The Bull Rider's Son

by Cathy McDavid

  Shane waited until she lowered herself to the ground before stating the obvious. “Every time I say something you don’t like or that makes you uncomfortable, you run off.”

  He half expected her to deny it, but she didn’t.

  “Then stop saying things I don’t like and that make me uncomfortable.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re something else, Cassidy Beckett.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It was intended as one.” More so than she probably realized.

  She entered the pen and fetched her reluctant son. It seemed Benjie wasn’t done playing with Bria. Shane was glad the two were getting along. He wanted his daughter to fit in at the Easy Money and to make friends.

  “I supposed we should call it a day, too.” He took hold of Skittles’s bridle and led the horse through the gate. “I promised your mother I’d have you home by seven thirty.”

  Bria’s features fell. “Can I stay over again?”

  How he wished he could accommodate her. Nothing would make him happier. But he didn’t dare push the boundaries of his agreement with Bria’s mother, who’d been adamant that their daughter attend preschool on weekday mornings. Once he’d proved himself, then, yes, he’d insist on more time. Shane was smart enough to take things slowly.

  “Sorry, kiddo. But maybe your mom will let you come back this weekend.” Judy had mentioned attending a real estate class on Saturday. She might appreciate Shane babysitting.

  While he and Cassidy unsaddled and brushed down the mounts, the kids played a game of tag in the barn aisle. Benjie could have easily won, but he let Bria catch him more than once.

  “He’s good with her,” Shane told Cassidy. “Considering he’s a year older and a boy.”

  “Benjie’s used to socializing with kids of all ages. They’re a staple at the arena.” Untying Rusty’s lead rope, she walked ahead. “Come on, Benjie. Help me put Rusty in his stall.”

  Bria stared after them, her expression bereft. Shane cheered her by lifting her up and setting her on Skittles’s bare back.

  “Hold on to his mane,” he instructed and returned the old horse to his stall, three down from Rusty’s. Shane used the opportunity to continue conversing with Cassidy.

  “Maybe next Saturday we can take them on a trail ride together?” He’d heard a lot about the rolling mountains beyond the Easy Money’s back pastures, but had not yet found the time to ride them.

  “I’m working. The Jamboree’s in two weeks.”

  She was referring to the arena’s next big rodeo. Shane would be busy, too. Yet, he couldn’t take no for an answer.

  “How much would it hurt if we quit an hour early?” He removed Skittles’s halter and lifted Bria from the horse’s back. She scampered over to Benjie.

  “I’m not going on a date with you,” Cassidy said.

  “It’s not a date. We’re talking a trail ride with Benjie and Bria. Invite your friend Tatum and her kids if you want.”

  “Bad idea.” She shut the door on Rusty’s stall. “Besides, I have other plans. A...family function.”

  “We were friends once. We can be again.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Only if you make it complicated.”

  “No.”

  “Why? Because of Hoyt?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You still care for him.”

  “I don’t. He means nothing to me.”

  Shane recalled their brief kiss the other day and the sparks that had ignited between them. “What about me, Cassidy? Do I mean anything to you?”

  Her sharp intake of breath and flustered denial should have been enough of an answer for him.

  It wasn’t, and Shane was more than prepared to see exactly how deep—or not—her feelings for him ran.

  Chapter Four

  Most women who owned SUVs did so because they had a pack of children to tote around. That was true for Cassidy and her friend Tatum. Cassidy didn’t understand why her sister drove one. Liberty had always struck her as the consummate cowgirl, more comfortable behind the wheel of a pickup truck than anything else.

  Yet, here they were, Cassidy, Liberty and their mother, heading into Mesa for a girls’ afternoon, riding in style—not—in her sister’s SUV. The vehicle was a mess. But instead of toys scattered across the floor of the back seat, there were a pair of old boots, a hoof pick, a bridle with a broken buckle, a spray bottle of mane detangler, bride magazines and an assortment of loose CDs.

  The empty snack food wrappers, however, were the same as the ones in Cassidy’s car. Literally, the same. Apparently, Liberty subscribed to a similar on-the-go diet as Benjie.

  Cassidy rolled her eyes from her seat in the back. In the front, her mother and sister chatted nonstop about Liberty’s wedding plans. They paid little attention to Cassidy, as long as she interjected the occasional comment about flowers or menu selections or veil versus no veil.

  The wedding wasn’t until the end of August—a date had finally been set—but, according to her mother and sister, the list of things to do in preparation was endless and required an eight-month head start.

  In an attempt to chip away at the list, the three of them had taken off in the middle of what promised to be a slow day at the arena for some dress shopping and, if time allowed, a visit to the wedding supply store.

  “Just to check out a few things,” Liberty had said.

  Right, Cassidy thought. Define “few.”

  Her father, brother and Tatum had volunteered to hold down the fort in their absence. Cassidy had wanted to stay behind, too, but her sister and mother wouldn’t hear of it.

  She relented after they agreed to include a stop at the party goods store. Benjie was turning six this coming weekend, and Cassidy was planning a party. Tatum’s three kids and a half-dozen friends from school were coming. Benjie was beside himself with excitement.

  “We’re here,” Liberty sang out, turning the SUV into the shopping center parking lot.

  Cassidy tried to convince herself the sudden rush of nerves she suffered had nothing to do with wedding dress shopping and everything to do with the car that had swerved past them a little too close for comfort. Weddings in general made her uncomfortable. Perhaps because they all too often led to divorce.

  They found a parking space right in front of Your-Special-Day.

  “Kind of a silly name for a wedding shop.” Cassidy slammed shut her door.

  “You remember Valerie Kirkshaw’s wedding last year?” Liberty marched ahead, speaking over her shoulder. “She bought her dress here. On sale. She swears this is the place to go.”

  Cassidy did remember the wedding and the dress. Both had been nice.

  “She also said they have a huge selection of bridesmaid’s dresses.”

  “Great.” Cassidy mustered a smile as they entered the small, tastefully appointed shop. She might not be in the spirit of things, like her mother and sister, but neither would she ruin the day for them.

  Thirty minutes sped by surprisingly fast. Liberty stood on a podium in the rear of the store, surrounded by mirrors and wearing her fourth dress. And, for the fourth time, Cassidy gawked in astonishment.

  Her cowgirl sister, it seemed, had a penchant for very frilly, very fluffy, very girly wedding dresses, each one more stunning than the last.

  Cassidy’s mother circled Liberty, alternating between plucking at the voluminous folds and wiping away another tear. “You look beautiful, honey.”

  Indeed, she did. Cassidy’s throat closed with emotion. She’d stopped dreaming of weddings years ago. On the day she’d walked away from Hoyt moments before telling him he was going to be a father. Then and there, she’d decided to dedicate her life to the baby growing inside her.

 
It wasn’t as if guys ignored her. She’d been asked out, now and again. Usually by cowboys attending the rodeos. Less the last couple of years. She supposed, at thirty-five, she appealed less and less to the competitors, who seemed to be getting younger and younger each year. Perhaps her reputation for being standoffish preceded her.

  She and Shane were nearly the same age, and he didn’t think she was past her prime or standoffish. Not if the way his arms had tightened around her waist or the heat flared in his eyes were any indication.

  That was new, she thought. He’d never looked at her like that before. If he had, they might have dated more than a few weeks. Then what?

  “Cassidy. Your phone.”

  “Oh, yeah.” At her mother’s reminder, Cassidy roused herself and activated her phone’s camera. It was her job to take a photo of each dress so Liberty could scrutinize them later. “Smile.”

  She snapped a picture, checking it to make sure it was in focus before taking a second and third from different angles.

  Four more dresses were selected and tried on with the store clerk’s help and guidance. Cassidy added notes to each picture, including pertinent details such as price and potential alterations.

  “What do you have for bridesmaid dresses in pink?” Liberty asked, running her hand over the plastic garment cover of her favorite-thus-far dress.

  “Pink!” Cassidy gasped, imagining the horrors ahead of her. “You said nothing about pink.”

  “It’s a summer wedding. And the groomsmen are wearing dove grey tuxes.”

  “But pink?” Who was this woman impersonating her sister and where had she hidden Liberty?

  “Weren’t you listening in the car on the way over?”

  No, she hadn’t been.

  “Might I suggest a pale rose instead?” the clerk said. “It’s perfect for August.”

  Rose had a better ring to it than pink.

  The clerk showed them to the racks holding bridesmaid dresses, arranged by style and color.

  “Oh, look at this one.” Her mother held up a tea-length creation trimmed with a delicate lace.

  Liberty rushed forward. “I love it!”

  Cassidy let out an expansive sigh.

  While Liberty waited, seated on a velveteen upholstered chair with a seashell-shaped back, the clerk fawned over her. Cassidy and her mother ventured into the dressing room, six rose-colored dresses held high so as not to drag on the floor.

  Sliding into the first one, Cassidy waited for her mother to zip her up. When that didn’t happen, she asked, “Something stuck?”

  “No.” Her mother sniffed.

  Cassidy turned around, holding the narrow straps of the dress to keep them from falling. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  “I’m fine. Just a bit emotional.” Her mother’s smile wobbled. “It’s a big deal when your daughter marries.”

  Cassidy supposed it was. Feeling a little emotional herself, she patted her mother’s arm. “Hang in there, Mom.”

  “I thought you’d be the first.”

  Cassidy managed an awkward shrug, the dress still gaping in the back. “Hoyt and I never discussed the M word.”

  “You ever think what might have happened if you’d tracked him down sooner? Before he met his wife.”

  “Sure. In the beginning. But I doubt I would have married him.”

  “Because he liked to drink?”

  “Drink and drive. Let’s not forget that.”

  Growing up with an alcoholic father—former alcoholic, the rest of her family was quick to point out—Cassidy had little tolerance for people who imbibed to excess. She particularly had no tolerance for people who then got behind the wheel of a vehicle, as her father had the night he drove his truck into the well house with Cassidy in the front passenger seat.

  Finally, her mother zipped up the dress, enclosing Cassidy inside layers upon layers of rose taffeta. “Shane doesn’t drink.”

  “And why should that matter to me?”

  “I’ve seen him watching you.”

  Cassidy tugged on the sides of the dress, adjusting the fit. “He’s just curious is all. I did once date his brother.”

  “More than date him. You two had a ch—”

  “Mom, not here,” Cassidy said in a terse whisper.

  “It could explain Shane’s curiosity.”

  “You think he suspects?” Breathing became difficult. The dress’s snug bodice could be responsible. More likely it was her constant anxiety.

  “Or he likes you. In that way.”

  Cassidy’s anxiety increased.

  She stared at herself in the mirror, not quite seeing her reflection. What bothered her most wasn’t that Shane might like her. It was that she might like him back. Yes, in that way.

  Liberty hailed them from the dressing room entrance. “What’s taking so long, you two?”

  “Be right there.” Cassidy’s mother pushed open the double swinging doors after giving Cassidy a final inspection. “You’re stunning. No one could blame Shane.”

  Cassidy walked out to show her sister, a slight unsteadiness to her legs. She’d hardly reached the podium when her sister snapped a picture with her phone.

  No decisions were made. Liberty wanted to visit another shop or two first. Cassidy was admittedly relieved and glad when they pulled into the arena driveway two hours later. She alone had packages to unload, having made a haul for Benjie’s birthday at the party supply store.

  Leaving the bags on the kitchen table, she headed straight for the arena. School had let out thirty minutes ago, and the students participating in the afternoon riding program would arrive any second. While Liberty was in charge, Cassidy frequently helped with the advanced students.

  Doc Worthington’s familiar truck was parked near the bull pens. He, her father and Shane emerged from behind the chutes. Cassidy’s route forced her to either meet up with them or make an obvious and rude detour. Reluctantly, she chose the former.

  “Good news.” Her father beamed. “Doc here thinks Wasabi’s coming along and will be ready to compete in the Jamboree next weekend.”

  Feeling the intensity of Shane’s gaze on her, she struggled to remain focused on her father. “That is good news.”

  “Shane’s done a right fine job.” Doc Worthington’s low laugh sounded like an engine rumbling to life on a cold morning. “Who’d’ve guessed. Massage therapy on a bull. What’ll they think of next?”

  “Don’t know until you try.” Shane’s tone and smile were both humble. And endearing.

  Cassidy was undeniably affected.

  Spying several cars pulling into the parking area, she said, “Excuse me. I have a class to teach.”

  Before she managed a single step, Benjie charged out from behind a parked horse trailer, legs churning and arms swinging.

  “Mom! Mom!” He stopped in front of her, red-faced and short of breath. “Did you get the invitations?”

  “Yes, sweetie, they’re on the kitchen table.”

  “It’s my birthday on Friday,” he announced to the group. “But we’re having the party Saturday. So more kids can come.”

  Doc Worthington gave him a pat on his head. “How old will you be?”

  “Six.”

  “Six, huh?” Shane said. “I thought you might be seven. Seeing as how big you are.”

  Benjie puffed up, adding an extra inch to his height. “I’m the third oldest in my class.”

  Cassidy fought the surge of panic building inside her. This was exactly the reason she hadn’t mentioned Benjie’s birthday to Shane earlier. If he bothered to count backward, he might realize she and his brother had been dating at the time she’d gotten pregnant. Though it had been in the last days of their relationship. Right before their big fight. She hadn’t noticed her missed p
eriod until three weeks after their breakup.

  Did guys think about things like when conception occurred? She risked a quick peek at Shane from beneath lowered lids. He didn’t appear to be counting backward in his head. Rather, he was smiling pleasantly as Benjie rambled on about the party.

  “We’re gonna have pony rides and birthday cake and a piñata.”

  “Sounds like a good time.”

  “Can Bria come?” Benjie asked.

  “I’ll see. Thanks for the invitation.” He turned to Cassidy. “If your mom doesn’t mind.”

  She could hardly say no. Nor would she. “Of course. Bria’s more than welcome.”

  Doc Worthington made a show of taking out his invoice pad and pen. “Hate to leave, but I’ve got another appointment.”

  Cassidy’s father got the hint. “Let me get you paid for today.”

  The two men beelined for the office.

  “Grandpa, can I come, too?” Benjie hurried after them, leaving Cassidy and Shane alone.

  She could have called her son back, but didn’t. When Shane moved closer, and the inevitable hum coursed through her, she reconsidered.

  “You don’t have to invite Bria,” he said. “I can give Benjie some excuse.”

  “Nonsense. I should have thought of inviting her myself.”

  “All right.” His mouth curved at the corners.

  To her chagrin, her defenses crumbled. He did have the sexiest smile she’d ever seen.

  “We accept.”

  We? She blinked at his use of the plural. What had she been thinking? Or not thinking. Naturally, he’d come with his daughter. At least to drop her off and pick her up. Only “we accept” sounded like he intended to stay for the duration of the party.

  “Great. I’ll, ah, have Benjie leave an invitation at the trailer with the details.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  Cassidy headed to the arena gate to meet her sister, acutely aware of Shane watching her every step of the way.

  “You okay?” Liberty asked, concern filling her eyes. “You look a little flushed.”

  Was that all? Her cheeks felt like they were on fire.