Enchanted by the Rodeo Queen--A Clean Romance

by Melinda Curtis

  Sophie waved away his argument. “Everyone knows that phrase means loosely based on a fact or two.”

  Jonah ground his teeth.

  “You could write in a love interest for a supporting character,” Sophie went on, a dreamy expression on her face. “Jeb Clark was a key figure in Mike Moody’s final days. Jeb courted the schoolteacher, and together they started the Bucking Bull.” Jonah remembered that Sophie’s husband, Zeke, had proposed the same way Jeb Clark had done—by gifting his love a horse.

  Gag.

  “There is no romance in this script.” Jonah’s voice rose to the panic octave. “Mike Moody was evil, despicable.” And Jonah planned to keep him that way. “Besides, Jeb Clark’s story line happened long after Merciless Mike Moody died.” It wasn’t going in his script. “No romance. No kids.”

  “But you do kids so well,” Bo murmured, force field back in place.

  Jonah did what he should’ve done earlier. He fled the scene.

  He wasn’t going to turn Merciless Mike Moody’s bloody, gritty tale into a cheesy family picture just because the town he owned needed good press.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “YOU’RE IN CHARGE, Tina. Not the horse.” Two days after Jonah had offered her a job, Emily hopped down from the top rail of the Bucking Bull’s arena, landing with both boots on the ground. She’d been hired by Randall Reilly to coach his daughter on the finer points of winning a rodeo queen title. “Do it again.”

  Sixteen-year-old Tina Reilly brought her plodding palomino gelding to a sloppy stop. Tina’s attitude was sharper than her skill on horseback, at least given what she was showing today. The young brunette had promise, if she could focus on her strengths and be comfortable in her own skin. But with the competition around the corner and Tina’s unwillingness to listen, Emily would much rather have been working for Jonah.

  Emily crossed the arena and leaned on a rail near Tina’s father, who sat on the small set of bleachers near the middle of the ring.

  Randall owned a spread north of Second Chance. He was a rugged, no-nonsense cowboy with a soft spot for his daughter, hence the pretty horse and rodeo queen lessons.

  “How are things over at the Flying R?” Em asked, watching Tina guide her horse around the ring.

  “Looking good. My wife had me build a large greenhouse last year.” Beneath his straw cowboy hat, Randall’s face was leathery and lined, his hair gray. “We’ve been growing organic vegetables. Helps supplement the bottom line.”

  Emily made a noise she hoped indicated she was impressed. “Are you hiring ranch hands?”

  “No. My two boys are full-time now. Another two years and I’ll need to expand the business again just to give Tina a salary.” He propped his forearms on his legs. “You lookin’?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll keep my ears open.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  His daughter wasn’t doing much better on her form this time around.

  “Tina, your horse knows every bit of that pattern,” Emily said as kindly as she could manage. Every rodeo competition had a pattern to memorize. Contestants rode that routine in the ring where they were judged on horsemanship, often on horses that weren’t their own. “You’ve over-practiced.”

  Tina rolled her pretty green eyes. “If I don’t practice, I can’t remember the pattern. And if I don’t remember the pattern, I can’t win.”

  “Get down and hand over those reins.” When she did, Emily swung into the saddle and rode Button over to the starting point. “Watch what happens when I give him free rein.” She dropped the reins to his neck.

  Without guidance, Button trotted to the center of the arena and began to circle to the left, slowing to a walk before continuing into a figure eight.

  “I’m not cueing him.” Emily pulled the gelding up short and swung back down, ready to call this session and any further sessions to a halt. “I gave no commands. Not with my legs and not with the reins. He’s a smart horse, but he’s not going to win this for you. When you compete, you have to use all your skill so any horse you ride shines.”

  Tina hugged herself. “What am I supposed to do? Practice without practicing?”

  Jonah would like her and that sass.

  Heck, Emily liked her and that sass. It was better than her sullen performance. But that didn’t make her fun to coach.

  “Tina.” Randall’s tone would have been enough of a scolding, but he added, “We’re here because you want to win, not because you want to whine.”

  More teenage eye rolls, accompanied by a strong sense that Tina didn’t want to be here, much less be a rodeo queen, period.

  A lack of competitive spirit was a solid reason for Emily to call it quits. But Tina averted her gaze and wiped away a tear, giving Emily pause.

  “Hey.” Emily handed back the reins and said in a voice too soft for Randall to hear, “Why do you want to do this?”

  Tina’s chin jutted and she sniffed.

  “The rodeo queen competition is hard work.” Emily wasn’t going to let her question go unanswered but she wasn’t going to stand there waiting, either. “To compete, you have to want to be better than other girls but still be their friend. You have to study important issues, like what’s happening in Idaho, in rodeo, and what’s the latest in horse breeding and training practices. You have to understand the rodeo sponsor’s business, plus be able to ride like you were born in the saddle. And you have to raise money for a charity. No one’s going to be mad if you decide you’d rather help your mother with her organic farm.”

  “I’m not a quitter.” Tina stared at her fancy black boots.

  “I didn’t say you were. Or that you should quit.” Emily shrugged. “I’m asking you why you want that crown so badly. You can be honest with me.”

  “I want it because...” Tina faltered, sneaking a peek at her father before dropping her voice to a whisper. “I want to be rodeo queen because some girl at school said I wasn’t pretty enough to be one.”

  Emily sucked in air. She hated bullies. She studied Tina’s face. Her round, sweetly stubborn, pretty-in-its-own-way face. She wanted to hug her and reassure the girl she was beautiful and rodeo queen material.

  “I hate it when people tell me I can’t do something.” Tina wiped at another tear. “Especially when girls like her tell me.” Tina didn’t have to elaborate on the kind of girls who were telling her their negative opinions.

  “I hear you.” There was more than a title at stake here. There was pride in taking a stand and trying to shut up a bully by saying, “You’re wrong.”

  “So...” Tina blew out a long breath as if relieved. “What you’re saying is I’ve practiced too much, I’m trying too hard and I’ve ruined my chances to win.”

  Emily patted Button’s neck. “How mean is this girl at school?”

  “She’s the worst.” Tina grimaced, pressing her black felt cowboy hat more firmly on her head. “She’s competing, too, which is why I made Dad call you. No one knows you. I didn’t even know you or that you’d won until I searched online for local coaches. I mean, seriously, I had no idea that Second Chance and the Bucking Bull existed.”

  Emily smiled as if she strived to achieve anonymity and had succeeded. But really...

  Out of the mouths of babes.

  She was a rodeo queen has-been. No wonder she couldn’t attract Brawny Bo’s attention.

  “I’m taking your silence to mean I should give up and let Madison win.” Tina’s face pinched and she blinked back more tears.

  “Actually...” Emily had been thinking that before Tina’s first tears fell. But there was something about the teen she liked, an inner strength hidden within all that defeatist talk. And then there were all the obstacles ahead of Tina that Emily had faced when she’d run for rodeo queen—the full figure, not being classically beautiful, wearing her heart on her sleeve.
“... I was thinking you have everything to take a run at the prize. You just need a smile that never falters, the proper coaching and motivation.”

  Tina smirked. “Beating Madison isn’t enough motivation?”

  “You have to want to win for you, not to beat someone else.”

  “You sound like my mom.” Heavy sigh. Eye roll. Boot shuffle.

  “I heard that saying from my grandmother long ago,” Emily admitted. “She got on my case because I wanted to beat my best friend.” Franny. “I wanted to win because my best friend won everything.” In a way, Franny was still winning—three kids, barreling toward loving marriage number two, saving the ranch by capturing one large, dangerous bull and finding long-lost gold. Not that Em resented Franny anything. But envy her? Yes. “Unlike Madison, though, my best friend was kind.”

  “Everything okay out there?” Randall stood up on the bleachers.

  “We’re fine,” Emily reassured him. “I’m just giving Tina her homework.”

  “You’re taking me on?” At Em’s nod, Tina threw her arms around her.

  “I’m taking you on.” Emily held her student at arm’s length. “But you have to study.”

  Vigorous head nod.

  “And find something to wear to dazzle the judges.”

  Vigorous head nod.

  “And find something you like about Madison.”

  “Ugh.” Tina pulled a face.

  * * *

  EXTERIOR. A PITTED DIRT ROAD WINDING THROUGH A NARROW RAVINE. Mike removes his wedding ring.

  THE DAY AFTER Shane’s meeting, Jonah made a sound of disgust as he browsed the back aisles at the general store and muttered, “Mike isn’t married.”

  “Talking to yourself again?” Bo rounded the corner by the bread display. He wasn’t smiling but he didn’t have his force field in place, either.

  “Guilty,” Jonah admitted. No point denying it. “There’s a reason Mike Moody earned the moniker Merciless. He wasn’t married.”

  “Do you know what a habit is?” Bo perused a small display of peanut butter.

  “Of course.” Their banter felt familiar, like a broken-in pair of blue jeans.

  Bo plucked a jar of smooth peanut butter from the stack and read the label. “You have a habit of writing about precocious kids. It’s your thing. It’s what you’re known for.”

  “I was paid to write kid coms.” Jonah scowled. “I’m moving past that now.” Hopefully. His father still hadn’t gotten back to him with feedback on the story treatment for Mike Moody’s film.

  Bo shook his head. “You’re pegged as the guy to call for kid-friendly media. Embrace who you are.”

  “I’ve written other things.” Jonah stopped short of telling Bo what. “I’ve written unhappy endings.” He snagged the jar of peanut butter from Bo’s hand and put it in his own basket. “I can do this.”

  “So do it.” Bo gave Jonah a look that dared him to try. “Write about a murderous bad guy who died in a rockslide. A man who had no one to grieve for him. Not a wife. Not a kid.”

  “Sounds perfect to me.” Jonah grabbed a loaf of white bread. “I’m okay writing a—”

  “Gritty Western. So you’ve said.” Bo smirked.

  “Gritty and graphic doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be smart and well motivated.” In fact, that was exactly what it needed to be, which was why Jonah needed Emily. Retracing the bandit’s steps would help fill in those blanks.

  “Hey, Jonah. The rice cooker and steamer you ordered both came in.” Mackenzie came out from the stock room with two boxes.

  The general store had everything a person might need to enjoy Second Chance—produce, beer, fishing poles, bait, motor oil, hammers, pajamas and more. All crammed into a tight space. And whatever wasn’t on the shelf could be ordered through Mack. He’d ordered the items in anticipation of moving into the Bucking Bull’s bunkhouse. A decision had to be made.

  Jonah was about to turn away from Bo when his cousin said, “Aria’s five months pregnant.”

  Was there an earthquake? A rockslide? Jonah’s footing felt unsteady. He did a quick calculation. “It’s not mine.” And then he did another, studying Bo’s stone face. “It’s—”

  “Not mine, either.”

  “Oh.” Jonah was going to need more than a moment to process that fact. He planted his running shoes more firmly on the floor.

  A loud engine announced Emily was pulling up outside in the big gray truck with the Bucking Bull logo on the door.

  Jonah wanted to talk to Emily, wanted to take another shot at hiring her, but this...

  Aria’s pregnant.

  “When did you find out?” he asked Bo, still watching Emily.

  The three Clark boys had spent the morning with their independent study teacher, who liked to hang out in the diner on weekdays, giving kids a chance to come by for help, to turn in homework or to take a test. But they’d gone home hours ago with Shane.

  Bo stepped into Jonah’s field of vision. “Aria told me a few weeks ago. After we found Mike Moody’s gold.” Bo’s voice sounded flat, but that couldn’t be. He had to be floored. Aria had left Jonah to be with Bo, but then... This explained so much. The grouchiness... The force field...

  Was Bo considering getting back together with Aria or walking away from the situation once and for all? His cousin was no help when it came to revealing his intentions. Bo headed toward the seasonal aisle, disappearing behind a tall rack of sweatshirts that said If You Missed Your Last Chance, Make a Stop at Second Chance.

  Emily entered the store and conducted a quick survey. Her gaze stopped on Bo. Her expression softened with longing.

  No woman had ever looked at Jonah that way, not even Aria.

  “Hey, I’m right here.” Jonah stepped in the cowgirl’s path. “Have you decided to accept my job offer?”

  “I have not.” Emily slipped around Jonah and toward the back of the store. “I’m here to pick up my grocery order and add a pint of ice cream. Any interesting flavors come in, Mack?”

  Not one to be deterred, and having had a horrible morning writing-wise, Jonah followed. “The Greek yogurt selection has much more variety and is healthier.”

  Half turning but still walking, Emily gave him the stink-eye. “When a woman wants ice cream, it has nothing to do with being healthy.”

  Bo chuckled from somewhere nearby.

  “Ah,” Jonah said before Emily could locate Bo again. “You’re sending out a signal—Aunty Em’s had a bad day.” He could almost picture little Adam hopping around and chanting the phrase.

  Emily propped her hands on her hips, Bo and ice cream temporarily forgotten. “Can’t a woman have what she wants without explanation?”

  Jonah waited a beat to say, “By all means.”

  She slid him a sharp look that seemed to say, “Mind your own business.”

  Bo paid for his purchases and left, taking Emily’s anger and hopes with him.

  Her hands dropped to her sides. Her shoulders sagged. Even her expression seemed to fall.

  A little bit of Jonah fell with her. “I... Uh...” He couldn’t escape an unexpected thought—he wanted Emily to look lost when he left the room, which was ridiculous because he only wanted to have her near so he could get some decent words on the page. But it seemed the only way to get Emily to spend time with him was if Bo was around or...

  A reprehensible idea entered his head. It was the kind of plan he’d give a villain in a script.

  Villains sometimes do bad things with the best of intentions.

  A ripple of maniacal laughter escaped his throat.

  Emily’s lost, floundering expression disappeared, replaced by a cold stare. She spun away from him. “Ice cream is the only reason I’m still standing here.”

  “I can help you,” he said.

  She held herself perfectly still. “I can pi
ck out my own ice cream.”

  “I can help you catch Bo’s eye.” Jonah dared to move closer, to test the waters the way he wrote a scene when he was changing a character’s motivation. “I know what kind of woman he likes.” He swallowed, unable to believe he’d said the words out loud.

  Still with her back to him, Emily opened the freezer door. But then she just stood there. Not moving. Not saying a word.

  Jonah cleared his throat and took a few steps nearer. “Bo has a type.”

  “How do you know?” In profile, Emily didn’t look so stubborn. Her nose was pert. Her chin delicate.

  “I’ll make you a deal.” Jonah shut the freezer door. “I’ll give you some tips on how to capture Bo’s attention and in return you’ll help me with the Mike Moody research.”

  “You’ll coach me...” She stared at the pints of ice cream and gave one short, wry laugh. And then she turned, gaze fixed on his clavicle. “How do you know what Bo likes in a woman?”

  Oh, what that question must have cost her. She delivered it with a raw voice that hinted at regret and defeat.

  Jonah swallowed thickly, knowing he could only answer in kind. “Because I lost my fiancée to him.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  EMILY COULDN’T SPEAK. Not after what Jonah had said.

  She couldn’t speak. But she could think.

  Of the day she’d first talked to Jonah. He and Bo had driven into town together. Shortly thereafter, a group of college-age female tourists had stopped and only had eyes for Bo, ignoring Jonah.

  Of the day he’d come in to the Bent Nickel when she’d been having breakfast. He’d noticed she’d been staring at Bo, ignoring Jonah.

  It’d been tough to grow up in Franny’s shadow—in some ways it was still challenging—but apparently it hadn’t been a picnic for Jonah to live in Bo’s shadow, either.

  Bo...

  Her eggs heaved a regretful sigh.

  The Texan was a gorgeous display of manliness. He’d probably been making ladies of all ages sigh from the day he was born. But that didn’t give him license to take Jonah’s fiancée.