Tying You Down

by Cheyenne McCray

  He added, “The vests bull riders wear are made of Kevlar, the same material used to make bulletproof vests.” Jo nodded as he told her that the men who used to be called rodeo clowns were now referred to as bullfighters.

  “What about scoring?” She tilted her head to the side as she thought about the brief flashes of rides she’d seen on TV. “Crazy cowboy manages to stay on crazy bull for eight seconds? By the way, your brother is crazy.”

  Tate laughed. “The bull is scored, as well as the rider, and then their scores are combined,” he said. “The judges have up to twenty-five points to award the bull and twenty-five points for the rider.” He explained that the riders were judged not only on staying on the bull for the full eight seconds, but also for control and rhythm of the bull rider as he attempted to match his ride with the bull. If a rider was consistently off balance, points were usually deducted. “Style is important,” Tate added.

  “Can a rider be disqualified?” Jo asked.

  Tate nodded. “A rider is disqualified for touching the bull, the rope, or himself with his free arm, or if his hand comes free of the bull rope anytime during the ride.”

  Jo gave a wry smile. “I’d imagine if his hand came free during the ride he likely wouldn’t be riding much longer.”

  “Not likely,” Tate said in agreement. “What are your plans with your friend tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I’m going to church with Carrie in the morning and then we’re going to lunch,” Jo said. “She’s picked out a Thai place in downtown Scottsdale that she said she’s been dying to take me to.”

  The ride to Phoenix went by quickly and when they reached the coliseum, Jo saw that it was packed. Once Tate had found a parking space and they had climbed out, he locked the truck then took Jo’s hand as they walked toward the gates. She liked the feel of her hand in his, somehow comforting and exciting all at once.

  Creed had given the family VIP seating tickets, near the center. Loud, energetic music pumped up the crowd as everyone made it to their seats and prepared to watch the event. Mostly cowboys and cowgirls filled the stands, but there were plenty of people not in western clothing who were there to watch, too.

  All of the family members who’d been at Creed’s birthday get-together last week were grouped together in the stands.

  Even though Danica had been married to Creed for a couple of years, she still looked a little pale and concerned. Jo remembered what Danica had said about being nervous. It had to be hard to be married to a man who rode a nearly two-thousand pound animal that was determined to unseat and maybe even kill its rider.

  “Like I said, crazy,” Jo said to Tate over the noise. “I don’t blame Danica one bit for being concerned about Creed.”

  Tate gave her a smile. “Creed is good at what he does. Real good.”

  “He was almost killed at least once.” Jo let out her breath. “It’s a scary sport.”

  Tate squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. He’ll be all right.”

  Jo looked at him. “This is nuts, but thank you for bringing me. I think.”

  He laughed and put his arm around her shoulder.

  She watched the bullfighters in the middle of the ring getting ready for the first bull and its rider to come out of the shoot.

  The bull rider’s name was called, along with the name of his bull. The moment the chute was opened, the bull flung itself out, its rider gripping what Tate said was the bull rope with a gloved hand. The bull spun, twisted and bucked, doing everything it could to unseat its rider.

  Before the eight-second buzzer sounded, the rider fell from his precarious seat on the back of the bull. The mammoth beast charged the rider who scrambled to his feet, but the bullfighters were able to capture the bull’s attention and draw him to the gate that led from the arena.

  Jo realized she was clenching Tate’s hand tightly and tried to relax her grip as she glanced at him. He smiled, his look telling her he didn’t mind as he gave her hand a light squeeze.

  Rider after rider sought to make their eight-second ride. Most didn’t make it all the way, but a good number did.

  Jo’s stomach tightened as Creed’s name was announced. The crowd cheered—he was obviously one of the most popular riders there. She glanced at Danica who had her hands clenched in her lap and was biting her lower lip. Jo looked back at the gate to the chute, able to partially see Creed as the animal banged him around against the metal rails.

  Creed gave a nod that said he was ready. The gate flung open and the bull shot out of the chute.

  Watching Creed was incredible. He had a natural fluidity to his body that matched the bucking and spinning of the bull. He made it seem effortless. A couple of other riders had almost that same synergy, but not like Creed. Maybe she was biased, but to her it looked like he was true poetry in motion—as much as a bull rider could be.

  It was amazing how long eight-seconds could draw out. It seemed like it should go by quickly, but it didn’t when it came to bull riding.

  Finally, the buzzer went off and the crowd cheered as Creed dismounted, landing on his feet. He dodged out of the way of the bull before the bullfighters took over, then scooped up his hat that had flown off during the ride. He dusted the hat off on his chaps then raised it to the crowd that cheered even more before he put his hat back on and jogged out of the arena.

  Jo let out her breath. She wasn’t even sure how long she’d been holding it—no doubt the full eight seconds and then some. She glanced at Danica. Everyone around her was cheering but Danica just smiled her relief as she tucked strands of dark hair behind her ear.

  Chapter 11

  Tate took a swallow of his Rock Bottom beer before setting the bottle down on the high-top table that he and Jo were standing beside. They were in Wranglers, the cowboy bar where most of the bull riders had headed to the night of the championship. Tate and Jo had stayed behind while the rest of the family had gone back to Prescott. He’d brought Jo here for a night on the town before they headed to their separate rooms at the resort hotel.

  Separate rooms were not what he wanted, but he wanted more than just a roll in the hay. He wasn’t sure Jo was ready to give him that and he didn’t want to push her and scare her away.

  The bar was dim with glowing neon beer signs on the walls and a mechanical bull in one corner. The bull was getting some use, mostly from cowboys wanting to prove they could stay on as long as a pro bull rider. That didn’t turn out too well for most of them.

  Straw and peanut shells were scattered across the floor and buckets of peanuts occupied the center of each table. The bar’s tradition was to toss the peanut shells on the floor as the patrons shelled them. A country-western band had the cowboys and cowgirls dancing the two-step, and Tate found himself tapping his boot to the music.

  He could barely keep his eyes off Jo. She was so damned beautiful, not to mention sexy, that just about every cowboy in the place was checking her out. It made him feel even more territorial—no man was going to touch his woman. She met his gaze and her smile made his gut tighten with the need to stake his claim.

  Just as the band began playing a quieter, slow song, and Tate started to ask Jo to dance, a female voice interrupted him.

  “Hi, sugar.”

  Tate looked from Jo to Daphne and his body tensed. “Hi, Daphne.” He gave her a nod.

  Daphne was dressed like a buckle bunny, a groupie who followed bull riders around the circuit. Lots of dazzle and shine. She had a big rhinestone studded belt buckle, a tight short jean skirt and cowgirl boots. A skimpy white blouse with thin straps over the shoulders barely covered her breasts and she was clearly not wearing a bra. She was made-up with turquoise eye shadow and she fluttered her long lashes, her shimmering lipstick like the shine on her buckle.

  He was surprised to see her in Phoenix, although maybe he shouldn’t be. That was how he’d met her to begin with, at a rodeo in Prescott. She’d cast off the buckle bunny image when they’d started dating, but it looked like she was turning in that d
irection again.

  As she moved close to Tate, Daphne put herself between him and Jo, her hands on his arm. Once again Daphne was making a point of ignoring Jo, cutting her out. “Dance with me,” the blonde said in a purr as she ran one hand along his arm.

  He cut his gaze to Jo who wore a friendly expression. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking behind that smile.

  “Let’s go.” Daphne lightly tugged at his arm and he looked back at her.

  Damned if he knew what to do. It wasn’t in his nature to be outright rude to a woman, but he needed to let Daphne know that he was with Jo now.

  “Sorry, Daphne,” he said. “Jo and I were just about to dance.” He didn’t know how to shake the woman off as he turned his gaze back to Jo.

  “Go on.” Jo gave a nod toward the crowd at the center of the bar. “Have fun.”

  “That settles it,” Daphne said. “Let’s dance.”

  Ah, hell. He gave Jo one last look and said, “I’ll be right back,” before Daphne took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

  It was a slower country waltz that called for their bodies to be closer than he wanted. Daphne was more than a foot shorter than him and he had to look down at her. He couldn’t help comparing Daphne with Jo, who had to be around five-eleven, and the more petite woman who was blonde, unlike Jo with her beautiful long red hair.

  As he and Daphne waltzed around the dance floor, he glanced in Jo’s direction when the crowd wasn’t in his way. His skin burned as he saw a cowboy talking to Jo. It was Jack Jones, a cocky bull rider, who Tate had met in the past.

  He ground his teeth as the crowd swallowed them again and he couldn’t see Jo or the man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

  “Tate.” Daphne forced his attention back to her. “You didn’t stay for lunch long enough for me to talk with you beyond the weather. You were in such a hurry to go.” She squeezed his arm. “Tell me how you’ve been.”

  He shrugged. “Not much is new since you left.”

  “About that.” Daphne looked contrite. “I was confused and scared. Our relationship was getting so serious.”

  He studied her. There was a time when he would have been too angry with her to even listen to what she had to say. Now he felt nothing more than what he might feel toward an old friend.

  “That’s all in the past,” he said and tried not to turn his head to ignore Daphne and look for Jo.

  “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” Daphne had a pleading look in her blue eyes.

  “I forgave you a long time ago,” he said. “We’ve both moved on.”

  “That’s just it.” Daphne gripped him tighter. “I want us to start over again.”

  For a moment all he could do was look at her. “What we had is long gone,” he said. “And you know that I’ve found someone else.”

  “You can’t have with her what we had.” Daphne shook her head. “It was special and we’ll always be joined together by those memories.”

  Tate studied her. It was more out of curiosity than anything else that he asked, “Why did you leave? You just left a note that didn’t say much more than goodbye.”

  Daphne glanced away before looking at him again. “I told you that I was scared.”

  “That’s not good enough.” He let his breath out in a slow release. “But whatever reason you had, it’s history that we don’t need to hash out,” he added, sorry that he’d asked.

  They came out of the crowd again and Tate saw that Jo wasn’t sitting at the table anymore. She was gone.

  A sudden urgency came over him. He had to find her and keep her close to him. He should have found a way to turn down Daphne.

  The song ended and Tate tried to release Daphne, but she moved in close. “Please, Tate. Let’s give it another shot.”

  He shook his head as he took her by the shoulders and set her apart from him. “We can be friends, but that’s it.”

  Her face fell and she bit her lower lip, something she’d always done before she cried.

  He dragged his hand down his face. Seeing a woman cry always cut right through him. He had to find Jo before tears started rolling down Daphne’s cheeks.

  With his gaze he searched the room. He couldn’t see Jo anywhere. “I need to find Jo.” He said the words as gently as possible. “Thank you for the dance.”

  He left Daphne there, hoping she wasn’t crying.

  It was only a matter of moments before he saw Jo two-stepping with Jack Jones. Tate cut through the crowd standing at the fringes of the dance floor.

  He went up to Jones and tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m cutting in,” he said.

  Jones scowled and looked like he was going to refuse but backed away as Tate took over.

  Tate met Jo’s gaze. “Sorry about that,” he said over the music.

  Jo easily kept in step with him. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

  The song ended and he walked with Jo back to their table, his hand settled at her waist. When they were seated, he put his arm around the back of her chair. He nuzzled her hair, drinking in her scent, and kissed her on top of the head.

  He moved his mouth close to her ear. “Ready to head to the hotel?”

  “Yes.” She nodded and he felt a slight shiver run through her as he brushed his lips behind her ear.

  He stood and took her hand, drawing her to her feet. The fall night would be cool and she was glad she’d brought her jean jacket in with her. She slipped her arms into it and then he took her hand. They walked out of the bar and headed for his truck.

  Chapter 12

  Jo’s belly fluttered as she and Tate walked into the Scottsdale resort hotel’s lobby. They headed to the front desk where the female reservation specialist asked for their names.

  “I see you’ve booked a connecting suite, Mr. McBride,” the woman said.

  “We’ll take a room with a king bed rather than the suite,” Jo said before Tate could get anything out.

  After the time they’d been spending together over the past few weeks, a separate room was not what Jo wanted. She knew that much. Still, she appreciated that he hadn’t assumed anything.

  She met his gaze and his green eyes seemed to grow darker, his body tense.

  Tate gave the woman a nod as he handed her a credit card.

  When the woman returned his credit card along with a small folder with their key cards in it, Tate and Jo headed to the elevators. Sexual tension thrummed between them as they stepped into the first available elevator and the doors closed shut behind them.

  He carried her overnight bag along with his own bag and he said nothing as he studied her. She couldn’t think of anything to say, either. All she knew was that she wanted him.

  When they reached their room on the third floor he swiped the key card to unlock the door, then held it open for her. Her pulse raced as she walked past him, feeling the heat of him as her body brushed his.

  He let the door shut behind them and she was so finely strung that the sound was loud enough to make her jump. She faced him as he let their bags drop to the floor.

  Before he could say or do anything, she turned and walked to the room’s desk and reached for the leather binder that contained the resort hotel’s amenities and other information. She avoided Tate’s gaze. Flutters continually went through her belly. She felt nervous and edgy, and not sure what to do.

  She finally looked over to see him standing in the middle of the room, watching her. “Why don’t we order something from room service?” she asked, more as something to hold off what was sure to come next. What she wanted to come next.

  He gave a slow nod and moved closer to her. She slipped into the chair at the desk and opened the binder to the room service section and looked over the late night menu. He stood behind her and settled his hands on her shoulders.

  She could hardly think straight, much less pick out something to order, when he started massaging her.

  “That feels so good.” She closed her eyes and tipped
her head against the seat back. “But I can’t concentrate while you do that.” She felt his lips press against her forehead before he drew away. “I’ll take a rain check, though.” With a sigh she opened her eyes, straightened in her chair, and looked up at him.

  “Deal.” He gave her a sexy little smile that made her sigh again. “How about dessert?”

  She looked back at the menu and flipped to the dessert section. “There’s chocolate cake, cheesecake, ice cream, and fresh fruit.”

  “The chocolate cake and fruit,” he said. “If that sounds good to you.”

  She picked up the phone, dialed room service, and put in the order. “They said twenty to thirty minutes,” she said when she hung up the receiver.

  She took a deep breath before standing and facing Tate. Before she could stop herself, she placed her hands on his chest as their eyes met and she slid her palms up to his shoulders. He grasped her waist and drew her against him so that their bodies were flush and she felt his hardness through his jeans and hers.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked as he embraced her. “Once I take you, I intend to keep you.”

  Her eyes widened and her lips parted. “Keep me?”

  He pressed his body more tightly to hers, one hand on her ass, and one hand cupping the back of her head.

  “Ah, hell,” he said as he looked into her eyes. “I intend to keep you anyway.”

  She knew she should stop, should run. Tate was laying his claim on her. Once she took this step, there was no going back. Was there?

  Her whole body seemed to tremble with need, with apprehension, and with more need. What she wanted more than anything right now was to be with Tate.

  He lowered his face and she shivered when she felt his warm breath as he nuzzled her hair. He moved his lips down the shell of her ear and nipped her earlobe.