

  Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-416-7

  Part of the Wayback, Texas series

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for

  TO TAME A COWGIRL by Roni Adams

  “Fans of Roni Adams are definitely in for a treat in the first book of this series. The story line is great and Ms. Adams has given us just the right amount of mystery and suspense to ensure we are salivating for more in TO TAME A COWGIRL. I am so very much looking forward to the next installment in The Double B series. Well done to Roni Adams.”

  ~Sandra, Ck2's Kwips and Kritiques

  Dedication

  This story is dedicated to

  all my friends in Texas, especially

  those in the San Antonio Romance Authors group (SARA)

  and the very elite group—the Muses.

  Life led me to you

  and you didn’t hesitate

  to make this New York gal an Honorary Texan.

  While NY will always be home,

  Texas is in my heart and my soul.

  Chapter One

  “Here’s some more, Sam.” Carrie dropped a bus pan full of lunch plates and silverware on the counter in the hot kitchen of the Wayback Diner.

  The dishwasher looked up from the huge sink of soapy water and shook his head. “Where’s my cousin’s useless kid again? This is the third time this week he hasn’t showed up. He’s supposed to be here by one to start bussing.”

  Carrie shrugged. “It’s no problem. I can clear a few tables.”

  Sam muttered again as she pushed back through the swinging door leading to the diner. It wasn’t quite two, and the diner was quiet. Only a few patrons remained, lingering over a cup of coffee. It was that quiet, in-between time when the kids weren’t out of school from Wayback Central, and it was too early for even the earliest of birds for dinner.

  She brushed back the stray hair that had fallen from her ponytail and picked up a black plastic bucket. Even though Sam was annoyed, she really didn’t mind clearing tables. It kept her busy, and busy was good. Busy meant she didn’t have time to think.

  The front door opened and Billy Randal raced through. Carrie watched as the sandy-haired, lanky fifteen-year-old ditched his book bag behind the counter and grabbed a plastic apron.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Montgomery.” He reached the booth she was clearing and quickly tossed the remaining plates and silverware into the plastic bucket. He glanced at the kitchen door and then at her, his brown eyes full of worry. “How mad is he?”

  She shrugged and wiped the table. “What happened this time?”

  Billy blushed and Carrie knew that it was going to be another “my dog ate my homework” excuse.

  As he opened his mouth, she lifted her hand and shook her head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter, just finish up the rest of these booths, and then you can take the garbage out to the dumpster.”

  “I can’t help it. I get down at the rodeo and get talking to the guys and time goes by like that. I completely forget everything.”

  She knelt on the blue vinyl booth and picked up the bottle of ketchup, wiped it clean, and replaced it. She repeated the same with the salt and pepper shakers. “Maybe you should look into working there.”

  “My mother won’t let me. She says I need to stop pretending I’m a cowboy and that the rodeo is no place for a young man. I guess she thinks bussing dishes for her cousin is more respectable than mucking out stalls.”

  Carrie knew Billy’s mother was simply trying to keep her son from the same life his father led, but she didn’t say that. “I’m sure she has her reasons.”

  Billy grimaced. “She doesn’t want me to have any fun, that’s what it is. Man, you should have seen the cowboys who just came in. One rides bulls, the other broncs, and they were huge! They’re brothers, and I swear they’re as big as Sam. Not big like big, but tall, you know? They look like those Viking guys we read about in history class.”

  Carrie’s blood ran cold. Her head spun and she grabbed the back of the vinyl booth seat. He was here. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. Finally, he was here. Thank God. Her heart raced so hard she thought it was coming clear out of her chest.

  Billy prattled on about the horses they brought with them, but Carrie couldn’t hear over the roar in her head as her blood pounded.

  “Excuse me.” She dashed for the ladies’ room. Once the swinging door closed behind her, she leaned her back against the cold tile of the wall and closed her eyes. Her arms wrapped around her middle as she struggled to breathe. Why was she scared? This was what she’d been waiting over six months for. She knew the Wayback Rodeo would bring Dusty to town. Straightening her spine, she moved to the sink and splashed cold water on her heated face. A glance in the mirror made her grimace.

  She certainly hoped the bull riders wouldn’t come to town this afternoon. When she faced Dusty again, she needed the confidence only her best jeans and scoop-necked blouse would give her, not the pale blue of her waitress uniform. She tugged the elastic band off her ponytail and then scraped her heavy hair back more neatly before rewrapping it.

  With shaking hands, she plucked her lip balm out of her apron pocket and coated her lips. She wanted to leave, head upstairs to the apartment she rented, take a hot shower, and hide out just in case Dusty came to town before she was ready to face him. But she couldn’t. CoraBeth didn’t get in until four, and the other two waitresses would come in by the dinner hour. The best she could do was keep an eye on the front door and try to stay out of sight if they should show up. Ha! Like that would be easy to do. She glanced at her watch. What were the chances of him showing up in those few hours?

  Feeling calmer, she pushed through the door back into the diner. Billy sat at the counter drinking a Coke and eating the pie she’d left for him. His eyes were on his cell phone, and his thumb moved with lightning speed across the small keys. If the amount of time he spent texting was any indication, the teenager was a popular guy. He was also a good kid. His mother had a time on her hands if she thought she’d keep him from the rodeo, though. It was like trying to keep a bird from flying. For Billy, it was in his blood. The same way it was for Dusty.

  Every time the door opened and the bell jangled, her heart jerked, but finally CoraBeth arrived. She’d never been so rel
ieved to see someone in all her life. She untied her apron and listened as the other woman spoke with Sam in the kitchen. She chewed her lip and watched the door. Please, please, I’m so close. Don’t let him show up now.

  Finally the redheaded waitress who’d been working at the diner since she was a teenager came out of the kitchen. She swatted Billy playfully on the head as she walked past him. “Thanks for putting him in a real good mood again.”

  Billy rubbed his head. “Hel—er, heck, CoraBeth, I ain’t never seen Sam in a good mood.”

  CoraBeth turned to Carrie and pinned her with a knowing gaze. “What’s with you?”

  Carrie shook her head. “Nothing, I’ve just got some things to do. I can’t stick around this evening.”

  One eyebrow shot up and CoraBeth rested one ample hip against the counter. “What things you gotta do?”

  Carrie looked away. “Just some things.”

  CoraBeth poured a cup of coffee, and Carrie could feel the other woman’s eyes studying her as she picked up her purse.

  She forced a bright smile on her face and headed toward the back of the diner. “I balanced the drawer out and put the slip underneath with the figures on it. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “You’re not coming down to eat tonight?”

  Carrie shook her head. “I’m going out, but if I get back before you close up, I’ll stop in.” She hoped against hope that by the time the diner closed at nine, she wouldn’t be home. Course, it would all depend on a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed, bull-riding, stubborn cowboy.

  She raced up the stairs and tore her uniform off the second she walked through the door to her one-bedroom apartment. Ten minutes later, she was surrounded by fragrant bubbles up to her neck in the antique claw-foot tub. Scooping up a handful, she inhaled the fresh scent. Dusty had given her the bubble bath last year and went crazy every time she used it.

  “That smell mixed with your skin makes me hard as a rock, no matter where I am,” Dusty had whispered as his lips drifted down her body.

  She laughed, loving the way he sent tingles up her spine with his mouth.

  He growled. “It’s damn embarrassing.”

  She reached down and pulled his mouth back to her lips, but her legs opened, allowing him to settle between them. “I’m glad something makes you think of me.”

  Carrie darted her eyes open. Then everything had gone to hell, and she wasn’t sure she could fix it. She slid down into the water and got her hair good and wet before lathering up with shampoo the same fragrance as her bath salts. A girl had to use every bit of ammunition she had.

  ****

  Joosef “Dusty” Wulfsen pushed open the door to his trailer, which was home on the road. He was exhausted. It had been a long haul from Dallas, where he’d ridden in the Mesquite Rodeo three days ago. All he wanted now was a cold beer, a hot shower, and a thick steak. He had the first and the second, but in order to get the third he’d have to go into town, and he was too tired tonight for that. He sat down on the too-small couch and pulled off his boots, letting them hit the worn carpet with a thud. A quick flick of his hands and he’d opened his shirt and left it hanging. He padded the few steps to his refrigerator and reached for a beer. “What the hell?”

  This morning he’d had almost a twelve-pack in there. Now there was only one. A note stuck inside read, “I owe you,” and was signed by Matt, one of the other cowboys on the circuit.

  “Damn him!” True, it wasn’t something he hadn’t done himself. It was part of life on the road; share and share alike. At least there was one left.

  He twisted the top off the long neck, took a long swallow, and plopped back down on the couch. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes. Tomorrow he’d go into Wayback for supplies. Maybe he’d have some steak and eggs for breakfast at one of the diners. There were a couple decent places in town, the Bluebonnet Café and the Wayback Diner. He was partial to the Bluebonnet, but he’d been in so many diners in his life, one was much the same as another. They served up good food at a good price, and there was plenty of small town gossip. He looked forward to catching up and hearing what was new since his last trip here a few months back.

  Course, there was a lot new in his own life lately. Last time he’d been in Wayback to compete, his baby sister had shocked both him and his brother Grey with the news that not only was she secretly married to their buddy, Zane, but they were expecting a baby! Of course that was nothing—the very same weekend, Grey discovered he was the father of a little girl named Gretal, whose mom was the town’s accountant. Within the space of a month, their family had grown to include a brother-in-law, a sister-in-law, and a niece. By Christmas, there’d be another one.

  When he woke up, the trailer was dark, and for a second he couldn’t remember where he was. The bad part of being on the road all the time was sometimes it took a while when you woke up to remember where you were. Or why. Fortunately, he hadn’t spilled his beer, but he had dreamed of Carrie again. That wasn’t good.

  He rubbed a hand over his face. When the hell was she going to stop haunting him? He had to get over her. She’d certainly gotten over him, probably before his rig had even pulled out of Cheyenne.

  For the past six months, ever since she left him, he’d busted his ass working until he could barely stand, all so he could climb into bed without her and sleep. He’d tried to forget her by using other women as his pain medication, but once it went past kissing, he couldn’t go any further. He didn’t want anyone but Carrie in his arms.

  “Fat good that did you,” he muttered and headed to the shower. He wouldn’t wait until tomorrow to go to town. He’d go tonight. Why sit here thinking about her all evening? She didn’t deserve his thoughts, just like she’d told him he didn’t deserve her.

  When he came out of the trailer a half hour later, he spied one of the other cowboys. What was his name again? He frowned. “Hey, buddy,” he called.

  The cowboy nodded. “Hey, Dusty, what’s up?”

  “I’m just heading in to get some dinner. Have you seen Matt?” He might as well find the beer stealer and drag him along.

  “Yeah, I saw him a while ago. He gave me a beer and said he’d see me tomorrow. Not sure where he went, though.”

  Dusty patted the other man on the shoulder. “I’ll check his trailer.” Matt’s trailer was only a couple down. He knocked at the door, but no answer. Dialing his buddy’s cell phone would be futile, but he did it anyway, knowing he’d only get voicemail. Half the time Matt never carried his phone; the other half he never turned it on. He got voicemail.

  “Hey, blockhead. I’m heading into town for a bit, gonna try to find some food. Hopefully you’re out buying me some more beer. If you’re around, call me.”

  He climbed into his truck and headed off the rodeo grounds. A few minutes later, he passed the sign for the road leading to Oak Valley Ranch. The bulls in the Wayback rodeo were from the finest stock around, and many were raised on the ranch. Another few miles went by, and even though the roads were dark, he recognized the gate. He slowed his truck and then stopped. He couldn’t get down the road. The gate was locked, but he didn’t need to drive in to know what it looked like. The Old Kincaid place, the locals called it. He’d discovered it when he was here a couple months back, but there’d been a hang up in the deed and it wasn’t on the market. When the realtor called and said it was finally clear and could be sold, he’d been cautiously excited. Everything was falling into place. His brother and sister and their families were settled in Wayback. Now he could be, too. Except for one small problem.

  He needed to win big at the next few competitions in order to secure the financing.

  Before the thought could totally depress him, he put the truck in gear again and continued into town. Before too long, he was pulling into Cranky Hank’s, and his mouth was already watering as he imagined their infamous barbecue. His stomach rumbled. He’d eaten a lot of barbecue in his life, and Hank’s was definitely some of the best. The worst barbecue he’d ev
er had was in Cheyenne. He shook off that thought; he didn’t need to get his gut aching before he’d eaten anything, and thoughts of Cheyenne and Carrie were heartburn just waiting to happen.

  Inside the small restaurant, the atmosphere was anything but cranky. The tables were overflowing with families as well as couples and even groups of young people. Although a few heads turned his way when he walked in, he didn’t seem to cause much of a stir. Folks around Wayback were used to cowboys coming and going every week. Even his larger-than-usual stature didn’t seem to make an impression on them. He read the menu on the board behind the counter.

  “What’ll you have?” The dark-haired woman behind the register smiled at him.

  Dusty raised a hand to rub his chin. “I was going to get the half rack and some beans, but now I’m thinking maybe the sample platter.”

  She pulled out a pad and pencil. “I’d go sample platter. Plenty of food and plenty of variety.”

  Dusty nodded. “Sounds great. And with a large Coke.”

  He noted the girl’s name tag indicated her name was BobbiJo. After she punched his order into the register, Dusty handed her his bank card.

  “You in the rodeo this weekend?” she asked while they waited for his card to process.

  “Yeah. You must get a lot of business from there.”

  She handed him a slip and a pen. “Definitely helped pick things up here when that got started. What event you in?”

  Dusty scribbled his name and handed her back the pen. The girl held his gaze. It was a warm look, a welcome look, but it wasn’t the “I’m free and available if you are” invitation. She just seemed like a nice girl in a family restaurant.

  He tucked his wallet back in his pocket. “Bull riding.”

  Folks either were horrified or fascinated when he told them what he did. BobbiJo simply nodded. “I’ll be there Saturday night. I’ll cheer you on.”

  He gave her a half smile. “I’d appreciate that. The bulls from Oak Valley sure make for a good, challenging ride.”

  She tipped her head and her big brown eyes sparkled with mischief. “‘Round here we don’t make it easy for cowboys to get what they want.”