Sweet on You (Sweet on a Cowboy)

by Drake, Laura

  The cameramen ran into the arena, recording Cam grinning ear to ear as he hopped from the fence. The picture was broadcast on the JumboTron, twenty feet high over the center of the arena. Tuck tossed Cam his hat, and he slapped it on his head. “Whooo!” He stabbed a finger at the camera, “That bull bucked, y’all!”

  JB Denny’s voice overrode the din. “Ladies and gentlemen, judges score that a ninety-two-and-a-half-point ride!”

  The arena vibrated with the crowd’s noise. Cam jogged to the out gate and she scrambled to open it. He turned, tipped his hat to the crowd, then spun and ran out of the arena, cameras following.

  Katya stood grinning like a fool. Cam looked like a kid at the county fair, amped up on roller coasters and sugar. Confetti shot from a pipe next to the gate, and fluttered down around them. Red-faced and grinning, Cam snatched her up and spun her in a circle. Joy sparkled up to explode in her head. She threw her head back and laughed. All the while the cameras rolled.

  When he put her down, Tuck ran in and pounded him on the back. “Damn, Grandpa, I didn’t know you still had it in you!” The camera lights doused and the men trotted off to position themselves for the next ride. Tuck and Cam climbed the catwalk stairs to watch.

  Katya closed and latched the gate, smiling and picking confetti out of her curls. Cam’s happiness sang through her—she felt she’d burst from it.

  So this is how they feel when they ride.

  The announcer’s deep voice quieted the crowd. “Next up is Tommy Seaver. He’s drawn Bone Dancer, the leader in the bull of the year standings. Tommy’s going to have his hands full, during the ride and after. This bull works at living up to his name.”

  Happiness leaked like water out of the soles of her boots. The worry that replaced it was viscous; it coated her insides and wadded in her throat.

  A huge brindled bull with wicked long horns burst into the arena, the helmeted rider tied to his back. The animal took a long jump forward, sitting Tommy back on his pockets. It reared and leapt into the air, coming down almost vertical, jerking Tommy forward. When Bone Dancer came up for its next jump, Tommy’s face slammed between the horns. The bull tossed his head, throwing the rider off.

  The metal slat bit into her palm. Tommy was out cold. She let go and snatched the trauma kit. The kid landed with a thud in the arena, his body flopping like a discarded rag doll.

  One bullfighter stood over the rider, protecting him, while the others engaged the animal long enough for the safety roper on horseback to get a noose over his head and drag Bone Dancer out of the arena.

  She shot the bolt on the gate and ran. Doc Cody leapt the stairs and followed on her heels. The crowd was so hushed she heard her heart knock in her chest. She couldn’t get a deep breath.

  Focus. Focus on the rider.

  By the time they got to Tommy, he was moving. Doc Cody knelt next to him and Katya leaned over, hands on knees, trying to get air past the blockage in her throat.

  Apparently Tommy came to enough to realize he was in the arena, but not enough to know that the bull had left. He scrambled to get up.

  Doc Cody pressed Tommy’s shoulders back to the dirt. “You’re fine. Just relax.” His voice was like long summer days, slow and calm. “Where are you, son?”

  “Anaheim.”

  “You dizzy? Your neck hurt?”

  The kid moved his head left a bit, then right. “Nope.”

  “Okay, let’s see if we can get you up.”

  Katya took one arm. Her chest hitched, but she could only take tiny fluttering breaths. Black spots swirled in her vision. They pulled Tommy upright, and after a few seconds, he stood unaided and pulled off his helmet.

  The crowd clapped. Tommy smiled and waved to them.

  Her lungs unlocked, and she took a huge gulp of air. The black spots retreated. She took another.

  Holding Tommy’s elbow, Doc Cody scanned her with a “fitness for duty” look. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Let’s get him out of here.”

  They led Tommy to the open gate, one on each elbow just in case. The crowd cheered.

  I made it. She took another deep breath. Barely, but I made it.

  There had been no blood. No major trauma. Thank God Tommy wore a helmet and had gotten up quickly. She had no illusions that she was fit for duty.

  Still for now, she’d take her blessings where she found them.

  CHAPTER

  24

  The wheels of Katya’s suitcase wobbled over the floor of John Wayne Airport. One wheel rolled straight, the other wanted to go to the parking lot. Maybe the crooked one was right. “You’re sure it’s okay with your family that I barge in on your visit?”

  “They can’t wait to meet you.” Cam’s boots clicked on the marble.

  She lengthened her stride to keep up, suitcase shimmying behind. Today’s nerve-singeing event had been enough to handle for one day, but the day’s end was nowhere in sight. The thought of being inhaled into a flying tube made her want to run for the rental car counter. Cam hadn’t wanted to waste a minute of the two weeks driving to Colorado, so she’d agreed. She didn’t want to be more trouble. She’d be a cuckoo in his family’s sparrow’s nest as it was.

  At the end of the flight, she’d be meeting his parents. It wouldn’t be a “Meet the Parents,” but still, she wanted to make a good impression. The morning had begun at five a.m., and they’d be arriving in Colorado at ten p.m. She hadn’t even gotten on the plane, and she already felt used up, wrinkled, and wrung out.

  It would be better for him to spend some time alone with his family. I’ll rent a car, and…

  And what? Drive to Washington and spend the remainder of the two weeks with her parents? The only bright spot on that trip would be if Trace had a few hours for her. Between the awkward silences and too much time to think, she’d be nuts in one week, much less two.

  What if they didn’t like her? What if—

  “Here’s our gate.” Still pumped from his win, Cam looked like a kid on his way to Disneyland. He lowered himself to perch on the edge of a seat.

  She did a controlled flop into the one next to him.

  “Today felt so good; like it used to. If this old body holds up, maybe I can go out on my terms, and win the finals this year.” He glanced over. “What’s wrong?”

  Bad enough he’d seen her meltdown the other night. She was darned if she was admitting to claustrophobia. She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

  He slipped an arm around the back of her chair. “You’ll be able to sleep on the plane.”

  Yeah, like that’s going to happen.

  She woke when Cam’s shoulder slid out from under her head. “The pilot just started his approach for landing.”

  She snapped upright in her seat, checking to be sure she hadn’t drooled on him. When they’d boarded she’d kept her eyes on the aisle carpet, to remain unaware of how close the walls were. Cam’s chattering about home had distracted her. Then they’d had a drink to toast his win. She didn’t remember much after that. But it wasn’t the munchkin-sized drink that had relaxed her to sleep. It was Cam’s solid presence at her side. She had no illusions that he could magically keep the plane in the air, or the walls from closing in, yet those things didn’t seem to matter so much when he was beside her.

  When they stepped off the Jetway, her nerves checked in, picking up right where they left off. She ran a hand over her hair. “Ugh. I’ve got to try to do something with this mop.” And apply some makeup, and brush my teeth, and—“ I’ll be right back.” She ducked into the bathroom for some serious mirror time.

  Five minutes later, she walked out, feeling marginally human.

  Cam pushed away from the wall. He looked like he’d eaten a lemon sandwich.

  “What is it?”

  “Um. My parents are—” She caught a quick glimpse of his blush before he ducked his head and his hat blocked it. “Old-fashioned, and, well, they’re not real open to… unmarried people sleep
ing together.”

  He looked so torn, she had to chew her lip not to smile. “I guessed that much.” She walked on, saying over her shoulder, “It’s better anyway. You’re so loud in bed that I couldn’t show my face at the breakfast table.”

  He only grinned and grabbed the handles of their suitcases. “You ready?”

  Straightening, she took a deep breath, then nodded, and they walked on.

  She needn’t have worried about not recognizing his family; a blond girl in a letterman’s jacket held a sign over her head: “Welcome to Colorado, Katya!” Complete with big hearts and red lips. The girl was flanked by a small crowd of people. Katya stopped dead.

  Cam waved. “There they are!” His hand at the small of her back urged her forward.

  Put on your big girl panties, Smith. She swallowed, pasted on a smile, and walked to the people who loved her cowboy.

  Cam was consumed by the group. Hugged, kissed, and back-slapped. Laughing, he pulled himself away and reclaimed her hand. “Everyone, this is Katya.”

  “Hi, Katya,” they chorused back.

  Her “hi” sounded so mousy she almost twitched her whiskers.

  “Okay, stand still, y’all, so I can introduce you.” He scrubbed the head of the girl with the sign, mussing her long blond hair. “This is the runt, Chrys.” She ducked from under his hand and punched him in the arm.

  Katya swallowed the worry that left her throat parched. “Thanks for the sign. I’m overwhelmed.” And she was. These people came over fifty miles, late at night, to greet Cam. And to meet her. She ran her hands over her full skirt to absorb the palm sweat, and put out her hand.

  The girl stepped forward and gave her a quick hug. “It’s the least I could do. You had to put up with PBR Confidential for the whole flight.”

  Cam moved on. “Next oldest is our bookworm, Cassie.” He pulled another blonde from the pack, this one with short hair and glasses. “Cassie got all the brains of the outfit. She’s majoring in microbiology at Colorado State.”

  The girl gave Katya a shy smile and shook her hand. “Hello.”

  He gestured to a slim blond woman in jeans, a sheepskin jacket, and a Stetson. A broad-shouldered man stood beside her, arm around her waist. His dark hair and eyes stood out among all the blondes. “This is my oldest sister, Carrie, and her husband, Dan. Aside from running a quarter horse training business, she’s our local matchmaker.”

  Dan tipped his hat with a smile, but Katya felt like a bug under the light of Carrie’s frank stare before she stepped forward to take Katya’s hand. “Welcome to Colorado.”

  Welcome maybe, but you’ll have to go some distance to win this one over.

  “And this,” Cam lifted a solid woman with short, steel gray hair off her feet, and spun her in a circle. “Is my mom.”

  “Cameron Cahill, you put me down this second.” The woman’s delighted smile overrode her sharp tone.

  With a last squeeze, Cam put her down. “Katya Smith, may I introduce you to my mother, Nellie Cahill.”

  Nellie stepped forward and took both Katya’s hands in hers. “Welcome, Katya. I’m so glad you came. Don’t worry. You won’t be a stranger long with this brood.”

  “And this is my dad, Roy.”

  He indicated a slightly stooped, bandy-legged man fingering the brim of a cowboy hat. Roy took only her fingers and shook them gently.

  Katya swallowed. “I’m so happy to meet you all. Thank you for allowing me to come.”

  Nellie beamed at her son. “Any friend of Cam is welcome to stay with us.”

  Roy said, “Well, it’s late, and y’all must be tuckered. Let’s head ’em up and move ’em out.” He waved his brood toward the revolving doors.

  The Cahills had driven in two vehicles. She and Cam rode with his parents and Cassie in a huge Suburban. Dan took the rest in the truck. Cam and his parents chatted, and Katya was grateful to fade into the background and get the lay of the land from their everyday conversation.

  An hour later, they drove into the yard of a large farmhouse ablaze with light. Cam handed her out of the car as the truck pulled up behind and disgorged passengers, everyone talking at once. He led her up the stairs to the covered porch that extended the length of the facade. Weathered wooden chairs, braided rugs, and pots of geraniums glowed in the yellow light spilling from the windows. A clutter of muddy footwear lay in a pile by the door.

  The rest of the family crowded through the doorway. Nellie held the door for them. “I know you must be tired, so we’ll save the tour for tomorrow. Cam, why don’t you put Katya in the sewing room, and you can sleep on the pull-out in the family room.”

  She stepped into a slate-covered foyer. Directly across from them a staircase angled up. To the left, through an arched doorway, she spied a formal dining room, and to the right a study. “I can take the couch—”

  “Don’t even suggest it. Mom would have my hide.” Cam picked up her suitcase, led her to the stairs, and climbed.

  At the top, he pointed out the bathroom on the right then led the way down a hall to the last door on the left. A narrow bed covered in a handmade quilt nestled under the window. A long table with a sewing machine took up the wall on the right. A table lamp with a prancing wrought-iron horse supplied the only light.

  “Here you go. This was my bedroom, growing up, though you wouldn’t know it to look at it now.” He caught her in a yawn and smiled. “Off to bed with you.” He stepped close and kissed her thoroughly before stepping back. “Sleep well. I’ll see you at breakfast.” He walked to the door, but then turned. “I really am glad you’re here, Katya.”

  Cam sat with Dan and his dad at the dining room table the next morning, nursing a cup of coffee, when Chrys clattered down the stairs, chattering the whole way. Katya followed, dressed in boots, jeans, and a Western shirt. It must have been a good night’s sleep. Her skin glowed, and the light was back in her eyes. Damn, she looked good. “Chrys, you’d better not be telling tales about me.”

  His sister dropped into the chair opposite him. “There you go, thinking you’re the center of the universe, again. See, Katya, what did I tell you?”

  “Good morning, everyone.” Katya came around the table to stand next to him. “May I help in the kitchen?”

  He stood to pull out her chair. His knee wobbled a bit. “You’re a guest. No way Mom would let you help.”

  Frowning at him, she sat. “That knee again. I’ll make you some tea tonight.”

  “Tea? Mr. Bad A—” Chrys shot a glance at her father. “Our Big Bad Bull Rider is drinking tea?”

  The swinging doors to the kitchen opened. Cassie, Carrie, and Nellie came in, carrying plates of food. The men stood.

  “Cam’s drinking tea?” Carrie put a heaping plate of scrambled eggs on the table and sat.

  Katya said, “It’s just a blend of herbs to help the pain and inflammation in his knee.”

  Cassie put a plate of hash browns in front of Cam and a plate of toast in front of Katya, then took the seat beside her. “Scientists have proven medicinal herb benefits down to a molecular level.”

  “Well, I bet the Chinese will be glad to hear that, squirt. They’ve been using them for thousands of years.” Cam held out the chair to his left for his mother, who placed a carafe of coffee in the center of the table and sat. “Katya also makes liniment specifically designed for each rider. They all swear by it.”

  Katya shot him a grateful look.

  Holding a plate of scrambled eggs, Nellie asked, “Where did you learn that, Katya?”

  “My grandmother taught me. She was my family’s healer.”

  Carrie cocked her head. “Are you Native American?”

  “I’m Romani. Gypsy.”

  Chrys’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Oh, that’s way cool. Do you tell fortunes?”

  Nellie passed the eggs to Katya. “Young lady, that is rude. And you know better.”

  When Katya passed the plate on, Nellie said, “All you’re having is toast?”

>   “Yes. I only have toast for breakfast.”

  “Oh.” She set the plate back on the table.

  Cam cleared his throat. “Dad, do you want Katya and me to go with you to pick up those parts for the tractor?” Maybe the inquisition would be easier for Katya if he could break it into pieces. He knew better than to think he could stop it entirely. He turned to Katya. “I’ll give you a tour of Fort Collins.”

  His dad reached for his coffee. “That’d be great. There’s something else I want to show you downtown.”

  “Oh, don’t take her!” Chrys whined. “I want to show her around the place. We have a new litter of barn kittens.”

  Do I dare leave her? Chrys may stick her foot in her mouth, but she was well-meaning. On the other hand, Chrys was a country girl, and loved the farm. She’d show it in the best light. He pointed a fork at his sister. “You just want to get her off to talk about clothes and boys. I know you.”

  Katya touched his arm. “I’ll be fine here. I want to see where you grew up and have some girl talk.” She winked at Chrys. “Hanging with cowboys is fun, but they just don’t get much about the important stuff like clothes and hairstyles.”

  Well, Chrys would be pretty safe. He’d never have left her alone with Carrie or his mom. His mother sat studying Katya like she was a jigsaw puzzle piece. And his mom loved jigsaws. “Okay, you girls have fun. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  Carrie, who’d eaten almost nothing, stood. “Speaking of pedicures, I’ve got a horse with a loose shoe. I’ve got to—”

  “I’ll do that.” Dan stood.

  “I’m perfectly capable of pounding a hoof nail.”

  “I know you are. And I’ll take care of it.” He shot his wife a long look.

  Nose in the air, she carried the dishes to the kitchen.

  Hope there’s no trouble there.

  Katya sat on a hay bale in the barn, watching Chrys groom her dark brown horse. She’d found Chrys to be open, full of questions, and so anxious to be an adult she could hardly stand it.