He knew. She shouldn’t be surprised that he’d figured it out. She could tell he knew she’d been crying, too.
“Long enough.”
Beneath his black hat, Cabe’s eyes danced around her face, scanning the depths of her eyes. “Do you love him?”
She stood at the edge of the cliff. Then jumped.
“Yes.”
“Then why are you in here crying? And why is Trent on his way back home?”
So he was gone.
“It would have never worked.” She wiped her eyes again. “He’s a rodeo—” she searched for the right word “—legend. I’m not the type of woman that could ever hold his interest for long.”
And where had that come from?
“Give me a break.”
“Not to mention he lives in Colorado.”
“So?”
She shook her head sharply. “I’m not leaving you guys, Cabe. You know what it’s like with Rana. She needs me.”
“She would survive.”
“Yeah, but I would feel guilty as hell.”
“Sounds like an excuse.”
She inhaled sharply.
“If you love him, things will work out.”
“Not without one of us having to give up a huge part of our lives.”
“Sometimes love means sacrifice.”
“One of us would end up resentful.”
“Sounds like you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Yes, you are. Rana would be fine, Alana. Trust me. It’s not like she doesn’t have me to lean on.”
“Cabe—”
“So don’t use her as an excuse.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re scared.”
“No.”
“You’re afraid something else bad will happen if you leave the ranch.”
“That’s not it at all.”
“What’s more, you’re making a huge mistake.” He fingered the brim of his hat. “Trent’s a good man. Sure, he might live in another state, and sure, you two might have to work out some sort of arrangement in order to see each other, but if you love him, that won’t be a problem.”
“I’m not scared.”
Aren’t you?
Okay, so maybe she was a little, but that was irrelevant.
“Then call Trent right now. Tell him to turn around. Tell him you were wrong.”
She felt as if someone sat on her chest. She tried to inhale. Tried to simply breathe. “I can’t,” she said, tears filling her eyes again. “I just can’t.”
And instead of comforting her, Cabe just stared at her.
Rana came bounding in then, the girl’s bright eyes losing their luster when she spotted the tears in Alana’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.” Alana forced a smile. “Just a headache.” That was true now. “I’m sorry I missed your performance, kiddo. How’d you do?”
“I did great!” Rana plopped next to her dad, her hat nearly knocked from her head she sat so down hard. “Scooter was sooooo perfect. I ended up second, but afterward Trent came over and gave me some more pointers. You should have seen it. Everyone gathered around. People were asking for his autograph. It was so embarrassing.”
He’d stuck around. For Rana. Why did that make her feel like crying all over again?
“I told everyone to leave him alone,” Rana was saying. “But he didn’t seem to mind. Oh.” She sat up straighter. “He gave me something to give you.” She fished around in her pocket. “Here.”
A letter. Her heart leaped into her chest.
“Come on,” Cabe said. “Let’s get Scooter loaded.” He stood, motioning for Rana to follow.
Alana stared at the letter long after they left. Afraid. Hearing the sounds of the rodeo going on outside, yet not really hearing the applause from the crowd, the shouts of the cowboys, the moans of the cows.
Crap.
She unfolded the paper.
Alana—
I’m not giving up. I’m going to do what you said. I’m going to make it to the NFR and I’ll be thinking of you the whole way. Afterward, I’m coming back for you. Win or lose. I don’t care. If I have to I’ll quit competing. I’ll settle down in Colorado, or California. Wherever you are. In the meantime I’ll stay away. But only until after the NFR. Then I’m coming for you. Perhaps by then you’ll get it through your fool head that what we have is real, and that I love you.
Trent
She had tears running down her face, tears she hadn’t even noticed.
The letter fell from her grasp.
Chapter Twenty-Four
He rode like a man on fire.
It was big news in the rodeo world—how Trent Anderson overcame his horrific injuries and the death of his best friend, all so he could win another round at the NFR in Dustin’s memory.
Alana told herself not to watch him on TV. It was too painful. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself. He stuck with team roping, Mac his constant partner. After a month he sat thirty-first in the nation. After two months he sat twentieth. By the beginning of October, he’d almost cracked the top fifteen.
And the flowers... Roses. Daisies. Mums. Always something. And somehow, crazily, instead of fading, her love for him only grew.
“Did you see!” Rana cried, bursting into her apartment without so much as a knock. “He did it, Alana! Trent qualified.”
She held a sheet of paper in her hand, a printout, Alana realized, of the top leaders in the country. Trent’s name sat at number twelve.
“He did it!” Rana said again.
Yes, he had, Alana thought, the paper she held suddenly trembling thanks to her shaky hands.
“Are we going to Las Vegas to watch? It’s only an eight-hour drive. I know. I looked it up.”
Go to the NFR? To watch Trent?
“Why would we do that?”
“Because you’ve been moping around here for months,” Rana said sternly. “I’m not an idiot, Aunt Alana. You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”
“Rana—”
“You did, didn’t you? My dad and I talked about it the other day. He said you’re afraid to leave the ranch, afraid to leave me.”
He’d told her that?
“Rana, that’s not true.” Not really.
“Isn’t it?”
She couldn’t look the girl in the eye.
Rana bent down close to her, forcing her to meet her gaze. “Aunt Alana,” she said softly, firmly. “I’d rather suffer through a million nightmares alone than watch you be unhappy.”
“Oh, Rana.”
She realized in that instant that Rana wasn’t a little girl anymore. Somehow, without Alana noticing, she’d turned into a young lady, her eyes more wise than she’d ever seen them before.
“You love him, Aunt Alana. Don’t bother to deny it because I can see it in your eyes. What’s more, you’re going to go see him.”
* * *
ONE MORE DAY, Trent thought. One more day and the waiting would be over. The hard work. The long weekends. The miles and miles of road traveled—all culminating in his first ride at the NFR.
“You nervous, buddy?” Mac asked, clapping him on the back.
They’d just finished practicing in the Thomas & Mack Center, the two of them keeping their horses in the portable stalls set up on the grounds just for contestant horses, which meant they were outside, and it was cold. Trent was thinking he would need to blanket Dee tonight. Poor horse would freeze to death otherwise.
“Not nervous. Just anxious.”
Steam rose off Dee’s brown-and-white back where the saddle had sat. Trent wondered if he should put a blanket on the horse now.
The last thing Dee needed was a sore back.
“You still gonna quit afterward?”
He dropped his horse’s bridle, slipping the halter on right after, and his horse tried to rub an itchy spot on his head on Trent’s arm.
“Stop that,” he ordered.
“Well, are you?” Mac persisted, his own horse already unsaddled, too.
“You don’t have to.”
He jerked upright in shock because he recognized that voice. Alana.
“I’ve lived five months without you. I think I can handle the weekends.”
He caught Mac’s eyes. The shock on his face was all the confirmation Trent needed.
“And I’m so sorry I kept us apart for even that long.”
Slowly, he faced her, a part of him irrationally afraid that he might somehow scare Alana off if he turned too quickly.
She had tears in her eyes.
“I think...” He saw her lips tremble. “I think I needed the time apart. Think I needed to get my head sorted out.”
“I know.” He swallowed, realized his own throat was thick with tears. “Cabe told me what was going on.”
The words didn’t seem to surprise her. If anything, her smile grew.
“I was afraid.” She dropped her gaze for a moment before lifting it again. “I just couldn’t believe that this could be real. That I could have fallen in love so quickly, so completely.”
“Alana—”
He opened his arms.
She sank into them, and Trent closed his eyes and inhaled her scent and thought he didn’t give a rat’s ass if he never won the NFR again—as long as she was in his arms.
“I love you.”
A tear hit his cheek leaving a hot streak behind. “I know.”
“But even though Rana’s okay with it, I really don’t want to abandon her altogether.”
He held her even tighter. “I know. That’s why Cabe and I worked out a schedule. We’ll spend our summers in California, winters in Colorado. There’s plenty of rodeos on the West Coast to keep me busy.”
It must have been the right thing to say, because suddenly she buried her head in his arms. He rested his head on her hair, held her, catching Mac’s own teary-eyed gaze as he walked by, leaving them alone with nothing but the horses, a breeze and Nevada’s silver sky.
“You have to promise me something, Trent Anderson,” she said a long while later.
“Anything.”
She drew back, stared into his eyes. “You better win the average—for Dustin...and Braden...and Kim.”
“I will.”
She lifted a hand to his cheek. “I love you.”
He smiled. “I know.”
And two weeks later, he did exactly as promised—he won the average at the National Finals Rodeo, but it was nothing compared to winning Alana’s heart.
* * * * *
Be sure to look for Pamela Britton’s next
American Romance book in November 2013!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Cowboy for Keeps by Cathy McDavid
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin American Romance story.
You love small towns and cowboys! Harlequin American Romance stories are heartwarming contemporary tales of everyday women finding love, becoming part of a family or community—or maybe starting a family of her own.
Enjoy four new stories from Harlequin American Romance every month!
Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.
We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com
Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Chapter One
The tie choked worse than a pair of hands around his neck.
Conner Durham yanked at the knot, loosening the tie, and then ripped it off altogether. He flung the offensive garment onto the passenger seat beside him, where his rumpled suit jacket already lay. The interview, his third with this particular company, had been a complete and utter waste of time.
He wasn’t getting the job; the hiring manager had said as much before dismissing him with the dreaded “Thanks, we’ll be in touch.”
Turning his truck onto the long drive leading to Powell Ranch, Conner slowed his speed to the posted ten miles an hour. He’d have to find a different way to vent his frustration other than pressing his pedal to the metal.
Maybe he’d take Dos Rojo out, work the young gelding in the arena. He and the mustang, named for his distinctive red coloring, were still ironing out the kinks in their relationship, deciding who was in charge. So far, they were even, with Dos Rojo coming out ahead some days, Conner on others.
Driving past the main horse barn, he headed for his quarters, a four-hundred-square-foot efficiency apartment. Hard to believe a mere six months ago he’d owned a five-bedroom house and spent money as if it did indeed grow on trees.
No more, and not again in the foreseeable future, unless his luck drastically changed.
Luck, the lack of it, had to be the reason he couldn’t find a decent job. It certainly wasn’t his qualifications. According to the one-in-twenty prospective employers who’d bothered to contact him after receiving his résumé, he had qualifications coming out his ears. Usually more than the job required.
Little did they know Conner was already downplaying his education and experience in order to make himself more hirable.
Inside the apartment, he swapped the rest of his dress clothes for a well-worn work shirt and jeans. Threading his belt through the loops, he fastened the gold buckle. It was one of his most cherished possessions and proclaimed him Arizona State Champion in steer wrestling. He’d won the buckle in college, before abandoning his cowboy ways in order to earn double MBAs and make his mark in corporate America.
Which he did, for six years, only to fall victim to a massive layoff and departmental downsizing. In the five minutes it took Human Resources to inform Conner that his good pal and fellow manager would take over his position and absorb the few remaining members left on Conner’s team, his entire life had changed.
A knock sounding on the door provided a welcome distraction. Another minute and Conner might have started feeling sorry for himself.
Yeah, right. Who was he kidding?
“Door’s open,” he called, pulling on his boots and standing.
“You decent?” Gavin Powell, Conner’s lifelong friend and current boss, barged inside. His glance went straight to the sleeping area, where Conner stood in front of the haphazardly made bed. “Good, you’re ready.”
“You need something done?”
Instead of answering, Gavin sniffed around the kitchen counter.
“Hungry?”
“I missed lunch. How’d the interview g—”
“Don’t ask.” Conner strolled into the kitchen, adjusting his Stetson till it fit snugly on his head. “You live in a house full of people. Didn’t one of them fix you some food?”
“Sage and the baby are taking a nap, since someone kept us up last night, crying. Dad’s down with the flu. Between laundry and helping the girls with their homework, the afternoon got away from me. Do you have any idea how many papers parents are expected to read and sign? Three, just for Isa to go on a field trip.”
Last spring, Gavin and Sage had married, joining them and their two daughters, each from a previous relationship, into one big happy family. Now they had a t
wo-month-old son, making their family even bigger and happier.
“Never mind,” he complained. “I’ll grab some crackers in the office. Which, by the way, is where I need you to be in an hour.”
“What’s up?”
“I finally hired a photographer. She’s meeting with us at four-thirty.”
“Us?” Conner quirked a brow.
“You heard right. I need someone to act as a guide. Who knows the story of Prince and is familiar enough with these mountains to lead a day ride. You’re the only one I can spare fitting that description.”
Conner didn’t argue. He owed Gavin for the roof over his head and the food on his table. Literally. If Gavin hadn’t rescued him a few months ago, when his severance pay ran out, he might now be living in his truck.
“What about Dos Rojo?” Conner asked. “I want to work him in the arena before the equestrian drill team arrives for their practice.”
“Then I guess you’d better get started.”
They parted ways on the porch. As Conner crossed the open area and headed toward the horse barn, the many changes occurring at the ranch during the last two years struck him anew. His own apartment was once a bunkhouse, back in the days when the Powells had owned and operated a thriving cattle business. The smaller of the two horse barns had been expanded to include stud quarters for Prince, the Powells’ pride and joy. And the cattle barn, now a mare motel, housed the many horses brought to the ranch to breed with Prince.
Like Conner, Thunder Ranch and the Powells had suffered a grave financial setback, a combination of the economic downturn, loss of their range and encroaching housing developments.
Unlike Conner, the Powells had bounced back, thanks in large part to Prince, a stallion Gavin had discovered roaming free in the nearby McDowell Mountain Preserve. More significant perhaps, the Powells had adapted, turning what remained of their cattle ranch into Scottsdale’s most successful public riding stable.
A Cowboy's Pride Page 21
