Rodeo King (Dustin Lovers Book 1)

by Chaffin, Char

  He’d finally given up and driven back to the Bronco Inn, stopping by the liquor store on the way. Damned if he’d eat his heart out any longer. Rosemary Carmichael more than lived up to her flaming red hair.

  Memories of those silken strands tangled in his fingers as he kissed her, held her, made his body go tight with desire and his heart ache with longing.

  Jesus, he missed her. Every tiny thing about her, including her temper.

  Caleb limped back to the table and dropped into his chair. Hanging his head, he rested his forearms on the edge of the table, his half-empty beer no longer holding any appeal. Getting shit-faced on suds wasn’t the answer, although a few days ago it’d seemed like a good idea. Which was why only eleven longneck bottles of amber remained in the fridge. He’d started with a case.

  He rubbed at both eyes, then winced. “Son of a bitch!” Cupping his hand over his right eye, Caleb probed carefully. He didn’t have to look in a mirror to know the damned thing was still swollen and probably colored a nice shade of purple. It throbbed like a mother, too. Mason Carmichael had a mean left hook. At least he hadn’t socked the same side of Caleb’s face, from the night he’d first hit town.

  They’d gotten into it last night outside of DeeDee’s, when Caleb stumbled through the doors just drunk enough to not give a damn, and demanded Mason tell him where Rosemary had gone. Two sore ribs and a black eye later, Caleb had staggered back to the motel and stocked up on ice, digging in his shaving kit for the ace bandage he’d used off and on as extra support for his ankle. After a shitty job of wrapping it around his ribs, he’d passed out half on and half off the bed.

  Today he felt every ache, each fist-pound Mason had delivered, not to mention residual pain on his bruised knuckles from the punches he’d somehow managed to land on his hardheaded ex-buddy. Mason might have done more damage, but Caleb had left him with plenty to think about, including a nose that was most likely broken.

  “Bastard deserved it,” he said aloud, studying his ruined knuckles. He rose and grabbed the longneck, dumping the rest of it down the sink in the kitchenette. No more beer. He’d take a shower and go out for a burger, maybe hit that diner outside of Hawthorn and clear his head.

  Except thinking about Hawthorn made him relive the hours leading up to the moment his life went to total shit. Groaning, Caleb sank back onto his chair and pushed his face in his palms, uncaring of the pain in his eye.

  What was he going to do?

  As if in response, his cell trilled. Thinking it might be Rosemary, Caleb grabbed for it.

  “Yeah, hello!”

  “Caleb Johnson? This is Lenny Folsom with the State Rodeo Commission. You spoke to one of my associates the other day. Bill Knowles.”

  He’d never felt less like talking rodeo in his entire life. “Yeah, that’s right. Nice to hear from you, Mr. Folsom—”

  “Oh, just call me Lenny. Listen, I understand you never gave Bill an answer about the job offer. It’s a choice one, for sure. And something my team thinks you’d be great at, what with your knowledge and experience. Pays great, too. Did Bill mention the salary?”

  Caleb rubbed his free hand over the back of his neck and tried to concentrate on something other than his mounting melancholy and images of Rosemary, naked and warm in his arms three mornings ago, before he lost everything that mattered to him. Which, he suddenly realized, did not encompass goddamn bull riding.

  “I must be nuts,” he mused softly.

  “Beg pardon?” The voice in his ear—Lenny something-or-other—sounded perplexed and a bit irritated. “Mr. Johnson, have you made a decision? We need your answer. The current announcer is leaving next week. Retiring to Las Vegas with the wife and a thirty-foot fifth wheel. We’d need you in Cheyenne for initial training. Start you right on the circuit full time during the season, then rotating between our corporate offices off-season. Lots of great travel. We could offer you a spot on the board as a junior member and keep you in the loop. Full bennies, too.” Lenny paused. Then added, “Mr. Johnson?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” Caleb thought furiously. If he took this job he’d have to be guaranteed Rosemary and Carson could travel with him when he hit the road. He’d request his local base to be Cheyenne, an easy drive from Dustin. “Listen, Lenny. Can I ask you something? I got a family here. They’d have to be included in my travel allowance, and—”

  “You? A family? Since when?” Lenny’s voice held amazement. “I remember you on the circuit, Johnson. You were a tomcat.”

  “Not any longer,” Caleb replied firmly. “I got a little boy. Five years old. And my girl’s going to marry me soon.” I hope and pray. “I have to do right by them and that includes not leaving them behind.”

  “Well, I don’t know, son.” Papers rattled in Caleb’s ear. Then Lenny sighed. “Let me see what I can do. But you gotta understand, it’s a big deal being offered a job like this. The Commission folks do want you but they make all the final decisions.”

  “I understand. And if I were a single guy I’d jump on it. But I can’t be the only one who’s got a family.”

  “Well, now, son, you might just be. You know how rodeo is. Damned few get themselves tied down.”

  Right about then, just as Caleb opened his mouth to refute Lenny Folsom’s opinion, his cell beeped in with call waiting. He pulled it from his ear and glanced at the display in time to see Rosemary’s number flash.

  Holy shit.

  “Mr. Folsom, I’ve got an urgent call to take.” Caleb disconnected before the man could utter a single squawk, and hit the button. “Rosie? Rosie!”

  A rapid beep sounded in his ear. She’d already hung up. “Damnfuck it!” His head ready to explode from the rush of emotion coursing through his body, he frantically pressed buttons. It went instantly to voicemail.

  Frustrated beyond belief, Caleb let out an angry yell, then whirled around and pitched the phone across the room. Breathing heavily, and not feeling one damn bit better, he watched it bounce off the wall and skitter across the thin-carpeted floor.

  ***

  Rosemary tucked her cell into her beach bag and stifled a sigh. Lifting her damp hair off her sweaty neck, she re-twisted the heavy curls and tightened the bright pink octopus clip that was supposed to secure the thick mass atop her head. When it flopped back over her shoulders, she yanked out what was left of the clip and stared at it. The spring mechanism was shot. “Ah, hell!” She tossed it aside.

  “Now what?” Susan peered over the top of her sunglasses inquiringly. She sat up and reached for the bottle of suntan lotion they’d been sharing. “Here, make yourself useful and load me up.”

  “Well, turn around.” As Susan presented her back, Rosemary slapped on lotion, rubbing it in with some of the aggression she was feeling, then rubbing harder when her best friend grumbled under her breath.

  “Hold still,” Rosemary snapped.

  “You’re taking off a layer of my freshly-tanned epidermis. Boy, you’re mean when you’re sex-deprived.” Susan grabbed the lotion out of Rosemary’s hand. “I’ll do it myself.”

  “I’m not sex-deprived,” she denied.

  Liar.

  “Pissed-off, then.” With a smug look, Susan finished coating one arm. “Or just generally pissy.” She waved the bottle toward the lake, shimmering under endless blue skies. Children shrieked in the distance; birds cawed above, and a light breeze took the edge off the summer heat. “It’s gorgeous here, Rosie. Carson’s having fun, you’re wearing my sexiest bikini, and at least twenty guys have eyeballed you, most with their tongues hanging out. Carpe Diem and all that.” She plopped on her stomach and stretched out, a sleek cat soaking up the afternoon rays. “So stop wallowing and enjoy.”

  “I’m not wallowing.” Abruptly Rosemary stood, brushing sand off her arms and legs. “You can carp their diem for both of us.”

  She didn’t want to be here. Even though she knew it was unfair to make Carson leave so soon, her heart wasn’t in it. Turning slightly, she assured herself that
her son still sat at the edge of the blanket with his trucks and sand pail.

  Slathered in the highest SPF sunscreen available, wearing his uncle’s ‘go to hell’ camo bush hat and bright green board shorts, Carson looked adorable. As always. He toyed with a plastic shovel, occasionally digging up sand and pouring it in his pail. He seemed to be having fun, and earlier she’d seen him splashing around with a few kids his age, but for the most part her boy was quiet. Too quiet. From the serious expression on his little face, she knew sooner or later he’d come out with it. And she’d bet money he’d start asking questions about his daddy.

  Trouble was, Rosemary had no answers for him . . . or for herself.

  She’d escaped town in a big, angry huff, refusing Caleb’s phone calls, ignoring the voicemail he’d left on her cell. In the more sensible part of her brain she knew her attitude smacked of unfairness, but she couldn’t help it. The man just scrambled her emotions. And all her insecurities had surged front and center as soon as he’d said ‘Rodeo Commission.’ Like waving a red flag before an enraged bull.

  I never gave him a chance to explain anything. Not her most shining moment. Not very mature, either. So she’d given him a call, only to discover he wasn’t answering his cell, and his voicemail wasn’t engaging. She couldn’t leave him a message. A hard lump formed in her throat along with a sense of déjà vu . . .

  Because six years ago she didn’t have a cell number for him, either. No way to let him know he was going to be a daddy. His folks had moved, their house sold to an elderly couple with a bunch of cats. Rosemary had no idea where the Johnsons had relocated.

  How helpless she’d felt, sitting on the bed in her room with her parents silent and furious downstairs. She’d rocked back and forth on the edge of the mattress with her cell phone in one hand, pressing against her still-flat stomach with the other. Tears, so thick she could barely breathe, had dripped everywhere as she tried to plan out the most uncertain future she’d ever had to face. Seeing for herself how miserable her mama was, married to a man who didn’t want to be tied down, Rosemary had made the decision to just let Caleb go.

  “Rosie?”

  She jerked out of her stupor. “Huh?”

  While she’d been standing there with bad memories churning, staring depressingly out at the lake, Susan had sidled up beside her, and held out a chilled bottle of water. “Here. Drink some. Then I think we should head back to the cottage.”

  They’d rented one of the lakeside cottages, snaring a summer weekend special. The tiny three-room cabin was rustic but at least had running water and some semblance of power, although they’d popped a breaker twice when Susan had forgotten to shut off the coffeemaker before blow-drying her hair.

  “I’m not thirsty.” But Rosemary took the water anyway and drank a few gulps, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Then gained Carson’s attention as he raised his head to look around. “Come get a drink, honey.”

  Obediently he rose to take the bottle. “Are we leaving yet, Mommy?”

  She ruffled his damp hair. “Are you ready to leave yet? We can stay a little longer before we go back to the cottage.”

  “No. I mean, are we going home yet?” His face was bright, touches of pink on his rounded cheeks despite all the sunscreen they’d used and the too-big hat shielding his face. He guzzled the rest of her water and then dug a chubby toe in the sand, a sweet little guy with something big on his mind. “I had lotsa fun, but I miss Daddy. I think he’s lonely. I think we should go home and be with him.”

  Sudden, harsh tears formed in Rosemary’s eyes as she looked from her son to Susan. He wanted his daddy. God, I want his daddy, too.

  “Susie-Q, I’m just so lost.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  Her best friend since grade school slipped her arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “He’s a pretty good man, Rosie. Most of the time,” she amended, tempering her words with a smile. “As much as I’d still like to just haul off and punch him for the crap he put you through, he’s a damned good father. Whatever the RC wants with him, I wouldn’t be surprised if Caleb’s plotting to figure out how to bring you and Carson along.” Susan offered another, tighter hug. “He’s gotten me really mad several times in the past, but I think now you owe it to Lil’ Tuff here to see what’s what.” She pulled the bush hat down to Carson’s nose and made him grin.

  While her son leaned against Susan’s legs and yawned, Rosemary took a few moments to deal with the jumble of uncertainty swirling in her head.

  Her brother persisted in painting Caleb as a bastard who wanted nothing more than an easy lay between rodeo hookups. Mason refused to see beyond his own anger. Despite the hurt Caleb’s desertion caused her from years ago, still difficult for her to release completely, Rosemary had to see this through. Trust never came easy for her but maybe it was high time she grew up a bit and tried harder. If he broke her heart a second time, so be it. She’d lived through it once, she could do it again.

  At least she had Carson. She glanced down at him, her heart filled with so much love that she ached with it. As long as she had her son, she could handle anything.

  With that decision made, she began collecting their beach gear, folding towels; sorting through toys and empty containers of soda pop and water. Offering Susan a grateful smile for her support, Rosemary quietly said, “Let’s go home, and see what’s what.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Where could he be? Rosemary rapped her knuckles on Caleb’s motel door again, then checked the painted number above the deadbolt. Fourteen. She definitely had the right room. Caleb had mentioned he was staying in Nash’s studio unit, and the man only had one.

  She was determined to have it out with Caleb once and for all. Was he staying or was he going? She had a right to know, damn it.

  When there was still no answer, she glanced around the area and worried her bottom lip. The sinking sensation in her stomach grew as a sense of fresh panic set in. Had he left? Already gone back to the rodeo? She shivered at the chill rolling over her, stark against the airless, muggy evening.

  Noticing a slit in the curtains, she peered inside and saw a perfectly made up room, with nothing lying around to indicate it was still occupied.

  Gone. Again.

  Tears threatened and she blinked them away. She wouldn’t cry again over a man who didn’t even care enough to say goodbye. Something she should be used to by now. Yet a fist squeezed her bruised heart.

  Turning from the window, she spotted DeeDee’s down the street and decided she needed a drink. After a final afternoon at the lake, Carson was spending the night with his uncle. Mason had promised to take him to the kid’s matinee in Hawthorn tomorrow, which was playing the new Disney movie, and he wouldn’t be home until late afternoon.

  Plenty of time to get shit-faced if I want to.

  Rosemary refused to spend the night alone wallowing in self-pity after being dumped again by that aggravating cowboy. Marching toward the bar entrance, she breathed deeply through her nose and tried to calm herself.

  She dug through her purse for her phone and punched in Susan’s number. “Hey, wanna meet me at DeeDee’s for a drink and a bite to eat?”

  “Sure,” her friend said. “When?”

  “Now.” Rosemary pushed through the doors, scoping out a seat at the bar. It was early yet, and the supper crowd was just straggling in. “I’ll order a pitcher of margaritas to get us started.” Her voice sounded strained, even to her own ears.

  “What’s happened, Rosie?”

  Her throat constricted as utter despair flooded her, then, shaking it off, she climbed onto the tall barstool. “I’ll tell you when you get here.” Her voice broke at the end.

  “I’m on my way. Feel free to start without me. Sounds like you need it.”

  She hadn’t even finished her first drink when Susan came flying through the door. She’d switched her shorts for a pair of tight jeans, but still wore the slinky summer top from the beach. Her hair was pulled back into a
ponytail and she had a pissed-off expression on her pretty face.

  Spotting Rosemary, she hurried over and took a seat next to her. As she poured herself a drink from the pitcher, she asked, “So, what’d Caleb do now?”

  “He left,” Rosemary said simply, sucking her drink dry through the colorful straw. She held out her glass for Susan to refill.

  Her friend froze for a moment. “You’re shitting me. Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Pretty sure.” Rosemary clenched her jaw. Her first drink had taken the sharp edge off her sorrow, but it was still hard to think about being deserted again. And this time around Caleb knew about his son, but he’d still left. That hurt the worst.

  Susan’s gaze narrowed as she proceeded to fill Rosemary’s margarita glass. “That dirty bastard,” she muttered.

  “Yep. That about sums it up. Doesn’t matter. I’m done.”

  Susan lifted her drink in a toast. “Good.”

  They clinked glasses. Rosemary loved margaritas, and DeeDee’s made the best, just the right hint of tequila exploding on her tongue. She’d skipped breakfast due to her nerves, and only munched on a handful of snacks during the day. Already feeling the effects of the alcohol, this would be her last one, at least until she got something in her stomach.

  Susan abruptly straightened and glanced around the bar. An amused grin spread across her face. “Hottie alert.” She nodded toward the pool tables. “Up for a game?” She wiggled her brows suggestively.

  Rosemary eyed the two men at the back of the bar, playing pool. Both attractive and about their age, neither one of them looked like a damn cowboy. For a moment she was tempted, and when the taller of the two met her gaze, she didn’t immediately turn away.

  He smiled at her, but all she could see in her mind was Caleb’s smile; the way his eyes shone with happiness, crinkling at the corners and lighting up his entire face. She’d been sure he cared for her, and wouldn’t leave this time.