by Drake, Laura
There are other ways this rookie could use some help. “Hey, Buster, what are you doing after the bucking tonight?”
Katya read the blinking neon sign in front of the cinderblock building. Hick’s—the best country music in Chicago.
She smiled. Probably the only country music in Chicago. She had to give the town credit though; fans had packed the Allstate arena tonight. A distant rumble of panic echoed from the future. She pushed it to the back of her mind. This was her last weekend off from out-gate duty, and she intended to make the most of it.
Max held the heavy door open, took off his hat, and bowed. “Buster, we’re the luckiest hicks in Chicago, getting to escort these gorgeous ladies tonight.”
“True thing, sir.” Buster waited until the women walked past, then followed.
Just inside the door, a steely-eyed beefcake bouncer looked them over then zeroed in on Buster. “Gonna need to see some ID, sonny.”
The walls vibrated with bass. Katya could feel it through her new boots, a siren’s call to dance. Her toes tapped as the night’s potential fizzed through her.
“I’m nineteen.” Buster’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and even in the dim light she could see his flush.
The bouncer pulled a neon red wristband from a string on his belt. “Gimme your right hand.” He fastened it around Buster’s proffered wrist. “I hear you took that off, I’m coming after you. You got that?”
“Yessir.”
When Max pulled open the blacked-out glass door to the bar itself, a drum riff pressed against Katya’s chest. The only light in the room came from the small stage and the spots on the dance floor, leaving this end of the bar in shadows.
Katya couldn’t wipe off her smile, even if she wanted to. Bree’s present made her feel like a celebrity; a tailored long-sleeved Western blouse in light pink, a trailing pattern of dusky roses and taupe ribbons down the front, contrasting with the hot pink tank peeking from its undone snaps. She wore her concho belt, skinny legged jeans with pocket bling, and her newest purchase, narrow-toed chocolate brown cowgirl boots.
She’d seen them in the store and decided to try them on, only as research. After all, everyone at the events wore them; right down to the toddlers. But they fit her feet as if they were made for her, and they looked so good with the jeans. Besides, the arena dirt was ruining her work shoes.
The boots could be left behind when she shipped overseas.
She followed Bree, anticipation putting a little roll in her hips. Cam had been held up by his sponsors, but said he’d meet her here.
“Hey, Katya.” Tommy Seaver waved from a corner table.
“Magic Hands is in the building!” Jody raised a beer in a bleary salute. Apparently he’d gotten there early, and judging from the number of cans crowding the table, had been busy.
She smiled, waved, and kept going, eyes on the dance floor, the music’s tempo in her blood.
An hour later, Cam walked into the raucous bar. The danged appointment had taken forever. It was one part of the job he wasn’t going to miss. He felt like a trussed-up Thanksgiving turkey at a photo shoot. The fact that he had a woman call and invite him on a date made the delay worse. The fact that the woman was Katya made it excruciating.
He wove through the tables, tipping his chin in greeting to the riders sprinkled liberally through the crowd. His eye caught on a flash of pink on the dance floor. Katya two-stepped by, held in Buster’s one-armed embrace, the other lay Velcroed to his chest. When they turned, she ducked under his upheld arm. The crystals on her pocket flashed.
Like a dental pick on a bad tooth, irritation pricked the surface of his brain. When Katya had invited him out, Buster hadn’t been part of the picture Cam imagined.
“Cam. Over here.” Max waved from an empty table next to the dance floor.
Squeezing between tables, he fell into the chair opposite.
Max handed him a longneck. “This one has your name on it, and from the looks, it’s just in time.”
“Past time, thanks.” He took a deep swallow, watching Katya dance by. Cam allowed himself a leisurely stroll down those slim legs, to… boots? Katya, in boots? He smiled for the first time tonight. Progress! They’d win her over to the lifestyle yet.
He glanced around as the music seeped into his skin, loosening the tension in his shoulders and the muscles of his jaw. “Where’s your wife?”
Max pointed to the swirl of dancers. Bree was attempting to avoid being stepped on by Tuck.
“I’d watch that one. He’s slicker’n calf slobbers.” Cam took another pull on the bottle.
Max snorted. “I’m not worried about Tuck. All I have to do is threaten to call his wife and he comes to heel pretty quick.”
“Yeah, Nancy lets Tuck take his balls with him sometimes, but never on the road. She keeps ’em in a pretty box by the bed.”
Max laughed, drained his beer, and signaled a waitress for two more.
The music ended and the band took a break. The dancers wandered to the tables.
He and Max both stood as the ladies approached.
“You made it!” Bree hugged Cam’s neck, then walked to the other side of the table to sit with her husband.
“Hi.” Light dancing in her eyes, Katya strolled over, with a big smile that he hoped was for him.
Buster followed close on her heels.
Time I gave the kid a lay of the land. Cam snaked his arm around Katya’s waist and bent her over his arm. She went stiff and grabbed his neck for balance. With his kiss, he staked his claim. At least, that’s how it started.
When she relaxed into him, he forgot everything. Her mouth was sweet and he’d been craving sweet. Her weight in his arms felt just right; he’d missed her. When quiet intruded in their self-contained bubble, he ended the kiss reluctantly. He set her on her feet, and he looked at the blank faces around them. “Sheeit, you never saw a man kiss a lady before?”
The riders stomped the floor, shouting encouragement. Cam smiled, waved them off, and pulled out a chair for Katya, who flushed prettily and dropped into it.
Buster settled in a chair next to Max, looking like a motherless calf.
Cam sat. “I’m buying the next round. Looks like I’ve got some catching up to do.”
Katya took a sip of what looked like a cola. “So, Max, how’s my buddy, Beetle Bailey doing?”
Max leaned his chair back on two legs. “You know, you’ve created a monster. We passed a day spa on the way into town, and Bailey was trying to get me to turn in.”
Cam stared at Katya. “You’re doing massages on the bulls?”
Buster leaned in. “That’s not fair. That gives them an advantage, and they already outweigh us by a ton.”
Katya held up a hand. “Settle down, I’m on your side. That was a onetime thing.”
Is there anything this girl can’t do? He let the conversation flow around him, and took her in. God, she looked good. He leaned close, touched the material of her collar, and whispered, “This is pretty.”
The corners of her mouth curled. “Isn’t it? Bree bought it for me.”
“I love your footwear.”
She flipped her jet black curls behind her shoulder. “My old shoes are perfectly fine, but the arena is hard on them.”
He saw her swallow and caught a flash of hunted rabbit in her eyes. She had to be worrying about next weekend. It made him want to give her something to take her mind off it, like a star, or maybe the moon.
You’ve got it bad, Hoss.
To distract his thoughts from turning down that road, he asked her to dance.
They’d just settled in to Lee Roy Parnell’s “We All Get Lucky Sometimes,” when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Tuck stood there with his face hanging out. “Come on, Cahill, let me cut in.”
Cam would have ignored him and kept moving, but Katya slipped from his arms.
She took Tuck’s hand. “I’m game, but stay off the boots, okay?”
They swung away and Cam w
as left standing alone in the middle of a dance floor full of couples. He wandered to the table.
“Lose your girl?” Max winked at Cam. “Don’t worry. I just bribed the band to play a hot, line-dance tune. You know the women love to dance that together… and we get a ringside seat.”
Cam fell into the chair and finished off his beer. “That’s some consolation.”
By the time the band quit for the night, he’d managed only one uninterrupted dance with Katya. She seemed a magnet for every lonesome bull rider on the circuit. She said goodnight to her latest partner and strolled back to the table.
He stood. Ya’ll eat your hearts out. I’m taking her home.
Bree lifted her purse from the back of the chair. “Well, we’ve got bulls to check on yet.”
Max stood and settled his hat on his head. “Cam, I hope you don’t draw one of our bulls. I’d like to root for you.”
Buster said, “I’d be honored to draw Bailey.”
Max cocked his head. “You’re not riding tomorrow.”
Buster stood tall, and pushed out his chest. “If Doc Cody clears me, I sure am.”
Max looked skeptical. Cam took Katya’s elbow as she stood. “The kid’s dreaming, Max.”
“I’ll be on somebody’s bull tomorrow night. You’ll see.” Buster shuffled away, shoulders rounded, eyes down.
Glaring at Cam, Katya snatched her elbow away. “Dang it, Cam, why do you have to poke at him?”
“Poke? Who’s poking? I’m stating fact.”
“This is a good time for us to leave, hon.” Bree slung her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Max tipped his hat to Katya and they walked away.
Katya was still glaring at Cam. “What?”
“Can’t you see that he looks up to you? You could help him. Since you’re retiring, he’s no threat to you.” She snatched her purse, turned, and walked away.
Dammit, this wasn’t how he wanted the evening to end. He grabbed his hat and hustled, touching the small of her back before she opened the door. “Katya, wait.”
“Cam Cahill, if you weren’t such a stubborn mule, you’d see that your next career is smacking you in the head.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve been watching. The young riders are all like Buster; kind of lost, and looking for advice. You have a wealth of knowledge to pass on as a bull riding coach. You just think on that. I’m giving Buster a ride to the hotel. See you tomorrow.” She turned her back on him and stalked out of the door.
The last thing he saw was a flash of crystaled pockets.
Well, hell. Rather than witness the indignity of Buster getting into Katya’s rental car, he about-faced and headed for the bar.
Settling in the darkest corner, he slumped on a bar stool and ordered a shot.
He appreciated that Katya was concerned about his next career, but a job babysitting snot-nosed newbies?
He’d rather trail bovine butt all over his and Tuck’s ranch. Or shuck his pride and go home and wedge into his family’s pecking order.
But he didn’t want to do that either. He tossed back the tiny glassful of whiskey, wincing when it hit his stomach. He signaled the bartender for another.
Might as well admit it, he was jealous of Buster. Not his obvious puppy crush on Katya. Cam envied his young, unbroken body. His lightning reflexes. And most of all, Cam coveted the years of bull riding the kid had ahead of him.
God, what he’d give for one more season.
He rolled his shoulder. It hurt, even with whiskey lubricant. There wasn’t another season in that joint.
If he couldn’t ride, wouldn’t teaching be the next best thing? He didn’t think so, but he’d roll the idea around for a while, and see how it felt. Thinking didn’t cost anything.
CHAPTER
21
Before dawn the next morning, Katya walked into the arena to find Buster had arrived first. With his bright red hair and baseball cap, he looked like a really tall Little Leaguer. “You ready to work, cowboy?”
His grin reinforced the image. “Doc Cody says I can ride for sure next weekend.”
“That’s great news!” She dropped her backpack full of hand weights in the dirt, and tipped a chin at his anchored arm. “Not with that hand, I assume.”
“Nope, my other one. Doc has a brace I can use that will let me raise my free arm, but only to shoulder height, so it won’t pop out of the socket.”
To hide her wince, she bent to set up the groin pulley.
“At least it won’t slow my getaway like a leg injury would.”
She shuddered, remembering his wreck. “Here.” When she held the noose out, Buster stepped into it, and she inserted a towel to avoid rope burns. “Okay, you know the drill. Twenty reps.” She stepped back to watch his form.
Holding one arm out for balance, he began.
These bull riders led such a crazy life. She still didn’t understand it, but she was starting to see why it drew young men: the physicality, the challenge, the lifestyle.
“What is it that you hope to get out of bull riding?”
“A gold buckle.” He grunted.
“I figured as much.” She crossed her arms over her chest, counting reps in her head. “Is that all?”
First set complete, he caught his breath. “What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s say you’re lucky enough to stay in one piece long enough to get that buckle. What happens after that?”
“I go get another.” He grunted, his lips pulling back from his teeth.
“You’re twisting. Keep your core tight.”
“No one’s ever won the World Championship more than twice in a row.” He huffed and started his next set. “God willing, I plan to.”
She shook her head. “You mean that all you want from life are a few belt buckles?”
Dots of sweat darkened his shirt. “Not hardly.” The bucket thumped at the end of the set.
He leaned over, hands on his knees. “Are you kidding? I’ve got a full life planned. My parents and I talked about it.” He pulled the rope off his ankle. “If I have a long career, by the end, they’ll be ready to retire and turn the farm over to me. I plan to start a breeding program for bucking bulls.”
“Sounds like a nice life.” She handed him a resistance band of the right length. “Bicep curls next.”
He sat on a hay bale, stepped on the band, put his elbow on his knee, and pulled his fist to his shoulder.
“And I’m going to have a family with lots of kids.”
She counted reps on her fingers. “Any special girl in mind?”
He finished the first set and let his forearm rest on his knee. “Not yet. But I’m sure I’ll meet her when the time is right.”
Ah, the optimism of youth.
Cam as a young man must have been like Buster, fresh off the farm, dazzled by the big leagues. This was what he was looking for when Candi reeled him in. Even when he found out she’d lied, he wanted that dream badly enough to forgive her and try to go on. Katya’s heart pinched for that unsophisticated, unsuspecting, big-hearted young man. She rubbed the ache in her chest and her dog tags clinked.
That ache burrowed down, closer to the bone. Her future was seven thousand miles from here. And she had no illusions that Mr. Right was waiting for her, but she was glad she’d told Cam her plans. She couldn’t have lived with herself, being just another woman who misled him.
Besides, he’s a mature adult now. She bent and dumped the weights out of her backpack. He knew how to shield his heart so he wouldn’t get hurt with this relationship, whatever it was.
“That sounds like a great life, Buster. I’ll be rooting for you.” She untangled the harness she’d rigged for tire-dragging. “You just stay away from those buckle bunnies, okay? I hear they can be lethal.”
Cam’s stomach growled like distant thunder. The Sunday event was always early, which meant he didn’t get lunch. And his whiskey-singed stomach had rebelled at the thought of breakfast. He dropped his gear bag an
d sat on the bench in front of a locker.
Tucker walked in, equipment bag over his shoulder. “Where’d you go last night? I looked up and you were gone.”
Cam grunted, and opened the metal door.
“So, you and Magic Hands…” Tuck dropped onto the bench next to him.
“I’m not talking about that here. If you want to talk later, fine.” He muttered, focused on stuffing his bag into the locker, so he wouldn’t have to see his partner’s face.
“Oh.”
When he didn’t say more, Cam had to look up.
Tuck’s bushy brows pulled together. Cam had known those eyes for fifteen years. They missed nothing. “You sure you know what you’re doing, Cam?”
His friend’s concern came from experience. Tuck had been the one to help him get back in his right mind, after the Candi tornado. He’d stood by while Cam got on countless practice bulls, coaching him. They only talked about bull riding, but Cam felt his friend’s silent, solid support at his back.
Cam pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it in the locker. “The only thing I know is bull riding, partner.” He stood. “But I realized last night that I may not be too old to learn something new.”
He was referring to Katya, not his future career. In his mind, they both fell in the “new stuff” category. He patted Tuck’s shoulder to show he appreciated his worry, turned and strode through the door to the treatment room. He’d cooled his heels at the hotel until he couldn’t wait any longer to see her, even if she was working.
She stood beside the treatment table in jeans, a rainbow-colored Gypsy blouse, and her new cowgirl boots, wiping her hands on a towel. Jory Hancock lounged on the table, one leg cocked. She said something and the cowboys in line cracked up. Even Doc Cody smiled.
“And you should have seen his face when he realized it wasn’t a live grenade!”
They laughed again.
Doc Cody said, “Make room, Jory, rank has its privileges. Older guys get seniority.”
