Her Rodeo Man

by Cathy McDavid

  “I think so, too.” She studied the banner, tapping her lower lip with her finger. “Just wish I could see all of it.”

  “Here.” He grabbed one end and lifted it off her desk. “You get that side.”

  They stood opposite each other, the banner stretched between them.

  “The logo’s new.” Ryder referred to the silhouette of a bucking horse kicking a dollar sign into the air. “I like it. Your design?”

  “Yes.” Tatum couldn’t resist a grin.

  “You’re good.”

  A warm feeling bloomed inside her that had less to do with his praise and more to do with the sexy timbre of his voice. Stay strong, she warned herself.

  “I was worried it wouldn’t get here in time for the parade,” she said.

  “Mom mentioned we have an entry.”

  As usual. Participating in the Wild West Days parade was a longstanding Beckett tradition.

  “Will you be riding with the family?” Tatum moved toward him, folding the banner as she did.

  Ryder did the same. “Doubtful.”

  “Why not?”

  Many of the arena’s students would accompany the Beckett family. They’d had to limit the number to the first thirty who’d signed up, the maximum parade regulations allowed. Two of the advanced students, astride their trustworthy horses, had been chosen to ride at the front of the group, each carrying one end of the banner. During the rest of the year, it would be used for the opening and closing ceremonies in their various rodeos and horse shows.

  “We’ll see,” Ryder hedged.

  “It’ll be fun.”

  “Are you riding in the parade?” The tone of his voice made her think he’d change his mind if she were to say yes.

  “No. But I’m taking my kids to watch. They love it.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

  They finished folding and stood together, toe to toe. A small tingle of awareness climbed Tatum’s spine. “Are you ready to start on the contracts?”

  “Where’s the best place to sit?”

  Good question, and one that caused her awareness of him to escalate. The other day, he’d occupied a visitor chair, and they’d passed files back and forth over her desk. That arrangement wouldn’t work today; he needed to see her computer screen. Why hadn’t she thought of this before?

  “Well, um...” She went to stand behind her desk, as if that vantage point would prompt an idea.

  He suddenly lifted the visitor chair and carried it over to the cramped space beside her.

  “It’s a little tight,” she observed.

  It was a lot tight. Tatum scooted her chair to the right, creating maybe three extra inches.

  “Luckily I showered today,” Ryder said in jest before sitting.

  Yeah. She’d noticed his crisp, fresh scent earlier. Lowering herself onto her chair, she strived for control by getting straight to business.

  “Did you read the draft letter I emailed you yesterday?” She’d composed a follow-up contract for the secretary at the mining company.

  “I did. Well worded.”

  Again, more praise delivered in that incredible voice of his. How had the female members of his team at the marketing firm been able to concentrate with him as their leader?

  “Should I send it to her?”

  “Include a discount coupon.”

  She nodded. “I’ve also been working on that list of potential companies for reciprocal advertising.” She clicked on a document. “These are just for Arizona. I wasn’t sure what other states you wanted to try.”

  “New Mexico, for sure. And southern California.”

  They’d finished with the list and were reviewing the current client roster when Sunny returned from giving potential new clients a tour of the grounds.

  The look of concentration on Sunny’s face vanished upon seeing Ryder. “Hi, honey.” She came over, bent and kissed the top of his head.

  The gesture was sweet and motherly and very much like one Tatum gave her own children. Only they didn’t stiffen their jaw muscles.

  “Hey, Mom.” Ryder’s neutral tone was in stark contrast to his mother’s warm one.

  Sunny’s features fell. The next instant she composed herself. “I see you’re working. I won’t bother you.” She headed to her office. Fled was a better description.

  Tatum bit her tongue. As bad as she felt for her boss, it wasn’t her place to say anything. She also sensed Ryder wasn’t one to be pushed. Any reconciliation would be on his terms.

  Still, her heart ached. Ryder and Sunny weren’t the only ones affected. All of the Becketts suffered along with mother and son. Did Ryder not see that?

  An hour later, he and Tatum were knee deep in the bucking contract files. Where had the afternoon gone? Soon, she’d have to leave to pick up Gretchen from school and the boys from day care. Not Benjie. Cassidy had taken him out of class for a dentist appointment.

  Ryder had made copious notes as they’d worked, his bold, strong strokes filling the pages. Several times, Tatum had to stop and answer the phone or deal with a customer. Ryder remained ever patient.

  She was just explaining about the Haversons from the Shade Tree Arena in Wickenburg when the phone rang again. Only this time, it was her cell phone from her purse in the lower desk drawer.

  Hmm. Most people knew better than to bother her during working hours. This was either a sales call or something important.

  “Excuse me.” She maneuvered her knees to the side in order to access the drawer. Naturally, that caused them to press against Ryder’s. “It’s my babysitter,” she said, already starting to worry.

  “Sorry to bother you,” her sitter said in a rush. “It’s Drew. He was playing kick ball in the yard with the other kids and hurt his finger.”

  “How bad is it?” Tatum imagined a cut or sprain.

  “Bad. It’s sticking straight out at this really weird angle. I’m pretty sure he broke it.”

  Without thinking, Tatum scrambled to her feet and tried to push past Ryder, shaking badly enough she nearly dropped the phone. She did drop her purse. “I have to go. Drew’s hurt.”

  Ryder blocked her exit. “I’ll take you.”

  “I can’t ask that of you.”

  “You’re too upset to think straight, much less drive.”

  “Gretchen’s out at three. She’ll be waiting for me at the school.”

  He took her by the arm, his firm hold silencing any argument. “I’ll pick her up after I take you and the boys to the clinic.”

  “What about Adam’s car seat? Your truck—”

  “Where’s your car parked?”

  “Behind the barn.”

  Over his shoulder he called, “Mom, I’m taking Tatum to pick up Drew. He’s been hurt.”

  Sunny came rushing out. “Do you need anything? Is he all right?”

  “A broken finger.”

  “You’d better hurry.”

  “I’m so sorry to leave you in a bind.” Tatum swallowed a sob.

  “Call me later,” Sunny said.

  “I will. I promise.”

  Ryder didn’t let go of Tatum’s arm until they reached her car.

  Little by little, she relaxed. It had been a long time since she’d let a capable man take control. She could easily grow accustomed to the change.

  * * *

  FIRST, RYDER DELIVERED TATUM, Drew and Adam to the small medical clinic in town. Then, after Tatum made arrangements with the school, he picked up Gretchen and drove her to the clinic.

  They spent exactly ten minutes there. The physician’s assistant on duty could do no more for Drew’s dislocated pinky finger than immobilize it, secure an ice pack to his hand with an elastic bandage and administer a mild pain reliever.
r />   “You need to see a doctor,” she advised. “To set the finger. Preferably an orthopedic surgeon.”

  At ten past four, they had no choice but to drive into Globe and wait in line at the hospital emergency room—along with countless other sick and injured individuals. Drew couldn’t go the entire weekend with a dislocated finger.

  Tatum fretted endlessly on the drive to Globe. About Drew, who thought his pinky protruding at a ninety degree angle was cool. About Adam, who fussed and whined because he’d missed his afternoon nap. About inconveniencing Ryder. About leaving abruptly and dumping her work on Sunny. About the costs and whether the health insurance would pay for an emergency-room visit. About whether she should call Monty or just wait.

  “Take it easy,” Ryder told her and reached across the seat to comfort her. When he would have removed his hand from hers, Tatum gripped his fingers and squeezed as if he alone was responsible for keeping her anchored in place.

  He didn’t complain and steered the car with his other hand.

  “I’m trying.” She glanced at Drew in the backseat, bracketed by Adam in the car seat on his right and a very grumpy Gretchen on his left. Apparently she was supposed to go to a friend’s house after school. Tatum had admitted to forgetting about it in all the rush. “I should be glad it’s relatively minor and something that will heal.”

  “He’ll be fine. I’ve broken plenty of bones in my life. Survived every one.”

  “Rodeoing?”

  “Most. A couple years ago, I busted my ankle playing second base at a company softball game. We lost anyway.”

  She offered up a weak smile.

  “That’s better,” he said, wishing he could do more to ease her anxiety.

  She released his fingers and rested her hands in her lap.

  Damn. That had been nice. Sweet. Gentle. With his former coworker, intimacy had been for one purpose only, as if their relationship was too trivial to sustain any emotional depth. Was that why she’d been so angry at him for calling it off?

  The line at the ER was long. Ryder’s gaze traveled the entire length of the room, noting the majority of chairs were occupied. A teenaged girl in gym clothes held an ice pack to her collarbone. An elderly man with a crudely bandaged hand cursed the dog that bit him. In every corner of the room, adults and children alike coughed and hacked, fighting off the early flu bug going around.

  Ryder guided their small group over outstretched legs to the only available seats. Tatum then read to, cajoled, rocked, and played games with her children in an attempt to keep them from fussing too much. An hour later, a nurse toting a clipboard called Drew’s name.

  “I want to go with Mommy,” Gretchen complained when the nurse informed them that she and Adam weren’t allowed in the examining area. “Not fair.”

  “I’m sorry to ask this.” Tatum gave Ryder a pleading look.

  “You just take care of Drew.” Certainly, he could handle a two-and seven-year-old for a few minutes.

  “You listen to Mr. Beckett, you hear me? Don’t give him any trouble.”

  Adam ignored his mother and attempted to scale Ryder’s knee. He had to help the boy the last foot into his lap. Gretchen pouted and plunked herself down on her seat, leaving an empty chair between her and Ryder. She still hadn’t forgiven him for...to be honest, he wasn’t sure what.

  “But I don’t want them to fix my finger,” Drew moaned as Tatum led him by his good hand. “It’s awesome.”

  They disappeared with the clipboard-carrying nurse though a double door.

  “You want to color or something?” Ryder asked Gretchen. “There’s some books over there.” He had to crank his head sideways to see around Adam, who stood on Ryder’s thigh, bouncing in place and talking up a storm in some kind of alien language. Geez, the kid was actually heavy, and his shoes were hard as concrete.

  “I’m too old to color.” Gretchen stared at the TV hanging on the wall playing an infomercial for a cleaning product. She couldn’t possibly be interested in that.

  “Okay.”

  She gave him an entire minute before demanding, “That’s it?”

  “I guess.”

  “You’re supposed to ask me if I want to read a book or hear a story.”

  “I don’t know any stories.” Not any suitable for little girls.

  She huffed. “I don’t know why my mom likes you.”

  “She likes me?” Ryder really shouldn’t have been so pleased by this revelation. But he was. Immensely. “Did she tell you that?”

  Gretchen’s response was to fold her arms across her middle, drop her chin to her chest and pout.

  “Hungwee,” Adam said and flung himself over Ryder’s right shoulder.

  “Sorry, pal. We’re going to have to wait until your mom gets back.” Ryder wondered if there was some way he could wrangle Adam off his lap and into the empty chair. The young man sitting across from Ryder and talking on his cell phone didn’t look particularly happy about a loud, rambunctious kid in such close proximity.

  “Hungwee,” Adam shouted.

  “There’s a vending machine in the hallway.” The suggestion came from a woman accompanying her sick friend. “You can probably find something for your son.”

  “He’s not our daddy!” Gretchen turned pink with indignation.

  “Oh.” The woman drew back. “My mistake.”

  “No worries.” Ryder stood, lifting Adam as he did. “Come on, big guy. You, too,” he added when Gretchen didn’t move.

  “I’m staying.”

  Given her stubborn streak, he should have anticipated this. “You’re not hungry?”

  Interest flickered in her eyes.

  “Hungwee,” Adam bellowed directly into Ryder’s ear, nearly deafening him.

  Gretchen stood, one painstakingly slow inch at a time.

  Finally. Another minute and Ryder’s teeth would be ground to nubs.

  “I can’t eat anything with gluten in it,” she announced.

  There were exactly three items in the vending machine that met the gluten-free requirement.

  “I hate corn nuts,” she announced. “And peanuts.”

  Ryder inserted several dollar bills into the machine and pressed a button. “Corn chips it is.”

  She accepted them grudgingly.

  “Does Adam like corn chips, too?”

  “He’s not supposed to have junk food.”

  That left few choices as the vending machine was loaded with junk food. Ryder selected some awful-looking orange crackers with yellow cheese for him.

  “Aren’t you hungry, too?” Gretchen asked.

  Ryder moved to the next machine. “I’m having a soda.”

  “Mom says sodas are bad for you. They’re full of sugar. Can I have a juice?”

  The only non-soda selections were plain bottled water and vitamin water. Ryder bought two of the latter and a cola for himself. Hopefully, Tatum would approve of his choice, or at least, cut him some slack, given the circumstances.

  When they returned to the waiting area, Gretchen sat next to Ryder—interesting—and ate in silence. Adam gobbled three crackers and drank half his vitamin water, some of which spilled on to his clothes, then promptly fell asleep atop Ryder.

  Ten minutes into the nap, Ryder’s left arm went numb. He shifted Adam to the other side. The boy, out like a light, didn’t so much as twitch an eyelash.

  Gretchen had finished her chips. Ryder pretended not to notice when she got up and ambled toward the table in the corner with the coloring books and crayons.

  His cell phone rang three times. The first call was from Cassidy, wanting an update. Ryder spoke softly, not wanting to wake up Adam.

  “Haven’t heard yet. They’re back with the doctor.”

  “Poor Tatum. She doesn’t need
another problem.”

  “She seems to be hanging in there.”

  “What about Gretchen and Adam?”

  “She’s coloring and he’s sleeping.” Ryder shifted the boy again, this time laying him across his lap like a rag doll.

  “How did you wind up driving them to Globe?”

  “Tatum was upset, and I was there.”

  “Hmm. Well, okay. Seems like you have everything handled.” Her tone revealed surprise and—could it be?—a hint of admiration. “Tell Tatum to call me when she has a minute.”

  The third call came from Myra Solomon. “I’ve already generated some buzz about you. There’s a firm in Denver showing interest.”

  “That’s great.” Ryder’s enthusiasm was several degrees lower than he’d expected.

  “Can you get here now to film that video interview? We’ll stay late.”

  He was supposed to have gone in yesterday for the video interview but had stalled Myra. He knew his next answer would disappoint her.

  “I can’t. I’m at the ER with a friend. Her son injured himself playing kick ball.”

  “Ryder.” The headhunter’s warning was unmistakable. “You can’t put this off any longer.”

  “First thing, Monday morning. I promise.”

  “I’d better see your smiling face here by nine a.m. on the dot.”

  “You will.” That gave him two days to come up with an excuse for his absence from the Easy Money. The family was bound to notice.

  Finally Tatum and Drew emerged through the door, a different nurse accompanying them. Drew’s hand was heavily bandaged, the finger no longer sticking out, and his arm in a sling. His earlier glee had disappeared. In fact, he looked as if he’d been crying. Setting the finger must have hurt.

  As they approached, Ryder could hear the young man going over Drew’s discharge instructions with Tatum. If her streaked mascara was any indication, she’d been crying, too.

  “Read everything carefully. Doctor recommends using over-the-counter liquid children’s acetaminophen. If his pain is acute, call this number, and he’ll prescribe something stronger. Rest and confinement for the next few days. No strenuous activity for a month.”