Colt bit back a laugh.
“Don’t you think I’m sensitive?”
“Yep,” Colt said. “Sensitive enough.”
Colt’s smile slipped. That was what he was becoming. What Jen was turning him into. Too damned sensitive. Which was exactly why he was standing here hyperventilating over the risk of Jen getting thrown off her horse despite the fact that she was a strong rider and it’d been months since her last fall.
Though it’d probably help if he didn’t know how hard that dirt hurt when you slammed into it at high speed. Or how difficult it was to roll outta the way, get back on your feet and avoid a thousand-pound animal crushing the air out of your lungs.
Yeah. He might deal with it better if he hadn’t experienced that himself.
“Hell. Whatever.” Judd scanned the stands, gaze lingering over one section. “There’s always another one out there.”
Colt nodded. Judd was right on that count. There was always another woman. Plenty of them. And Colt had spent more nights than he cared to remember over the past four years trying to enjoy them. Only problem was, he no longer wanted them. Hadn’t wanted anyone but Jen since the second he’d laid eyes on her.
He glanced to his left, managing to catch a quick glimpse of her face as she looked up before facing the barrels. Her long, red curls slipped over her shoulder, obscuring the curves of her cheek and mouth.
His body tightened. That mouth. That beautiful, soft mouth she’d used two weeks ago to whisper a sweet plea in his ear. That she’d trailed temptingly across the stubble on his cheek before kissing him.
What would those lush lips of hers have felt like if he’d given in and kissed her back? Kissed her the way he’d wanted to for years? Deeply and passionately. How would she have responded? With slow, coaxing movements? Or hot, hungry—?
Colt jerked his head to the side. Shut it down. He had no right wondering. No right even contemplating it. Jen was too good a woman for a sexy, meaningless fling. And that’d never be enough for him, anyway. Not with her. Jen wasn’t like the women he played with on the circuit. She was a competitive, focused athlete. One who wasn’t impressed by smooth talk or skilled touches. She was above that. Deserved better.
A woman like Jen deserved a ring, a picket fence and a baby. The whole shebang. The kind of woman he wasn’t interested in and wouldn’t be any good with.
So he’d turned her down. He’d torn himself away before he had a chance to screw up and give in. Had arranged for a mutual friend he trusted to get her back to the motel safely, then had hauled ass with the first woman who threw herself in his path.
Colt’s face tingled, his neck burning. He’d known just the sight of him leaving with another woman would tick Jen off enough to sober her up a bit and take her mind in another direction. She didn’t need to know the farthest he’d gone with Autumn Langley was to the parking lot to help her into her truck. That he’d pulled a 180 right there on the cracked pavement and politely refused the rest of Autumn’s advances.
He winced and rubbed his fingers over his cheek. Or that Autumn had smacked him a good one and accused him of leading her on. Using her to make Jen jealous. Which, no matter how good his intentions had been, was exactly what he’d done.
Yep. It was better he just be that guy. The one not worth crying over. That was the kind he’d been for years, anyway. The kind he’d always be.
“Next up, folks, is Jen Taylor.” Cheers broke out around the arena at the announcement. “She hails from Hollow Rock, Georgia.”
Colt straightened, hands grabbing the rail again.
Jen took her place at the top of the alley. She sat tall in the saddle, her red hair shining against her turquoise blouse, providing a fiery contrast to Diamond’s white hide.
A shot of heat streaked through Colt. Damn, she was beautiful.
“Jen’s partner is Diamond,” the announcer shouted over the crowd, “though you probably know them as Fire and Ice.”
The fans in the bleachers above Colt jumped to their feet, yelping as handfuls of their popcorn bounced off his hat. Colt’s smile returned. Jen was good. Better than good. And everyone knew it. He’d seen her work her way up through grueling hours of practice, endless tours on the circuit and dogged determination.
The same determination that scared the hell out of him when she rode. She didn’t hold back during a run. Wouldn’t let Diamond, either. She burned across the dirt like a flame and Diamond curved around those barrels like a slick coating of frost.
“Jen looks ready,” Judd said, nudging him with an elbow. “Think she can pull it off?”
“Hell, yeah.”
A 15.32? Jen could crack that in her sleep. So long as she kept her focus.
Colt trained his gaze on Jen’s face. Her brown eyes remained pinned to the pocket by the left barrel, lush lips moving slowly in a silent mantra. Diamond shuffled his feet in anticipation as he waited for her permission. A nod, a swift kick and they were off, blasting down the alley and heading for the first barrel at full speed.
The first turn was flawless. Jen checked him with two hands at just the right moment, gripped the saddle horn and led him around clean and easy. Diamond tore out of the turn and dashed to the next. The second rotation carried off without a hitch.
The pair blazed over to the last barrel but Diamond stumbled. His front hoof slipped on the uneven dirt, jerking Jen forward. The rail rattled under Colt’s grip and his boot shot to the lower fence rung. His stomach heaved as the audience gasped.
“Hold on, Red,” he bit out.
She did. Diamond regained his footing and darted around the last turn. Jen loosened the reins, giving Diamond control, and they blasted across the finish line to the applause of the crowd.
Colt relaxed and released his death grip on the fence.
“Damned shame,” Judd said. “That trip’s gonna cost her.”
“Don’t care.” Colt pushed off the rail and headed for the exit. “She’s still in one piece.”
Though her pride had probably taken a hit at not earning the best time.
“Hey, where you going?” Judd called. “We’re up soon.”
“I know.” Colt waved him off. “Be back in a minute.”
With swift strides, he dodged whooping spectators under the blaring voice on the PA system.
“Beautiful ride by Jen Taylor. Time is 15.37, placing her second. Let’s give that gal a hand...”
Nope. No way would Jen be happy with that. She’d said on more than one occasion that getting second only meant you were the first loser. Something he had a sudden desire to help her see differently.
Colt continued forcing his way through the chaotic mass of people. He’d made it several feet when a cry cut through the air at his side. A pink bundle banged into his left knee and he grabbed it before it tumbled to the floor.
A young girl—three, maybe four?—tossed her blond curls off her cute face and steadied herself with a small hand on his leg. She had brown eyes and freckles, just like his younger half sister, Meg. At least that was what he remembered. He’d last seen her when he left home seven years ago.
An uncomfortable ache formed in his gut. One that appeared every time he remembered leaving Meg behind. “Whoa, there. You all right?”
The girl looked up at him, blinked, then spun back to scowl at the man chasing after her.
“But I want it!” Her outraged shriek almost took the roof off the arena.
“No, Annabelle.” The man took her arm and tugged her back to his side. “You’ve already had one cotton candy and that’s enough for tonight.” He nodded at Colt, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem, man.”
Colt glanced at the girl straining against her dad’s hold. Her cheeks turned cherry red and her eyes squinted.
Here it comes. Colt did his best to navigate around the group in front of him and gain some distance.
“But Ty got two,” she screeched. “I want two.”
“Your brother only had one. The same as you. I said no and that’s that.”
She jerked away and hit the floor, her pink skirt flopping around her flailing legs. Her screaming sobs prompted everyone within a mile radius to frown in her dad’s direction. He bent, hissed admonishments and tried to gather up her writhing form, with no success.
Colt cringed. Poor bastard. Kids might be cute but most of ’em turned out to be little devils disguised in pink ribbons or baseball caps. A man had to be crazy to saddle himself with one on a permanent basis.
The girl’s cries strengthened, piercing Colt’s ears and provoking a pained laugh from him. He shook his head and forged through the crowd, making his way outside. The fresh air enveloped him and the girl’s shrieks faded.
“Hey.” Tammy bumped him with her shoulder and fell in step beside him. Her lopsided smile didn’t hold its usual sparkle. “Come to console our partner?”
Colt shrugged. “No need for consoling. Jen had a good run.”
“Yeah. I know.” Tammy nodded toward the outskirts of the warm-up area. “But try telling her that.”
Jen was cooling Diamond down, apart from everyone at the edge of the grass. She walked him in slow lines, chin lifted. If Colt hadn’t spent years studying every sweet curve of her body and how she moved it, he might’ve missed the overly stiff set of her shoulders and hard clench of her thighs around the saddle. But he didn’t.
Colt cut his eyes away and watched the other racers mingling around the cooldown area. “I’m gonna touch base with her before I ride. You mind giving us a minute?”
“Sure.” Tammy’s brows raised, her green eyes encouraging as she walked away. “Take your time.”
Colt walked over to Jen, stopping as she maneuvered Diamond into a turn and faced him. Her eyes flashed.
He squared his shoulders then nodded up at her. “That was a damn good run, Red.”
Jen stilled and the hard glint in her eyes softened. She smiled. The action small and beautiful. But hesitant.
“Thanks.” She patted Diamond’s thick shoulder. “I’ve got a talented partner.”
“It wasn’t all him,” Colt said. “You had a part in that, too. The hardest part.” His hand lifted, reaching toward her. He brought it back to his side and shifted his stance. “Second place is fantastic considering the tough competition you had. You really were great.”
Jen looked away, brushing light touches over Diamond’s mane. Her smile fell. “Wasn’t quite enough, though,” she whispered.
Colt’s throat closed. She was so hard on herself. More critical of her performances than anyone else was. Almost to the point of erasing all the joy from a competition. Her face had stopped lighting up at the start of a run like it used to. And at the moment he wanted to see that glow in her smile again. Needed to see it.
“It’ll be more than enough next time,” he said, freezing at the husky note in his voice.
Something soft heated his palm. He blinked and looked down, stiffening at the sight of his hand curled around her thigh, easing its way up toward her hip. Just as it had with so many other women.
Her rich, brown eyes narrowed their focus on his hand, then shot to his face. “Feeling sorry for me, Colt? Trying to help me feel better by throwing me a little attention?” Her face flushed and her voice shook. “I don’t need soothing. But Autumn might. She said you’re welcome to pay her a visit later.” She eased Diamond back a few steps, sliding away from his touch. “Seems you’re good at a lot more than just sweet-talking women.”
Ah, hell. That was called for. But it stung. It squeezed his chest so tight, his lungs threatened to collapse.
Still, Jen’s anger was an improvement over the defeated expression she’d had moments ago and a lot easier to deal with than her adoration. Especially since he knew that in the long run, he’d only disappoint.
“Yeah.” He choked back his pride, knuckled his hat farther up his forehead and conjured a sly grin. “I am. You just haven’t seen me at my best yet, baby.” He widened his smile, easing back into the safe, familiar role. “Stick around and watch me ride.”
Colt spun on his heel and ambled away. Jen’s hard stare burned a bigger hole in his back with each step. He took the long way around to the bull pens, avoiding every buckle bunny and child within sight.
Women. He understood them only in the bedroom. And kids? He didn’t understand them at all. Bulls, however, he got. And the massive, black-and-white-speckled monster glaring at him through the gate was about to get to know him, too.
Chapter Two
“Careful. That son o’ a bitch can spring.”
Colt handed the end of his rope to Judd and studied the restless bull being prepared in the chute below them. “I hope so.”
A bull that jumped, kicked and spun right out of the chute guaranteed a shot at a high score. The kind of score Judd had failed at grabbing several rides ago when he’d drawn a flat bull that took a Sunday stroll out of the chute instead of blasting out of it. Hopefully, Sonic, the burly beast Colt had drawn, would be feistier.
As if on cue, the angry animal slammed his thick horns into the metal rails, then sprang up, hooking his hooves over the top of the eight-feet-high gate. The cheers filling the Silver Spurs Arena strengthened as the cowboys surrounding the chute yanked on the ropes draped over the bull’s back, pulling him off the gate.
Colt smiled. Hell, yeah. This one was a damn deal feistier.
He glanced around the arena, taking steady breaths and visualizing a successful scenario on the dirt. But his eyes snagged on a cream-colored hat and red hair in the stands.
In the front row, Jen no longer sat, but had shot to her feet, eyes on the bull banging around in the chute below him, and face creased with apprehension. Tammy and another woman he recognized as a barrel racer—Karla, was it?—stood at her side, looking equally dismayed.
Colt turned away, started wrapping tape around the glove on his left hand and did his best to ignore the warm satisfaction rippling through him. Pissed though she was, Jen had not only stuck around for over an hour to watch his ride, she was worried about him.
“Told you this joker could spring,” Judd shouted over the hard rock music. “You ready to get slung?”
“Yep.” Colt bit the tape off, handed the roll to one of the spotters at his side and jerked his chin. “So long as it’s after eight seconds.”
A buzzing in Colt’s back pocket rattled through the denim of his jeans. He yanked his cell phone out, glancing at the lit screen. Mead Enterprises.
Colt shook his head. Friday night. Approaching 10:00 p.m. No doubt his father, John W. Mead, would still be holed up in his high-rise Atlanta office closing another deal. It was always about business with John W. Mead. Never personal. And never about actually building a relationship with his son. That had become especially true after Colt’s mother died.
Nope. His old man probably wanted the same thing he’d been hassling him about for the last year.
Time to get your ass home, Colt. You’ve played long enough and there’s work to be done.
Colt rejected the call with a rough swipe of his thumb and shoved his cell toward Judd. “Mind hanging on to that till I’m through?”
“Sure.” Judd shoved it in his pocket, then firmed his grip on the rope.
Colt scrutinized Sonic’s movements and regained his focus. He shoved in his mouth guard, grabbed the opposite rail and climbed into the chute, placing a boot in the center of the bull’s back. He waited a couple seconds as Sonic shifted and stomped, then slid his legs down around the bull’s muscular sides and sat.
The rich scent of musky hide filled his nostrils and th
e tang of dirt drifting on the air touched his tongue with each breath he took. He grabbed hold of the rope Judd stretched up, and yanked his gloved hand over it briskly, tapping it with his fist when he finished to cue Judd to hand it over. Hooking his gloved fingers through the handle laying over the bull’s back, he set the rope, then wrapped the long end of it around his palm. He closed his fist, opened it, then curled it again.
Satisfied with his grip, Colt secured his position, then nodded.
The gate clanged open and Sonic catapulted into the arena, his back end twisting and lifting vertically several feet into the air on a vicious kick. Colt stretched his right arm high above his head as they rose up. He leaned back and the muscles in his left forearm seized with his strained grip on the rope.
Sonic’s hard haunches slammed against Colt’s shoulder blades. The bull’s long tail whipped over Colt’s head and smacked across his face, the coarse hairs stinging his eyes and knocking his hat off his head.
Gravity snatched them back down and Sonic’s front hooves hit the dirt, yanking Colt forward. Colt jerked his head to the side, his cheek missing the sharp point of a horn by inches.
Sonic lurched again, lifting them both so high so fast that Colt’s gut swirled on an intense wave of panicked excitement. A shout exploded from deep within his chest and blasted through the smile stretching across his mouth guard.
Hot damn! This beast could fly.
Clenching his thighs to counteract each of Sonic’s moves, Colt held on with his left fist, but let go of the world around him. The spectators’ cheers dimmed to barely discernable echoes and the violent thrashings of the bull rattled away every care or concern he’d ever had.
They soared, spun, then thudded hard against the earth. Over and over. Each of their grunts and harsh breaths flooded Colt’s senses as he pitted his will against Sonic’s.
A buzzer sounded and reality struck, ripping his attention away from the battle and back to survival. He wrestled his hand free of the rope and leaned to the side as Sonic writhed in the air, allowing the momentum to sling him from the bull’s back and tumble him across the dirt.
The Bull Rider's Cowgirl Page 2
