And Then You Dare (Crested Butte Cowboys Series Book 5)

by Heather A Buchman

  Tristan glanced at Bullet who had an “I told you so” look on his face. She looked again at the card.

  “Thank you, Piper. That’s you right?”

  “Oh goodness, didn’t I introduce myself? Yes, I’m Piper.”

  Tristan and Bullet shook hands with her, and she left.

  “Guess I’ll see you around,” Bullet walked toward the cabin door.

  “Sure, see you.”

  “If you’re interested, I can let you know where we’ll be practicin’.”

  Once again Tristan was reminded how different Bullet was from Walter. Seeing the lecher who broke her heart really put their differences in perspective. Bullet was his own man.

  “I’d like that,” she said after too long a time. She saw Bullet visibly exhale as though he was waiting for her answer to breathe again. “Maybe we could check out the hot tub later too,” she added.

  If only she had a camera to capture the stunned look on Bullet’s face. It was priceless.

  “Yeah? Did you remember your bathing suit this time?”

  Tristan walked closer to the cabin door. Bullet stepped over the threshold. “Nope, I sure didn’t.” She could only imagine the look on his face now was even more priceless as she closed the door behind him.

  ***

  Bullet could barely walk let alone remember how his phone worked. The last thing, the very last thing, he expected from Tristan was for her to flirt with him, and so brazenly.

  How the hell was he supposed to focus on bulls now? Maybe he should go back, knock on her door, and wait a few hours to call his trainer. In fact, maybe he should wait until tomorrow to call him.

  “Hey there, you Bullet?” a man shouted from down near the corral.

  “Yes sir, I am.”

  “I’m Buck Bishop. I understand you’re quite the young bull rider.”

  The two met halfway on the path between the cabins and the corral. “Don’t know about that, but I sure want to be.”

  “Let’s get to work then.”

  He’d heard of Buck, he was known as one of the best in the world. But Bullet had heard he’d retired.

  He’d taken Tristan’s bag to her cabin, but his was still in the truck. “I’ll stow my bag and grab my gear.”

  “I’ll be waitin’. Don’t dally.”

  Dallying would be the last thing he’d do. Having an opportunity like this was once in a lifetime.

  As he walked back to his truck, he could hear music coming from Tristan’s cabin. Talk about an opportunity of a lifetime. He’d have two this week. And he intended to take full advantage of both.

  ***

  Tristan unpacked her clothes and put them in the rustic-looking wardrobe. Everything in the room was designed to look old-time western, but upon closer inspection, the fabrics used, the construction of the furniture, even the fixtures, were the best of the best. She was beginning to understand that while those vacationing at the ranch wanted an authentic experience, they also wanted high-end comfort.

  She ran her hand over the granite counters in the over-sized bathroom, and was pleased to see a jetted soaking tub big enough for two.

  Back in the main room of the cabin she found a docking station for her iPod, and chose the playlist she listened to most often when she was designing.

  She heard the door of the cabin next door close, and peeked out the window. Bullet was on his way to the corral, carrying most of his gear. He’d already put on his chaps and vest. In his hand he carried his bull rope, leather glove, and protective helmet. She was happy to see it had a mask attached similar to those worn by hockey players. It would be downright sinful for a face as perfectly rugged as his to be injured. His jeans hugged his butt as he swaggered more than walked down the pathway.

  The chaps he wore were relatively plain compared to most she’d seen. They were made of black leather, with fringe along the sides and bottom. Tan leather accents dressed them up a bit, but Tristan knew for certain that Bullet would have flashier chaps for actual competitions.

  Perhaps she’d sketch a few designs for men’s chaps this afternoon too. She was sure her daddy expected her to be working on the Lost Cowboy line this week. She’d go home with some for him, along with more for her.

  First she’d spend a few minutes making notes for Bullet’s Lost Cowboy story. It was another thing that came out of her run-in with Walter. Comparing the two had made it so clear. Bullet was a lost cowboy, and he was working damn hard to find his way back. He was a flirt, no question, but the more she got to know him, the more she realized he was a decent man. The story was a go, and soon, so would the sponsorship.

  ***

  There wasn’t anything Buck told Bullet that he hadn’t heard before from Bill. The difference was Buck was harder on him than Bill had ever been, and there wasn’t anyone or anything else to distract him from seeing every single mistake Bullet made. He was patient though, and while he pointed things out to him, Buck didn’t seem frustrated.

  “Good first out,” he patted him on the back. “That’s enough for today. I have a good idea what we’ll focus on this week.” Buck handed Bullet a folder. “Here’s your workout schedule.” He pointed toward the same building Piper had. “You’ll find a workout room in there. When you finish your sets, I want you to hit either the steam or the sauna, but not both. Then get yourself into the hot tub.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bullet said, perusing the sheets of paper in the folder. He’d never worked out this hard in his life, not even when he was in high school and played football and baseball.

  “You swim?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “In the back you’ll see some workouts you can do in the lap pool. That’ll be less hard on your joints on days you’re feelin’ sore.”

  Bullet saw Buck had a schedule for each day he would be at the ranch. It started right after breakfast, and ended right before dinner. It looked as though he’d have time to himself in the evening, if he wasn’t too exhausted to move.

  “Thank you sir,” Bullet shook Buck’s hand. “I don’t know who set all this up, but I sure do appreciate your time. I guess I should ask what I’m gonna owe you.”

  “That’s all taken care of. Don’t give it another thought.”

  Bullet figured as much, which is why he hadn’t asked earlier. Could be that Flying R covered it as part of his sponsorship. Bill could’ve too, in which case, he’d pay him back every penny, either in cash or in damn hard work. There was a possibility it was his parents, but that was the least likely option.

  Both he and Lyric were raised to make their own way in the world. His gram’s house was nice, and they never wanted for anything they needed, but they were expected to earn their keep. As far as he was concerned, learning the value of a dollar, and the importance of having a good work ethic were the best things his family taught him and his sister.

  He knew if he ever really needed financial help his parents would give it to him. So far, he hadn’t. Even with paying child support to Pearl’s mother, and providing for Callie and Grey while they were still in Oklahoma and he was in Colorado, he’d made it work.

  He did it by living simply, not extravagantly. And always working. He’d gotten his first ranch job while he was still in high school. While his buddies were still in bed, he was at the ranch helping with morning chores. If he didn’t have sports practice after school, he’d be over there again. They paid him a good wage, but he earned it. Along with it, he earned a reputation that had ranches competing over him when it came time to hire for calving season, or branding.

  It was his off-hours that got him into trouble. When he’d go out after work, he and his buddies would dare each other to do just about anything. They’d have drinking dares, who could pick up certain women dares, who could come up with the best pickup line that actually worked dares.

  He’d won that one hands down one night, with three different women. All he’d done was walk up, look’em up and down, and say, “Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?” It said something about th
e caliber of women they ran into at the bars in his hometown. Looking back on it, Bullet was ashamed of the way he acted.

  If he ran into one of those buddies now, they’d have a hard time believing it had been over two months since he’d been with a woman. There had been a time when he couldn’t go two days.

  Maybe he was finally growing up. And maybe he wasn’t quite as irresponsible as everyone else believed.

  “See ya in the mornin’,” Buck waved. Bullet had forgotten he was there.

  “Yeah, see ya. And thanks,” he waved back. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. He didn’t have a signal way out here, but he saw he had about an hour before dinner. Time enough for a shower and sprucing himself up for what he hoped would be a dinner date with the lovely Tristan McCullough.

  She was already there when Bullet walked into the dining hall. She stood at the bar talking with the cowboy behind it pouring her a drink. She looked mighty fine in her sleeveless blouse and flowery short skirt. It had been warm today, unseasonably so, and it looked as though she’d spent some time in the sun. Her long legs were tucked into her calf-high boots, and her toe tapped to the beat of the music.

  She turned then, and looked at him. Once again her cheeks pinkened, as they often did when she smiled at him. Behind her ear, tucked into her flowing, long brown hair, was a daisy. He remembered seeing the vase full of them sitting on the desk in her cabin. He didn’t remember seeing flowers in his.

  Strands of her hair fell forward and curled around her cheeks. She moistened her lips and he remembered how soft they’d felt a few nights before, when he kissed her on Liv and Ben’s front porch.

  “You looked good out there,” her gaze fell when he got close, her lips curved into a sweet smile.

  “You were watchin’?” Once again her cheeks gradually turned a faint pink.

  “For a little while.” She looked up at him. “Would you like to join me for a drink?”

  He sat in the stool next to hers. Her body was close enough that he could smell her natural scent—sunshine and the outdoors mingled with something else, roses maybe. Or daisies. When she moistened her lips, something passed between them. He felt it, and knew she did too.

  “You smell good,” he said, leaning in close.

  “So do you,” Tristan rested her hand on the bar. He longed to cover it with his, but he’d wait. He’d be in no hurry tonight, instead savoring every minute he could be alone with her.

  “I was afraid I’d smell like horses, or bulls,” he laughed.

  “No, it’s more leather, and freshly cut hay. I like it.” When she reached up and touched his hair an electric current surged through his body. He breathed in slowly as her fingers toyed with the curls that formed around his face when his hair was wet. He reached over and touched her hair too.

  “We both have curls.” He could feel the heat spreading through him. He’d barely touched her, yet his heart thundered. He wanted to kiss her, so badly. Everything in him wanted to seduce her. He hoped he could make it through dinner.

  “Bullet, I’ve judged you unfairly…”

  “What this about?” he soothed.

  She shook her head. “I had a bad experience with a bull rider—”

  “Shh now, we don’t need to talk about that.” He longed to draw her close, and make her forget any other bull riders existed.

  “No, I do need to talk about it. I haven’t been fair to you because of it. I saw him a couple days ago, and I realized then, you’re nothing like him.”

  Bullet felt his stomach muscles tighten. It wasn’t what she was saying, it was the idea of that she’d just spent time with someone she’d had a bad experience with.

  “What did he do?” His heart tightened. Why was the idea of her with another man, any other man, painful?

  “When? I mean, originally, or a couple days ago?”

  “Either one.”

  “I met him when I was competing. He was a bull rider, I was a barrel racer. He swept me off my feet, and then broke my heart. It didn’t happen that quickly. It was long and drawn out and miserable.”

  Bullet leaned forward. He couldn’t bear to hear another word. Before he could think better of it, he kissed her. He waited to see if she’d pull away, but she didn’t, so he kissed her again, this time more deeply.

  “Bullet—”

  “Shh,” he soothed again. “Don’t pull away from me.”

  He put his hand on the nape of her neck, and rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t resist you. No matter how hard I try to go slow, I get close to you and I can’t help but kiss you.”

  “I know,” Tristan rested her hands on his chest. Bullet didn’t know if anyone else was in the dining hall, and didn’t care. “I feel the same way.”

  He groaned at her admission, tightened his grip on her nape, and kissed her again.

  ***

  Bullet’s lips on hers felt so good. He alternated between ravaging her and kissing her softly, and slowly. His mouth moved against hers with warmth. He was tender with her, and loving.

  She opened her mouth to him, but her hands remained resting on his chest. His muscles were hard beneath her fingers, and she longed to slide inside his pearl snaps and feel his skin.

  “Oh, sorry. Oops.”

  Tristan moved away from Bullet when she heard Piper’s voice. “Wait.”

  Piper turned around, and Tristan saw a tray in her hand.

  “Is that dinner?”

  “The first course anyway. I can keep it in the back if you’re not ready to eat yet,” she looked between them and smiled.

  Tristan felt the heat in her cheeks once again. At this rate she’d spend the entire week in a state of embarrassment.

  “I’m ready. What about you Bullet?”

  “I’m famished.” Tristan met his gaze. He wasn’t talking about dinner.

  “Shall we sit then?”

  “You have your pick of tables,” said Piper.

  Bullet took her hand and led her to a table by the front window. “How’s this?”

  “It’s perfect.” Bullet held her chair for her to sit.

  Piper placed an appetizer plate in front of her, and then placed the other across the table. Bullet picked it up, and brought it to the place next to her instead. “Don’t mind if I sit next to you, do you? I want to be as close as I can.”

  He ran his fingers up and down her bare arm. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his touch. He leaned closer and kissed her shoulder.

  “I thought you were famished.”

  “I am. And you know what I meant, don’t pretend you don’t. You’re famished too, I can feel it.”

  Chill bumps covered her arms, and she trembled under his touch. There would be no pretending with Bullet. He read her perfectly.

  “Seriously, you must be starving.”

  “Uh huh,” he murmured, his teeth gently grazing the skin on her shoulder.

  “I can bring dinner to your cabins. Or cabin, if you’d prefer.” Piper approached their table with a bottle of wine in hand.

  “No,” gasped Tristan. “We’re, uh, fine.”

  “Would you like a glass of wine? It’s a Chardonnay, but if you’d prefer something else—”

  “No, that’s fine.” Why did she keep saying everything was fine? “It’s perfect, thank you.” Tristan held her glass out for Piper to pour.

  “Sir, would you like some wine?”

  “I’ll have whatever the lady is having,” he answered. Tristan could feel his gaze on her. She doubted he’d even looked at Piper.

  “Enjoy your first course. Pear and goat cheese on crostini with fig confit, in case you were wondering.”

  “Mmm,” Bullet moaned. “It sounds amazing. Thank you Piper.”

  He was using that tone of voice again, the one she’d heard him use with the filly. When Bullet talked that way, women seemed to melt around him. Tristan didn’t miss the way Piper’s cheeks turned pink the same way hers did.

  Bullet lifted his crostini to her lips.
“Take a bite.”

  “Don’t you want it?”

  “Sure I do. We’re gonna share.”

  Tristan took a bite. Bullet popped the other half in his mouth. “Your turn,” he said.

  She lifted her crostini to his lips and instead of taking a small bite as she had, he took the whole thing, his mouth catching her fingers as he did.

  “Hey, that isn’t fair.”

  “I take what I want Tristan. That’s meant as a warning.” His deep voice reverberated through her. Her breath quickened as he continued to trail a finger softly down the length of her arm. When he reached her hand, he clasped it, and brought it to his mouth. He licked each finger where she’d held the crostini. “I don’t know which tastes better. I think it’s you,” he murmured. “And I want more. A lot more.”

  ***

  1968

  Bill sat at the table and waited for Clancy to continue. Instead of talking, Clancy stood, went to the refrigerator and took out a beer. “Want one?”

  Bill didn’t drink often, but cowboys didn’t pay much attention to him bein’ underage. This was the first time Clancy had offered him one at home though.

  “Sure.” He tried to sound nonchalant, while inside he wanted to scream at Clancy to tell him what was going on with his mama. Maybe that’s why he offered him a beer, to calm him down some.

  “You remember the first time we met Russ, right?”

  Bill nodded.

  “Neither of us had a good feeling about that man. And we were right.”

  “What did he do to her?” Bill felt as though the top of his head was going to blow off. His anger had reached a boiling point. If that man had laid a hand on his mama, he’d kill him.

  “It isn’t what you’re thinkin’. What he did brought more trouble on himself than it did on your mama and sister.”

  “Just tell me for Christ’s sake,” Bill stood and paced the kitchen floor.

  “The first time I was called down there, was because Russ ended up in jail, and your mama asked me to come and bail him out. She didn’t have the money to do it.”