by Soraya Lane
“Did you sign a contract with an end date? You know the kind with a penalty clause if you don’t follow through?”
Chloe dipped her spoon back into the ice cream and rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re getting at but it just wasn’t that simple.”
“No, it was that simple, you’re just scared.”
Chloe glared at Shelly. “I’m not scared. You have no idea.”
“Bull,” Shelly insisted. “You’re scared you were falling for him and you couldn’t stand not being in control. I know you better than you know yourself sometimes, Chlo, and you had it bad for that guy. Just admit it.”
“Fine, I like him. A lot. But it was better to end now than…”
“Than what?” Shelly asked. “Seriously, are you that scared of giving a relationship a chance? Any relationship? Could it be any worse than how you feel walking away from him now if it didn’t work out in a month or a year?”
“It wasn’t a relationship,” Chloe snapped. “We were having fun and now it’s over. End of story. It wasn’t real to begin with.”
Shelly put her ice cream down on the coffee table and reached for the remote, hitting play on the DVD. “You know you can deny it all you want, but you’re not fooling anyone but yourself.”
Chloe didn’t answer. Shelly was right, of course she was. But what could she do about it now? She’d walked out on Ryder without even saying goodbye. There was no chance he’d forgive her now, and part of her knew that’s why she’d done it, so he couldn’t talk her out of it and so she couldn’t just change her mind and go back to him.
Shelly paused the DVD and reached for Chloe’s hand, holding tight and squeezing. “Can you just tell me why you’re so scared of something happening? Why can’t you just see what happens with him?”
Chloe took a big breath, swallowing away the choke of emotion that was bubbling hard in her throat. Growing up she’d moved around so much that she’d never had time to make friends, hadn’t found it easy to make close girlfriends, which meant that talking about her feelings or decisions didn’t come easy to her. If her mom hadn’t disappeared and left her, maybe things would have been different, but she hated thinking about what ifs.
“I can’t,” she said. “I just…”
Shelly squeezed harder. “You can. What’s scaring you, Chloe? You don’t have to bottle it all up.”
Chloe pushed her ice cream away and curled up under the blanket, tucking her feet up and leaning back into the sofa. She shut her eyes, biting on her lower lip before finally meeting Shelly’s concerned gaze.
“Anyone I’ve ever let close to me has let me down, except you,” she said. “I don’t want to fall in love with a man and let him hurt me. I don’t want to rely on anyone. I don’t…” Chloe tried to laugh but it sounded more like a cry. “Sorry, you don’t need to hear all this.”
Shelly leaned forward and put her arms around her, drawing her in for a big hug. “Sweetheart, if not me then who?”
Chloe blinked away tears. “I’m not used to letting anyone in.”
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Shelly asked. “That’s why you ran away from him. Because you love him.”
A big sob escaped Chloe’s mouth, and the more she tried to fight it the worse it became. Tears ran down her cheeks as she let her friend hold her, wishing to hell she’d never met Ryder in the first place. All these years, all her adult life, she’d refused to let anyone in, never let a man get close enough to hurt her, and yet here she was sobbing over a man she’d chosen to walk away from.
“It’ll all work out,” Shelly whispered as she stroked Chloe’s hair. “Ryder King isn’t a man to give up when the going gets tough, you hear me? I’ll bet he’ll forget all about you leaving him like that if you tell him how you feel.”
Chloe shook her head, wiping away her tears with her hand. Shelly was wrong. Ryder would hate her for what she’d done, and besides, he’d only wanted her to stay longer because they’d had so much fun together. She had to get her life back on track, finish her degree, make a future for herself. All she’d ever wanted as a child was stability, and she was going to work damn hard to give it to herself.
“Still feel like watching the movie?” Shelly asked, passing her the tub of ice cream again and holding up the remote.
“Yeah, why not. There’s nothing a night with Carrie and Big can’t fix, right?”
And there she went making fun of things when inside she felt like her stomach was being shredded by shards of sharp glass. Because Shelly was right. She did love Ryder, only she didn’t want to admit it. Her future didn’t involve white picket fences around some pretty ranch house—if she went back to Ryder he’d tire of her in a few months, maybe a few years, and then what? She’d be back to having a life screwed up by a man she loved and relied on, and then it would be her childhood repeating itself all over again.
* * *
Ryder pushed his thumbs through the loops of his Wranglers and hitched one foot on the rail behind him. He’d just been interviewed by a local news crew and he was posing for his photograph to be taken. Usually he’d bow out of any kind of publicity, but the sponsors expected him to do a few press junkets and he didn’t want to let them down. He was defending his title and it was something he took seriously, the highlight of his year.
“Hey, King! Good luck.”
He waved to a cowboy he didn’t recognize sauntering past, grinning to the photographer and receiving a nod in return. Ryder tipped his hat and wandered off to check the schedule. He had about an hour to kill before his title ride, and he liked to keep himself occupied, not overthink his rides too much. He’d already won the Saddle Bronc Riding title, and his final competition for the event was the bull riding. His favorite. He hadn’t been training as hard as he had been every day to not win.
“You ready?” Nate’s deep voice carried across to him and Ryder turned to see both his brothers waiting for him. Nate passed him a soda.
“Didn’t think you’d be hanging around for this one,” Ryder said. Nate disliked a lot of Ryder’s rodeo work, but he hated the bull rides—Ryder’s last two concussions had been in the ring with a bull.
“Hey, someone has to be here to pick up the pieces,” Nate grumbled.
Ryder ignored what he was saying. They’d both been taking it easy on him the past few weeks, and they’d had fun flying to Vegas together, drinking too much and talking shit. “You seeing the brunette again tonight?”
“You mean the model I met at the bar?” Nate asked with a shrug.
“No, the other hot brunette you took up to your room.” Ryder punched him in the arm good-naturedly. “Of course that one.”
“Fuck yeah,” Nate said with a laugh. “Want me to ask her if she has any friends?”
The three of them laughed and Ryder knocked back his soda, pausing to listen to the announcer. He didn’t like hanging around after they announced the rider before him—the organizers would be pissed if he cut it too close.
“Sounds like I’m up soon,” he told them, passing Chase his soda can and stretching out his arms, moving his neck from side to side to limber up. “Wish me luck.”
“You got your helmet today?” Nate asked, voice gruff. His disapproval was obvious even if he was trying to be supportive.
“Yes, Dad, I have my helmet.” Ryder laughed as he spoke, but the smile fell from his mouth faster than it had appeared. He stared into the crowd, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him.
“What is it?” Chase asked.
“Nothing,” Ryder muttered. “I just thought I…” No fucking way.
He caught sight of the long blond hair that had made him turn in the first place, thrown over familiar shoulders and reaching almost halfway down her back. When she turned, her dark brown eyes met his, her expression changing from impassive to surprised. Then a slow smile broke out across her face, and one hand raised as she waved out to him.
“It’s Chloe.” He could hardly believe what he was saying. Ryder was sti
ll staring at her, but he didn’t wave back. After walking out on him a month ago and disappearing, she’d just decided to turn up at a rodeo she knew he was competing in. In Vegas?
“You’re kidding,” Chase said, shielding his eyes from the sun to look. “You sure you’re not seeing things?”
Nate folded his arms and nudged both of them. “Stop staring at her.”
Ryder had already turned away. “What the…” He balled his fists and stared at his brothers. “She’s got some damn nerve,” he muttered.
Chase’s hand closed around Ryder’s forearm, and his brother staring him straight in the eye. “Don’t be an idiot. She’s here, and if she’s here to see you don’t let your goddamn pride stand in the way.”
Nate grunted. “He’s right. Go talk to her.”
Ryder wanted to ignore her and head straight off to prepare for his ride, but she was heading his way and that meant he had less than a minute to decide what to do.
“Ryder,” Chase cautioned. “Don’t be a douchebag. It’s Chloe, for Pete’s sake.”
He didn’t need to be reminded why he had to act like an adult right now instead of being immature and holding a grudge. “Yeah, I know,” he said, watching as she headed in his direction, head down as she navigated her way through the crowd. “You want to give us some space?”
They both nodded and turned, Nate giving him a slap on the back before walking away. “Good luck in the ring. See you from the sidelines.”
Chase grinned. “Knock ’em dead.”
Ryder wasn’t sure if his brother was talking about the ride or Chloe, but he was guessing he meant the former. He didn’t have another second to think about it though—suddenly Chloe was standing in front of him, her warm, chocolate-colored eyes shyly meeting his.
“Hey Ryder,” she said, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She’d done it because she was obviously nervous, and all she’d accomplished was straining the fabric of her T-shirt so he could see the perfect outline of her breasts. He swallowed and looked away, wishing he could pretend that he wasn’t interested in her. The truth was he’d missed Chloe like hell and he was desperate to feel her body hard up against his again.
“Chloe,” he managed, folding his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here?”
She smiled. “It’s not because I’ve suddenly decided I love hanging out at rodeos.”
“No?”
Chloe’s grin was infectious, impossible not to return no matter how hard he tried. “I wanted to see you defend the title.”
Now that he hadn’t expected. After everything, she’d just decided to show up out of the blue to watch him compete?
“Were you in town?” he asked.
She shook her head, doing her cute bite-down-on-her-lower-lip thing and making him want to kiss those pillowy lips of hers and just forget what had gone down between them.
“I arrived this morning,” Chloe told him. “I wanted to see you, then I’ll head off again I guess.”
Ryder knew how much she hated Vegas—she’d made that beyond clear the time they’d come together. He cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. He only had about a minute to get his ass over to the ring, otherwise he’d be scratched from the program.
“Chloe, what are you doing here? You just disappear and then show up without even a phone call?”
She grimaced. “Can we talk after your ride?”
Ryder wanted to ask her what the fuck had happened to make her run like that, but he also didn’t want to push her away. She’d traveled to be here and he bet that hadn’t been easy for her to decide to do, not when it was Vegas.
“I have to go,” he told her, unfolding his arms and letting them hang at his sides instead. “But yeah, let’s talk after. Come by the ring as soon as my ride’s over and we’ll go somewhere.”
“Sure thing,” Chloe said, reaching out to touch his arm and standing on tiptoes to press a warm kiss to his cheek. “Good luck out there.”
Ryder smiled. He couldn’t deny how good her body felt against his, how much he wanted that mouth of hers over his instead of just on his cheek. “You always were my good-luck charm, right?”
Her eyes met his, the familiar flash of her deep brown irises warming a part of him that he’d thought would be permanently cold. Only Chloe had ever made him want to let a woman that close, and right now he wanted to tug her into his arms and make sure she never left again. Screw being angry, he wanted her and he wasn’t afraid of admitting it, not now that she was standing in front of him.
“Good luck, Ryder.”
He touched his hat and disappeared into the crowd, making his way over to where they’d be waiting for him. Ryder had to jog to make it in time, the announcer already giving him his introduction before he was even ready.
“Next up we have Ryder King defending his Bull Riding World Championship title. King is also our current Saddle Bronc Riding champion, and this year’s defender of the World All-Around Rodeo Champion Cowboy title. Last year he was the highest earning cowboy in the National Finals Rodeo, and talk is that he’s as unbeatable this year as he was last.”
Ryder quickly grabbed his helmet and secured it, shrugging on his back protector. He checked his hat, raised it to the guys waiting for him, and patted some powder into his hands to take any sweat away and let him get a good grip once he was out there in the ring.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, fellas,” he said as he climbed up.
“You gonna kick some butt again today, King?”
He grinned at the guys before settling carefully onto the bull. “Damn right.” The bull was calm while he was confined, the big animal breathing steadily beneath him. Ryder could feel every exhale the bull made, admired his sleek black coat and the rippling muscles on display across his neck and shoulders.
“And here he is! They don’t call this the rodeo Super Bowl for nothing, folks! Please give it up for the one and only Ryder King!”
“You ready?”
Ryder adjusted his grip, flexed then clenched his fingers, and put one hand high in the air as he listened to the crowd cheer and clap. “Ready!”
The bull leaped out of the crush, heading straight for the center of the ring, his big body twisting and contorting as he bucked like the wild, massive beast that he was. Ryder tuned out everything else—he couldn’t hear the crowd, couldn’t see anything, all his senses tuned in to the powerful beast beneath him. He rode through every jilt and spin, the bucks as big as any he’d ever felt before. Time was irrelevant right now because he had no idea how many bucks he’d ridden through or how long his hand had been wrapped around the rope he was holding.
His body slammed back and forth, but Ryder kept his shoulders soft, went into his zone of feeling the rhythm of the bull, and didn’t fight it. Then one buck was followed by another, too quickly, the beast spinning around so fast that Ryder lost his rhythm and then had to release his hold, not prepared to get his hand stuck. Fuck. The bull was mad, continuing to buck and charge even when Ryder had given up, was fast about to meet the ground, and he knew then it was all turning to shit.
He was struck as he was falling, a kick from the bull’s hoof distorting his fall, and all he could see was the ground and then black, the screaming crowd fading as the bull snorted way too close to his head.
* * *
No. “No!” Chloe’s scream echoed so loud in her head she couldn’t hear anything else. It was like glass splintering into shards around her; she had no idea if she was still screaming over and over again or whether it was just in her head.
Ryder was lying on the ground, his body eerily still. The way his head had slammed into the hard-packed dirt was a memory she’d never forget. It seemed like years before a group of guys ran to him and scooped him up, the bull distracted by the clown. She wanted to scream to them not to lift him like that, to be careful of his neck, of his head, but all she could do was watch in silence as they hauled him over the fence away from danger. They didn’t have any choice
but to move him.
When she couldn’t see him any longer she ran, pushing blindly through the crowd, desperate to find him, to make sure he was okay. He had to be okay. She’d just been talking to him. He’d been standing in front of her, and she’d touched his cheek. He had to be okay.
“Chloe.”
She ignored her name being called, didn’t give a shit who was trying to get her attention.
“Chloe!” This time the call was followed by a firm hand closing over her arm, forcing her to stop.
“Let me go!” she screamed, frantically searching for Ryder, desperate to see where he was, where he’d been taken.
“Chloe, stop.”
She spun like a wildcat, ready to claw at whoever was holding her, and then she met Nate’s gaze, saw Ryder’s oldest brother standing before her, his hold softer now that he had her attention.
“Where is he? What—”
“Shhh,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close, holding her tight to his chest as she sobbed. “Just stay here with me.”
Chloe couldn’t hold back, tucked hard against Nate, clutching his shirt as her body heaved with sobs. He smelled like Ryder, their cologne the same, and it only made her pain worse.
“Where is he?” she choked out, pushing back to look up at the man holding her.
“There’s nothing we can do but wait,” Nate said, his voice gruff. She looked up into his eyes, looked through the blur of her tears to see the pain in his own gaze. “If anyone can pull through this, Ryder can.”
“But his helmet,” she stuttered. “He was wearing a helmet, he must be okay. Nate? Please tell me he’s going to be okay?”
She watched as Nate’s big shoulders lifted. He looked away, then back at her, taking her hand in his. “His helmet broke open, but maybe it saved him. Chase is riding in the ambulance with him. You can come with me.”
Chloe was numb. She held tight to Nate’s hand as he walked with her over to the ambulance. All they saw was Chase as he stared out the back window at them, his hand raised in a solitary wave as the ambulance pulled away, lights flashing, siren blaring. She followed Nate fast, keeping up with his long, loping stride, through the parking lot and to his car. Chloe managed to open the door and get in, but it was Nate who leaned across and clicked her seat belt into place. She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. All she could see was Ryder’s body flying through the air like a rag doll, the bull’s hoof connecting with him, the impact as he hit the ground headfirst.