She stared down at her aching hands. And only stopped wringing them to drag her damp palms down her jeans. The crowd’s collective gasp made her look up.
The rider had been thrown over the bull’s massive head. He landed face-first in the dirt and then crawled until he could finally stand. When he staggered, it was Matt who jumped into the arena and helped the cowboy to the side. The bull continued to furiously buck, trampling the man’s tan Stetson. Why wasn’t he wearing a helmet?
He lifted a hand to let everyone know he was all right.
The crowd responded with deafening applause. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. Ethan was next.
Please, please, please be wearing a helmet.
“All right, folks, you all know who’s up next... Having finished the season at number two, Ethan Styles is arguably the hottest rider on tour,” the announcer said, which inspired a few catcalls. “Whose agility and athleticism has won him the respect of his fans. And once again a trip to the finals in Las Vegas—”
Applause and cheering nearly drowned the man out. Handmade signs had popped up in the crowd. Some clever, some incredibly corny. One sign read Marry me, Ethan.
“Settle down, folks. It might be another minute or two. Looks like he might be having some trouble with Twister, who I’ve been told is a savage bucker. Like the other two bulls we’ve seen today, Twister belongs to Matt Gunderson. No stranger to you all, but new to the world of raising bulls. He assured me we won’t be disappointed with Twister, says he’s a real killer. I guess we’ll all find out soon enough...”
The announcer continued talking, but Sophie had stopped listening. She rose from her seat, trying to catch a glimpse of Ethan. She could see his sun-streaked hair as the bull rocked him against the metal railing. No helmet. Damn him.
“Miss? You mind sitting down? We can’t see from back here.”
Sophie heard the voice behind her, but not until someone touched her arm did it register the man was speaking to her. With an apology she sank back onto her seat. Maybe it was a blessing that she couldn’t see. Her nerves were already frayed. Why wouldn’t he wear a helmet? It was just plain foolish.
“Styles is nuts,” Lenny said. “I can’t figure out why he’s riding this weekend. With his track record you’d think he’d be holed up somewhere with the door double-locked.”
The bearded man spat into a cup. “That’s what I would do. He gets injured today, he won’t never forgive himself. Sure would be a shame if he missed the finals again.”
“You get a chance to see him ride Bad Company at the season opener?” Lenny asked his friend. “Reminds me of this bull. Thrashing and lunging against the gate like that, he ain’t about to let Styles get comfortable. What was it that happened last year before the finals? Was it his elbow—”
“Please stop saying those things.” Sophie turned to the two men. “Riders are superstitious enough. Ethan doesn’t need to be reminded of what’s happened in the past. So, please...”
Lenny frowned at her. “It ain’t like we’re saying it so he can hear.”
“But you’re still putting it out there in the universe.”
The men glanced at each other and laughed. “Ma’am, you might wanna find another sport that’s easier on your blood pressure,” Lenny said.
Sophie hadn’t been looking for a clear shot of Ethan. But that was what she got between a pair of Stetson-wearing cowboys sitting two rows in front of her. He was still tying his rope.
“What’s he doing?” Lenny mumbled. “He can’t be using a suicide wrap.”
“He’d be a dang fool, since he’s not looking to qualify.”
“A what?” Sophie asked, but the men ignored her. A suicide wrap? Okay, maybe it was better she didn’t know.
Gripping the edge of her seat, she leaned forward, her heart racing. “Damn you, Ethan,” she muttered under her breath, her attention glued to him. “Put on the goddamn helmet.”
“You know Styles personally?” Lenny asked, frowning at her.
“Yes,” she said, swallowing when she saw him give the nod. “I’m his girlfriend.”
* * *
AFTER WHAT FELT like an hour inside a blender, Ethan heard the buzzer. Another two seconds and he ripped free of the bull rope and jumped off Twister. He managed to land on his feet while a bullfighter lured the bull in the other direction. Pulling off his Stetson, Ethan waved it at the cheering crowd.
Good for Gunderson. He had a winner with Twister. That son of a bitch could buck and change direction with the best of them. When he’d burst out of the chute and cut to the left, Ethan almost let go.
Sophie wasn’t in her seat.
What the hell?
He’d known exactly where she was sitting. He’d spotted her after watching Kenny get an ass-whooping by one of Matt’s broncs.
People were on their feet, still applauding, so Ethan waved again before he exited the arena. Once he made it to the reserved area behind the pens, he stopped to dust off his hat and the front of his shirt. Matt was waiting for him with a mile-wide grin.
Ethan laughed. “You trying to kill me, Gunderson?”
“What did I tell you?”
“I didn’t think the bastard was gonna let me outta the chute.” Ethan wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. “You ride him yet?”
“Nope.” Matt handed him a clean rag. “If Twister didn’t kill me, Rachel would.”
“Smart woman.”
Ethan recognized the irritated voice even before he turned around.
Sophie had slipped behind the fence, ignoring the man who tried to stop her.
“It’s okay,” Matt told the cowboy, and the man backed off.
It didn’t appear Sophie was aware of anything going on around her. She was focused solely on Ethan, and she looked pissed.
She stopped a foot away and glared up at him. “Styles, there is something very wrong with you.”
“Okay.” He grinned and put on his hat. Her cheeks were pink, her dark eyes flashing. He couldn’t imagine what this was about, but he didn’t like that her lower lip had quivered. “Are you gonna tell me why?”
“We’ll talk later,” Matt said, nodding at Sophie as he passed her.
She gave him an apologetic smile. When she met Ethan’s eyes again, she didn’t look angry but afraid. “Why didn’t you wear a helmet?” Her voice was so soft he barely heard her. “I know you don’t owe me an answer,” she said. “I do. But God, Ethan, you’re a smart man. Bull riding is dangerous. And I’m just trying to understand—”
He touched her hand, and she threw her arms around his neck. She’d looked so sad and small standing there he wasn’t sure what to do or say. Except to hold her close until she stopped trembling. He just rubbed her back and waited for her pounding heart to slow.
“I’m sorry if I’m embarrassing you,” she murmured, her face buried against his chest. “Just give me a minute, okay?”
“Hell, you’re not embarrassing me.” He almost made a joke, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. “A beautiful woman cares about whether I wear a helmet or not, and I should be embarrassed?”
Keeping her face down, she bumped him with her knee.
“Ethan?” The soft voice belonged to a Safe Haven volunteer. “Sorry to interrupt, but folks are waiting for autographs.”
Sophie tried to pull away, but he held her tight.
“Tell them it’ll be a few more minutes,” he told the older woman standing at the fence. “Please.”
“Will do.” With a smile she turned and left.
“No, Ethan.” Sophie pushed at his chest. “Go. I’m fine.”
“Twister couldn’t buck me off. You think I can’t hold on to a little thing like you?”
“Oh, brother.” She sniffed. “Watch it. I kickbox,” she said, and s
lowly lifted her chin. Her eyes were bright, but no tears. “Don’t make those people wait.”
“Why not? They get bored and hit the concessions, that’s more money for Safe Haven.”
Sophie laughed. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”
“See how wrong you can be?” He smiled at her mock glare and wondered what had set her off. He doubted it was just about him not wearing a helmet. But he couldn’t get into it now. “How about you come with me?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m fine. Embarrassed as hell,” she said. “Though not fatally. I’m sure I’ll live to embarrass myself another day. So go.” She tugged at his arm. “Good grief, I think your muscles have muscles.”
Ethan caught her chin and tipped her face up so he could look into her eyes. “I usually do wear a helmet. But I left Wyoming in a rush to get here and forgot it.” He brushed a kiss across her mouth. “That’s no excuse. It was dumb to forget something so important.”
Her bottom lip quivered again. Not from fear this time. How was he supposed to go shake hands and sign autographs when all he could think about was tasting every inch of her? He trailed a finger down her throat, then traced the ridge of her collarbone. The satiny texture of her skin drove him nuts. So smooth and soft everywhere he touched. What must the skin of her inner thighs feel like?
“We can pick one up tomorrow,” she whispered, pressing into him and making it damn near impossible for him to think straight.
“Pick what up?”
“A helmet.” Her eyes started to drift closed, but then she widened them. “Oh no. We leave tonight.”
“I’m not going to do that, Sophie.”
“Ethan...”
He kissed her lips, silencing her. And tormenting himself. All he wanted was for them to be someplace far away, alone, without distractions. Someplace where he could explore her body with his hands and mouth. Listen to her soft breathless moans when their kissing got hot and heavy. He wondered what sound she would make when he sank deep inside her.
Her stubborn lips finally yielded, letting him slip his tongue between them.
He jerked a little when her fingers dug into his bum shoulder.
“Can people see us?” she asked, slightly breathless.
“Probably.”
“An awful lot of kids are out there.”
“Yeah.” Ethan straightened and released her. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, taking her hand.
She pulled it back. “I’ll wait in the truck.”
“Come on...” Wasn’t this just great? They were gonna end up arguing. So be it, but they weren’t leaving tonight. “Matt and Rachel are barbecuing.”
“I heard,” she said, staying a step ahead of him.
“There won’t be a lot of people, mostly the riders who are staying here in their trailers.” He watched her squeeze between the fence post and the wall. No way he’d fit so he just moved the whole damn temporary fence. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, I heard you, and you already know what I have to say to that.”
“My agent called,” he said, and that stopped her. “He’s in the middle of something with a football client. We’re talking later.”
“Did you not tell him how important this is?”
“I will.”
She shook her head. Then without so much as a glance, she walked in the direction of the truck, leaving him to face a dozen squealing kids and a pack of buckle bunnies.
9
SOPHIE WAS IN TROUBLE. She slumped down in the truck’s passenger seat, grateful for the tinted windows, and checked her texts. Two from Lola, one from Mandy and a voice mail from her mom. Since she could set a clock by her mom’s Saturday phone calls, she’d listen to the message later.
But Lola was getting impatient, and Sophie could hardly blame her.
She thumped her head back on the leather headrest. It was far too comfortable to knock any real sense into her thick skull.
God, she was being stupid. Not just stupid. She’d risen to the level of too-stupid-to-live. When had she become the kind of ridiculous airhead she and Mandy liked to make fun of in bars?
Well, payback was a bitch. She was allowing Ethan to make a complete fool out of her. He probably knew she’d gotten all giddy inside when he’d announced she was his girlfriend. He was only using her to buy time and to keep the buckle bunnies at bay.
And yet, a part of her refused to believe that he’d be so heartless. Something other than ego was driving him to go after that second championship. Maybe that something was more important than her ending up as collateral damage.
She really hadn’t expected to like Ethan. He was nothing like the self-centered man she’d imagined. But he was being naive. Clearly he hadn’t explained the gravity of his situation to his agent. If he had, Brian wouldn’t be shelving the problem for later.
Sitting up straighter, she adjusted the rearview mirror, hoping she could see how the fan schmoozing was going. She recognized a young saddle bronc rider dividing his attention between a blonde and signing a kid’s T-shirt. The crowd had thinned, but her view was still limited. She couldn’t see Ethan and assumed he was around the corner of the building.
A volunteer picked up trash while two more were closing down the hot dog concession. Hopefully the fans would clear out soon. The sun had gone down, and so had the temperature. She should probably offer to help. But there was a call she should make first.
Ethan needed a lawyer. And Craig Langley was an excellent defense attorney. Every deputy and assistant DA she knew couldn’t stand the man, which spoke to his success at getting his clients off. The reason she didn’t care for him was more personal. For months he’d been asking her out with the same dogged persistence he used to wear down prosecutors. But he was too smooth in his thousand-dollar suits and not at all her type.
She stared at her phone, well aware that if she asked Craig for help, she’d owe him. Just the thought of having dinner with him gave her the creeps. And if any of the deputies found out, she’d be the laughingstock of the whole county.
“Damn you, Ethan.” She sucked in a breath and checked old incoming calls. Yep, there was his number.
Craig answered on the second ring. “Sophie?”
“Hey.” She forced a smile, hoping it helped make her sound less as though she’d rather be eating worms. “Got a minute?”
“Well, now, honey, for you I’ve got all night.”
“I need a favor,” she said on an exhale, and then summed up the problem, leaving out names for now.
“Hmm, you know I always have a full caseload...” he drawled.
She held back a sigh. Fine. She’d figured he would milk the situation. “I know you’re busy, Craig,” she said shamelessly using that husky tone men liked. “That’s why I hated to even ask, but it’s a time-sensitive matter. And frankly there’s no one I could trust more with this little problem.”
“You were absolutely right to call me. How about we meet for dinner to discuss the details?”
“I’d love that. I really would, except I’m out of town at the moment. In Montana, actually.”
“Montana? When will you be back?”
“Monday, I hope.”
“All right, that’s the day after tomorrow. How about I make dinner reservations at La Maison? Would you like that?”
Cringing, Sophie shoved a hand through her hair. “See, this little problem my friend has, it really can’t wait that long,” she said, then tensed at his silence. “But dinner at La Maison sounds—”
She hadn’t realized Ethan had opened the driver’s door until she saw him standing there.
“That sounds great,” she said in a rush, and saw Ethan frown. “But I need to go right now.”
“We don’t have to eat at La Maison,” Cra
ig said, sounding confused. “I know this little bistro—”
“I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sophie?”
She hung up on him. “All done?” she asked Ethan.
He frowned. “Am I interrupting?”
“Nope. Let’s go.”
He slid behind the wheel and closed the door. “Did you have to cancel a date?”
“No.” She noticed he didn’t have his keys out.
“The food’s good at La Maison.”
“You’ve been there?”
“A few times.”
“Don’t they require a jacket and tie?”
Ethan cocked an eyebrow. “I happen to have both.”
“Huh. I can’t picture you in a tie,” she said, and failed to see why he seemed to find that objectionable. “Come on, why aren’t we moving?”
“Because I’m not ready to move.” He turned most of his body toward her. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.” He had some nerve. So why did she want so badly to help him stay out of jail? Might as well change her forehead tattoo from denial to stupid.
“Well, somebody sure wants to impress you.”
She glared at him. “And if he does?”
“Nothing.” Ethan took his hat off and tossed it into the backseat. “I’m sorry I screwed up your date. If you want to go to La Maison, I’ll take you there myself.”
Sophie snorted a laugh. Good to know it wasn’t just her who was acting like a ridiculous child.
“What?”
“You like the food at La Maison? How about I bring you a takeout while you’re sitting in jail?”
It was Ethan’s turn to glare. “You’re picking a fight so we don’t go to the barbecue.”
“You’re unbelievable,” she said. “You really are.” She laid her head back and rubbed her eyes, careful not to streak her mascara. Out of her peripheral vision she saw him take out his phone.
“Arnie? Tell me something good.” Ethan stared out the windshield while he listened. His mouth tightened. “Arnie.” He drawled the name into a warning, then waited, listening, the muscle in his jaw working double time. “You dumb fuck, you slept with her, didn’t you?”
This Kiss (Made In Montana Book 12) Page 9