Luciano gently took Frankie by the elbow and guided her out onto the stage. The bright glare of the spotlights momentarily blinded her before her eyes adjusted and she looked out into a sea of rapt faces.
“Luciano, would you like to introduce who you have up here tonight?” the host asked.
“This is my Frankie, my girlfriend. The great Senhor Eduardo Cabrera, and his daughter and Frankie’s business partner, Gabriella, and my good friend and competitor, Joao Rojas,” Luciano said as he introduced them down the line.
The babble of conversation between the host and Luc swirled around Frankie, his magnetic personality out in full force as he had the crowd eating out of his hand. It was easy to see why they loved him. Frankie knew they only glimpsed a part of him, the bright, shiny Luciano, the champion.
She perceived all of him, the heart of the man, and knew she was the real winner. The glamorous Rodeo Queen came on stage to present the boxed winner’s presentation buckle, and everyone gathered in close for a photo. Before she was aware of it, they were walking off stage and headed to the bar to get a celebratory drink. She excused herself to head to the bathroom, and Gabi elected to accompany her.
“What a rush.” Gabi bounced on the balls of her feet, the adrenaline still coursing through her system. “It will be us up there one day soon.” Her face was serious. “I mean that, Frankie. I really believe we can do it.”
Frankie looked at her reflection in the mirror, seeing a slight blonde girl with a smattering of freckles across her nose. The girl looking back at her had a fire in her eyes that previously burned inside her, hidden away. She caught her friend’s eye in the mirror.
“I believe we can, too. But for now, I’m happy to go celebrate with my champion.”
The friends had to fight their way through the crowd to find the others. As they got closer, a slender brunette in a tight-fitting dress and a push-up bra draped herself over Luciano. A hot flash of anger sizzled through Frankie as the woman whispered in his ear. Luciano shrugged her off, taking a step away to create space between them.
“Gosh, some women have no shame,” Gabi muttered in disgust.
“Here, hold my drink,” ordered Frankie, stalking toward the pair.
“Christ, this should be interesting,” Gabi said, hurrying after her.
The buxom buckle bunny gave Frankie a sullen look as she approached, clearly recognizing her from the stage. She made a step to sidle closer to Luciano but was thwarted by him turning and presenting her with his back as he reached for Frankie.
Frankie gave him a tight smile as she stepped around him to his would-be suitor. She gave her a hard look, scrutinizing her from head to toe.
“Look, mate, but did you not hear him say up there”—Frankie gestured over her shoulder to the stage—“I am his Frankie, his girlfriend. He doesn’t have time for skanks like you, so rack off.” The skank in question gave a huff and strutted off, her nose in the air.
Luciano’s eyes glowed with approval, and her heart sung as he gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Well, my kitten has claws.”
“Someone had to take the trash out. And they all need to realize that you are mine and I don’t share.” She raised her chin defiantly, daring him to make fun of her.
He caught her in a bone-crushing hug, his solid warmth feeling like home. “I love you, my Querida.”
Chapter 22
Frankie’s eyes were agog at the press of humanity that flowed down the broad avenue of Cowboy Christmas. She was amazed at the variety of techniques the savvy shoppers employed. Some flitted from stall to stall like butterflies fluttering from one shopping flower to another, ever relentless in their quest for bargains. And others ambled about, ever consistent in their steady perusal of merchandise. Frankie couldn’t remember when she had last enjoyed people watching so much. There was something verging on magical about being one of the crowd.
The Black Angus setup had seen a considerable volume of people visiting their display as the public came to get an autograph and photo with whom many considered the likely soon-to-be-crowned world bull riding champion.
Luciano was his usual affable, charismatic self, enjoying the adoration shining at him. Frankie shifted a little in her seat beside him. Although she was technically there in her role as a sponsored rider, it was clear whom everyone wanted to see. She watched as a little cowgirl wove her way in and out of the crowd as she held tightly onto her father’s hand, her braids bouncing with each impatient step. The girl was on a mission and wasn’t letting anyone slow her pink cowboy boot strides down. It was with some surprise, Frankie realized, she was headed toward their table.
Assuming they would attach themselves to the end of Luciano’s rather lengthy queue, Frankie was astonished when the girl blithely skipped up to position herself in front of her.
“Hiya, how are you doing?” she greeted her small visitor.
“Ima doing fine,” she mumbled shyly as she looked up at Frankie through long black eyelashes.
“You’re all I’ve heard about since she found out you’d be here and now she is quiet as a clam.” Her father rested his hand fondly on his daughter’s head for a moment. “Would you like a photo with Frankie Smith?” he asked, smiling indulgently.
The little moppet nodded her head vigorously, her eyes shining bright. Luciano looked up from signing another autograph. “Looks like you have yourself a number one fan.”
The little girl smiled at him shyly. “My daddy thinks you’re a good bull wider, even if you aren’t fwom here.” Her father coughed uncomfortably, looking away embarrassedly.
Frankie laughed, looking at Luciano in amusement. “Well, is that so? Maybe we should all get a photo?” she suggested.
The little girl looked up at her father excitedly for approval. “That would be great, if these other people wouldn’t mind.” He glanced at the long line of waiting fans.
Luciano turned his megawatt smile up to full force. “I’m sure they won’t mind making a little girl happy.”
As they gathered for the photo, Frankie was caught by surprise at the little pang of longing she felt as she knelt and put her arms around the tiny cowgirl. Maybe one day she would have one of her own, one with dark laughing eyes. She looked at Luciano, wondering what their child would look like. He caught her speculative expression and sent her a questioning look in return, eyebrow raised. She smiled at him enigmatically before returning her attention to the little girl.
“Have you found anything that you like here?” she asked curiously.
Her father laughed. “Only if it was a buckskin mare called Delila. I took her to Need for Speed to see her cousin’s race, and she saw the two of you win. Since then, all she wants to do is ride like Frankie and Delila. It’s been a rough time for her.” His eyes clouded briefly. “So, I’m grateful that she has had you, so to speak.”
Frankie wondered at the pain in the man’s words. “Well, Delila is out in a paddock, and hopefully next year, she will have a little black or buckskin foal. Maybe you could help us come up with a name when it comes.”
The little girl’s expression became solemn as she gravely pondered her new responsibility. “Daddy will have to send you an email, ‘cwause I’m not allowed to.”
“I’m sure we can come up with something,” Frankie replied, just as seriously.
“Thank you very much,” the father said. “You’ve made her day.” He glanced down at his daughter. “Say goodbye now.”
The little cowgirl threw her arms around Frankie. “Bwye, Fwankie.”
Once again, a small pang twinged in Frankie’s heart. “Bye, sweetheart.”
The little girl took her father’s hand and, with a final wave, melted into the crowd. The tug of longing still strong, she looked to find Luciano watching her, his expression unreadable.
Luciano’s leg brushed against hers as the shuttlebus jostled them. Frankie rested her hand lightly on his thigh, marveling at the hard muscles she felt beneath his blue jeans.
“How are you
feeling?” she said.
In a few minutes, they would enter the Thomas and Mack Arena for the last time before someone would be crowned this year’s champion. The previous nine nights had flown by with Luciano consistently placing or winning. All he needed to do was finish in third place or better, and he would walk away with the gold buckle.
“Ready. Strangely calm but keyed up at the same time. Tonight could change everything.” He rested his large hand on hers.
“Luc, no matter what, I am proud of you.” Her eyes glowed with her love for him.
He smiled at her, the wrinkles she loved so much crinkling around his eyes. “I know, and I love you for that, but I will be disappointed in myself. I want this, Frankie. I want it so much I can almost taste it,” he said fiercely.
The bus pulled to a halt, the whoosh of the door filling Frankie with nerves as she realized that, for her man, everything hinged on the next few hours. She reached up and gently touched his shoulder.
“Ready?”
“More than you will ever know.” He stood calmly. As they walked down the steps of the bus, a sense of anticipation flowed from Luciano to her. There was nothing more for her to do but believe in him and be there for whatever the night would bring.
It was a moment slowed in time. The contorting bull, dust rising from his hooves as they pounded into the sand, the force vibrating through flesh, driven mad by the need to free himself from the spurring weight of the cowboy that sought to ride him. His sinuous hide, twisting about his muscular frame as both locked in a battle of wills to conquer the other. The cacophony of noise from the crowd faded away as Frankie leaned forward in her seat, her knuckles white as fingernails dug into denim-clad thighs, willing the clock to speed up. And then it was over, eight seconds flashing on the screen.
The crowd roared their approval as Gabi shrieked and jumped to her feet with Senhor Eduardo, hugging as they both celebrated. The crowd was jubilant, a deafening chorus of whooping and hollering, feet stamping and clapping. The excitement was palpable as it buzzed through the charged air.
Frankie let her breath out, watching as Luciano climbed to his feet. The bull was safely shunted out the gate as Joao and some other Brazilian riders rushed the arena, their national flags held aloft in jubilant hands. Luciano was hefted to their shoulders as they reveled in his achievement. He had done it. Luciano Navarro was the world champion.
The announcer finally made his way through the crush of madly celebrating Brazilians to Luciano. “Luciano Navarro, the world champion. How does it feel?”
“Amazing. This is something I have dreamed about since I was a little kid.”
“You have had a great year and are our very deserving gold buckle winner. Are there some folks you would like to thank?”
Luciano took the mic from the announcer, his countrymen growing respectfully quiet. “My sponsors, especially Black Angus, Bryce, the PBR for the events, my friends here.” He gestured to his countrymen. He was rewarded with a rousing cheer. “Eduardo, Joao. But there is someone else that all of this—all of this—I want to share with.” He looked into the crowd. “Frankie? Querida, where are you?” The crowd twisted in their seats as they sought to find the mysterious Frankie.
Gabi nudged Frankie to her feet. “I’m here,” she called, waving madly at him.
“Please, Frankie, come down here.” She stood, an expectant hush surrounding her, at odds with the packed stadium. Her footsteps seemed loud as she made her way down the central stairs, an official meeting her halfway and ushering her onto the sand. She felt dwarfed as she nervously approached Luciano on the podium, the odor of livestock and sweat filling her nose. Luciano turned and spoke to Joao before the two men clasped hands.
Frankie watched, as if through tunnel vision, as he leapt to the arena floor, broad chaps flaring as he landed. Frankie admired the grace in his economical movements. Playful shadows cast by the arena light danced about his feet as he rushed toward her, lifting her off the ground in a giant bear hug. The fabric of his shirt was still damp from his perspiration as it whispered softly against her cheek when she snuggled into him.
“Querida, when I was little, all I wanted to be was world champion. I have it, but it is nothing if I don’t have you to share it with. I love you, Frankie. I want to share everything I have, all that I am, with you.”
He sunk down to one knee and opened his hand to reveal a little velvet box he had concealed there. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, never taking his eyes from Frankie’s. He opened it to reveal the gorgeous solitaire diamond ring within.
“Frankie, my heart, my Querida, will you marry me?”
Luciano’s lovingly expectant face blurred in front of Frankie as tears shimmered in her eyes. She nodded as they cascaded down her face. “Yes, Luc, so much a yes, my love.”
He let out a holler and jumped to his feet, his gaze locked with hers. The stadium erupted wildly around them, but they only had eyes for each other. Luciano gently took her face in his hands and slowly lowered his head.
“I love you, Frankie.”
“I love you, too, Luc. Now, hurry up and kiss me,” she commanded, her heart fluttering in her chest as her cowboy’s lips finally met hers. Her cowboy, now and forever.
Epilogue
The makeup artist gave Frankie’s lips a final flourish of color before stepping back to admire her handiwork. “He will not be able to take his eyes off you,” she said.
Frankie got out of the makeup chair as her friends gathered round, a riot of giddy excitement as she held her kimono closed. “Well guys, I guess it’s time to get me gussied up in the dress.”
Deb walked over and reverently took the white dress down from its hanger and held it up, appraising the best strategy to get Frankie in it without causing havoc to hair, makeup, or destruction of delicate lace. She quirked her head to the side, chewing on her lip.
“I think if two of us hold it wide, you should be able to stand there in the dive position with your hands out and slip right in.”
With the help of Gabi on the other side and Megan giving helpful little tugs, the dress finally fell into place, its graceful lace overlay draping gently over Frankie’s body.
“Now it’s just lacing you in and we have safely completed the dressing procedure,” Deb declared before suddenly falling silent.
Frankie gave a concerned glance over her shoulder to find her friend chalky-faced and sweating. “Are you okay? I thought I was the one that was meant to be battling nerves today.”
Deb’s hand flew to her mouth and she gave an involuntary spasm. “Quick, move away from Frankie’s dress if you’re going to be sick,” commanded Gabi, giving Frankie’s hand a tug to move her safely away.
“I’m fine,” Deb said shakily. “Just a tummy bug or something.”
“Yeah, sure. That’s what all the knocked-up ladies say,” joked Megan.
Frankie watched as Deb’s chalky complexion became, if possible, even paler. “Maybe you should sit down for a bit and have a drink of water.”
She moved her veil and bouquet off a nearby sofa and Deb sunk gratefully down into its cushions, her eyes closed as she took deep breaths.
“Are you going to be okay? You look really crook.” Megan began fanning her with a cushion.
“I’ll be fine,” muttered Deb. “Just give me a moment. It’ll pass.”
“Well, this might take your mind off it a bit,” Gabi said. “I heard some gossip when I was at the petrol station.”
“‘Cause that’s where all the good goss comes from,” Megan said, giving her a wry look. “The servo.”
“The servo? It doesn’t matter. Anyway, apparently there’s a new farrier in town. He specializes in working medical cases with the vets,” Gabi said.
“Is the interesting part that he’s cute?” asked Deb without opening her eyes.
“Well, for your information, he is apparently easy on the eyes, but that’s not the interesting bit. He’s an Aussie, so I thought maybe you might
know him,” she continued on, undeterred.
“‘Cause Australia is such a small country after all,” Frankie retorted.
“Well, for what it’s worth, his name is Mitch. Mitch Eddison.”
“Oh my gosh, Mitch has moved here?” Megan looked wide-eyed at Frankie. “How do you feel about that?”
“Like she cares. Look at her. She’s standing here in her bloody wedding dress for Pete’s sake,” Deb said, a little more color in her cheeks.
Gabi looked around, slightly taken aback by the reaction the name she’d said had just caused. “So, you guys aren’t happy he’s here?”
“She’s right, mate. He’s just an old friend. It’s a bit of a surprise, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters today, except that I get to marry my Luciano.” Frankie felt the rightness of her words. “Now, help me with this veil, and let’s get this show on the road.”
Frankie stood beneath the wildflower-covered arch, a perfect match to her bouquet made up of the same flowers as the first bunch Luciano had ever given her. A whisper of a breeze caressed the back of her neck, her hair tickling the sensitive skin.
She looked down the flower-strewn aisle to where the cowboy that held her heart stood, proud and tall, his back to her. She marveled at the threads of emotion he had wrapped around her, binding her to him in a rich tapestry of love. Joao stood beside him, eyes wide at the sight of her standing there, and leaned forward to whisper into Luciano’s ear. He turned, his eyes glistening as he took in the vision before him. Their eyes met, and as the first strains of music filled the air, Frankie walked toward the man that held her heart.
Her cowgirl’s dream.
THE END
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