He hit the ground belly first, eating a face full of dirt. For a long beat he just lay there, not moving. Then he shoved himself to his feet with jerky, angry motions and stalked to the railing, leaving his hat in the arena for the pickup riders to collect.
CJ let go of the rail and dropped to the ground. There was only one more rider before it was her turn, but she lingered by the rail as long as she could, giving Maynard time to clear the chute area. When she could wait no longer, she went to collect her saddle and hand it over to the rough stock team so they could prepare her bronc.
Nerves jumped in her belly as she hovered near the chute, watching Shane Marvell check the cinch on his saddle alongside the flank man before climbing over the rail. A familiar dark-headed cowboy clung to the side rail, offering Shane last-minute advice. The two men bumped fists, then Jesse dropped to the ground and took a step backward, giving his friend room to gather himself before dropping into the saddle.
CJ allowed herself a single quick glance at Jesse’s face. He looked grim, his jaw set, and she guessed he was still pissed off after their fight.
Regret bit her. Maybe she hadn’t handled his offer too well. Maybe she could have explained herself better. But maybe he could have stopped to think about what his offer to pull out said about his respect for her ability, too.
It doesn’t matter. He’s just a guy you slept with when you shouldn’t have. In other words, a mistake.
Even though it hadn’t felt like a mistake last night, or even this morning.
She jerked her eyes and her thoughts back to the arena as the clang of the gate opening sounded, releasing Shane and his bronc into the arena.
Which meant she was up next.
Adrenaline washed through her in a wave, stealing her breath and making her fingers tingle. She shook her hands out, then reached up and tugged nervously on her ponytail, checking the elastic was still holding it tight. Her pulse pounded hard and fast in her neck, and she could feel cold sweat beneath her arms.
Shit was getting real. And it was about to get even more real, because her bronc was being fed into the chute, her saddle on its back. Jumpin’ Jack was a four-year-old stallion, a circuit veteran known for his power and unpredictability. At the previous rodeo he’d spun out of the gate and smashed his rider into the rail, breaking the rider’s leg. The rodeo before that, he’d taken his rider to the top of the leaderboard and sent him home with a pocket full of prize money.
In other words, this bronc did not do half measures.
The flank man caught her eye and gestured her over. She moved closer and leaned over the lower rail to check the cinch on her saddle. When she straightened, she gripped the lower edge of her vest, pulling it down firmly. Then she climbed up to straddle the top rail.
This was the moment when Jesse had grabbed her elbow yesterday and told her to enjoy herself.
That was yesterday. This is today. Let’s do this.
She lifted her leg over the rail and leaned across the bronc’s back to grip the rail on the other side, taking some of her body weight through her arms. Only then did she rest a boot on the horse’s rump to let him know she was coming. Jumpin’ Jack lifted his head and tried to kick out, but the chute constrained him and he quickly settled. It was enough of an invitation for CJ. She eased her leg over the saddle, then slid down, making sure she felt the hard clink of the stirrups hitting her boot heels. Then and only then did she shift forward so her thighs were tucked in nice and tight behind the swells of the saddle. Someone handed her the rein, and she measured the length she’d worked out based on the horse’s size and her own reach before positioning the plaited rope across her palm and locking her fist around it.
She lifted her free hand high, out of the way, and tucked her chin to her chest. Then she took a moment to simply breathe.
She’d trained for months, eaten the right food, punished her body with workout after workout. She’d studied endless footage of other riders and practiced on countless mechanical bulls and bronc simulators. She’d ridden her way to qualifying for a pro ticket, defying expectations as well as her father.
And now she was here, under the sun, in front of the crowd at the Copper Mountain Rodeo.
She wet her lips. Took a deep breath.
Then she nodded.
Chapter Twelve
The gate swung open and she made sure she got her boots good and high on Jumpin’ Jack’s shoulders as he lunged into the arena. There was no time to think after that. The stallion bucked and kicked, twisting in the air, doing his damnedest to shake her off. She twisted and bent, ducked and wove with him, countering move for move, thighs pressed tight against the saddle as her body whipped back and forth.
The world shrank down to just the two of them, her and the bronc, locked in battle. Her thigh muscles burned; her shoulder felt as though it was going to pop from its socket. But still she held on.
Then she got too much air, and she felt herself lose her center.
Shit.
The shrill sound of the whistle cut through the roar of the crowd and a surge of elation filled CJ as she tumbled off the bronc and onto the back of the pickup horse that appeared at the exact right moment to save her.
“Well done, cowgirl,” the rider yelled over his shoulder, his smile a mile wide.
CJ grinned, relief and triumph a heady brew in her bloodstream. The pickup rider wheeled in a circle, taking her back to the chute, and she dropped to the ground. Another pickup rider handed over her hat, and she thanked them both before turning to the scoreboard.
She didn’t have long to wait, but it felt long enough. She closed her eyes when she saw the numbers flash up. Eighty-nine.
Eighty-freaking-nine.
She’d bettered yesterday’s score. And she’d beaten Jesse.
Now hers was the score to beat. And if neither of the remaining two riders could do so… Then she’d won her first event at her first pro rodeo.
As vindications went, it didn’t get much better than that.
Feeling more than a little dazed, she waved to acknowledge the cheering from the stands, then climbed out of the arena. Cowboys she didn’t know or recognize thumped her on the back, congratulating her on her score. CJ thanked them, unable to hide her relief and happiness, even as she reminded herself she hadn’t won, not yet.
Her score could be beaten in the next few minutes. Nothing was ever certain in rodeo.
Standing a few feet from the chute, she lifted shaking hands to tug the zipper open on her vest. Her thighs were trembling, too, and her neck and shoulders burned. She didn’t care—she was too buzzed on adrenaline and hope.
Was it possible she could really win this thing?
“Great ride, Cooper,” Shane said as he passed by, thumping her on the shoulder approvingly. “Looks like you got this thing in the bag.”
“Don’t go jinxing me,” she said with a laugh.
“No one’s gonna top that score,” he said over his shoulder, lifting a hand in farewell as he disappeared in the crowd.
God, she hoped not. She turned back toward the arena, waiting to hear the next competitor’s score—and all the while, she scanned the crowd, on the lookout for a certain dark-haired, green-eyed cowboy.
Even though they’d fought, she’d half expected Jesse to be there when she’d exited the arena. Which was pretty foolish, when she stopped to think about it. Not to mention revealing.
Probably time to remember that no promises were asked for or given last night, Cooper. Not to mention that most men don’t like being beaten by a woman.
It was sadly true and she was frowning as the PA system crackled to life.
“And the judges are awarding eighty-two points for that ride by Owen Prentice. Not enough to knock CJ Cooper from the top of the leaderboard. Only one ride left before we find out who’s taking home the prize money today, and I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to feel like this might be a historic occasion for the Copper Mountain Rodeo.”
CJ’s heart sk
ipped a beat and she pressed a hand against her belly. Waiting to find out if someone could top her score was almost as bad as waiting to ride. She found herself scanning the crowd nearby again—and this time she spotted Jesse, talking to a security guard near the entrance to the competitor-only area.
He nodded, shook the man’s hand, then turned and spoke to a couple standing behind him, their faces obscured by baseball caps. When he turned back, his gaze searched the crowd near the chute, looking for someone.
She told herself to turn away, that it would be too revealing if she was caught staring at him, but then their gazes locked and Jesse started moving forward. Toward her.
Suddenly she didn’t know what to do with her hands, first clasping them in front of her, then sliding them into the front pockets of her jeans. Then she got a good look at the middle-aged couple following the path Jesse was cutting through the crowd, and disbelief momentarily froze her in place.
Her father was frowning—he’d never been a fan of crowds—while her mother was looking both anxious and excited, one hand clutching at her handbag strap where it lay over her shoulder.
How on earth…?
She started forward, angling past people, slipping through gaps, until she and Jesse met halfway, her parents a few steps behind him.
“How…?” she asked, still not quite able to comprehend that her parents were really here.
They must have driven all night, a journey of many hundreds of miles.
“No idea, I just overheard them trying to talk their way past the guard,” Jesse said, stepping aside to let her parents move closer.
“Such a ride. You were so good out there, baby girl,” her mother said, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said, but her gaze was already shifting to her father.
He looked very serious, his cheeks unusually pink. CJ’s smile faltered. Was he unhappy to be here? Had her mother dragged him across the state against his will?
“Perfect form,” he said, the serious expression falling from his face to be replaced with a brilliant smile. “The way you marked that horse out… Never seen anything like it.”
Then his eyes got bright with emotion, and CJ understood the color she could see in his face was simply excitement on her behalf.
She was about to respond when a roar went up in the stands.
“What happened?” her mother asked, looking around like a startled bird.
“And it’s official, folks,” the PA boomed. “A score of eighty-five is not enough for Hardy Brooks to top the leaderboard today, which means CJ Cooper wins the saddle bronc event with a score of eighty-nine on Jumpin’ Jack. A reminder that this is CJ’s first pro rodeo, and I can’t think of a more fitting way to welcome her to the circuit. Let’s hear it for CJ.”
Another roar went up, and CJ found herself in her mother’s arms, the older woman all but squealing with joy.
“Congratulations. Oh, I knew you could do it. I knew it. I’m so glad we came, baby.”
It was her father’s turn next, and his arms were warm and strong as they closed around her.
“Well done, Monkey,” he said near her ear, and the familiar scent of his aftershave and the affection beneath his words almost undid her.
“Thanks, Dad.”
His arms tightened around her briefly. “I need to apologize to you properly later, but know that I’m sorry for being such a stupid old man about all of this. You did right to ignore me. I’m so damned proud of you.”
It was too much. CJ squeezed her eyes tight, her chin wobbling as she buried her face against her father’s shoulder.
How long had she waited to hear those words from him? How many months had she dealt with his quiet disapproval and refusal to acknowledge her pursuit of her dream?
“Oh, don’t cry, sweetheart,” she heard her mother say, then they were in a three-way hug, her mother’s arms coming around them both.
When she pulled back, the first thing she saw was Jesse standing to one side, a small smile playing around his mouth. Feeling more than a little exposed, she lifted a hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“Congratulations, CJ. Was a hell of a ride,” he said.
There was no doubting his sincerity.
“You, too,” she said, because Jesse would also pocket a fair chunk of prize money for coming in second.
“Hope you brought a big wallet to take home that big check,” he said, making her laugh.
Her parents laughed, too, and CJ remembered she hadn’t introduced them.
“Mom, Dad, this is Jesse Carmody. He competes in saddle bronc, too—”
“We saw him ride. Fantastic effort, Jesse,” her father said, pumping Jesse’s hand enthusiastically. He was even more pink than before, CJ noticed, his smile so wide it looked like it almost hurt.
She hadn’t seen him so happy in years, and it made her throat close up when it hit her all over again that he was happy for her. Because of her.
Finally.
“Thank you, sir. Pleasure to meet you both,” Jesse said, making eye contact with both her parents, his manners impeccable.
“Are you allowed to come sit with us now?” her mother asked CJ. “Or do they need you for something else?”
CJ looked to Jesse, eyebrows raised. Things were much more informal at the smaller local rodeos where she’d earned the prize money that qualified her for a pro ticket. She was aware there would be an award ceremony at the close of the rodeo, but otherwise she was in the dark.
“They’ll want you at the announcer’s booth fifteen minutes before the award ceremony, to get you up to speed.” He checked his watch. “But that means you’ve got half an hour with your folks before you have to be anywhere.”
“Perfect,” her mother announced. “We can catch up on each other’s adventures.” Her gaze shifted to Jesse. “Can we buy you a coffee, too, Jesse?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cooper, but I’ll leave you all to catch up. It was nice meeting you though.”
Jesse’s gaze found hers briefly as he offered her a quick smile.
“Before you go… If you see Sierra, tell her thanks from me,” CJ said, aware the words didn’t even come close to expressing her gratitude. “She’ll know what I’m talking about.” She’d make a point of talking to Sierra personally before she left Marietta, but it felt wrong to let him go without acknowledging his sister’s actions.
“I’ll pass that on to her,” he said.
Then he nodded to her father and turned and walked away.
CJ stared after him, unable to stop herself from contrasting this afternoon’s distance to the passionate heat and connection of last night.
This is the way you wanted it, she reminded herself. The way it has to be.
“Let’s go find that coffee,” her mother said, and CJ brought her thoughts back to the here and now.
“Great idea,” she said.
*
Jesse carried his gear to his trailer and changed into his everyday boots before going in search of his family. A text to Sierra elicited their location in the stands, and he climbed the steps to where they took up the last three seats in a row.
“Hey, congratulations. Second place is awesome,” Sierra said, jumping up to give him a kiss and a hug.
“Yeah, great ride, man. Thought the judges were a bit light on the points, though,” Casey said.
“Nah, they were pretty much on the money,” Jesse said.
He’d had a good ride, but CJ’s had been outstanding and he didn’t begrudge her the win in any way.
“Did us proud,” Jed said, leaning across Casey to shake his hand.
His quiet words and the way he held Jesse’s eye hit Jesse like a thump in the chest and it took him a moment to find a response.
“Thanks, man,” he said.
“Have you seen CJ? She must be over the moon,” Sierra said.
“She’s with her folks. They made the drive from Plentywood to see her ride,” Jesse explained. “She didn’t say m
uch, but I think it’s safe to say she’s pretty happy with the result.”
Sierra snorted inelegantly. “I bet she is.”
His legs were aching from his ride and he sank onto the concrete step in the aisle beside his sister and rested his elbows on his knees.
“She asked me to pass on her thanks, by the way,” he said.
Sierra affected an innocent look. “For what?”
“You telling me you weren’t behind everyone turning their backs on Dean Maynard?” he asked. Because he’d guessed who’d come up with the scheme the moment he’d seen women standing to turn their backs.
Sierra lifted a shoulder in a modest shrug. “All I did was send a few text messages and make a few phone calls.”
Jesse suspected she’d done a lot more than that in order to recruit so many women to her cause.
“Whatever you did, you’re an evil genius,” he said. “I owe you one.”
“I just couldn’t stomach that bottom feeder getting away with what he did.”
“People are going to be talking about this for weeks,” Jesse said with no little satisfaction. “Won’t be long before most everyone knows what he did to CJ.”
“That’s what I figured. Living in a small town drives me insane sometimes, but there are times when the local gossip network is worth its weight in gold.”
“Amen to that,” Jesse agreed.
“With a bit of luck, Maynard will wimp out and bail on the tour rather than deal with the fallout.”
Jesse wasn’t so certain about that, being more familiar with the other man’s ego and sense of entitlement.
“So, where’s the party at?” Sierra said after a moment, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “We’ve got some celebrating to do.”
Jesse smiled at her enthusiasm, even though partying was the last thing on his mind. Truth was, he felt…flat. And it wasn’t because he’d come second in saddle bronc.
He’d messed up with CJ, big-time.
He’d climbed into the chute feeling angry and more than a little defensive about the things she’d said. Thankfully, years of experience and muscle memory had kicked in once he was on his bronc’s back, and he’d managed to put in a creditable ride.
The Cowboy Meets His Match Page 15