by B. J Daniels
He stared at her. She had to be kidding. “That wasn’t an offer, Chelsea. That—”
“—was a challenge,” she corrected. “A challenge to a woman who’s never been challenged, who’s soft and spoiled and pampered beyond hope.”
He winced. Damn but he regretted those words. “Look, about what I said, I’m sorry.”
She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head at him.
“I was completely out of line,” he went on, hoping that would be the end of it.
“So you admit you were wrong about me lasting a week on the rodeo circuit?” she asked.
He narrowed his gaze, alerted by the edge to her voice, and no doubt hesitated just a little too long.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, giving him a smile that chilled him to the bone. “Let’s make it a wager.”
“Now wait a minute—”
“Not money, since I have too much,” she said sarcastically. “I know! If I make a week on the circuit, then you have to admit you were wrong about me—and us.” She raised a hand to silence him. “If I don’t make the entire week, then I’ll admit everything you said about me was dead on and you’ll never see me again. Okay?”
“Hell, no.”
She raised a brow as if surprised he wouldn’t go along with a deal like that. “You slandered me and now you owe me the right to prove you wrong,” she said, that damned determination of hers burning in her eyes. “Unless you intend to go back on your word.”
He’d die first and he figured she knew it. But why would she want to spend a week on the circuit? Certainly not just to prove him wrong. Could Lloyd be right?
“Lloyd told me that you’re trying to find out who was rustling with Ray Dale ten years ago,” he said. “Have you lost your mind?”
She didn’t look happy about Lloyd telling him. “I intend to clear your name whether you like it or not. I do what I say I’m going to.” Unlike him, her tone implied.
“You and I know I didn’t rustle your cattle. Isn’t that good enough?”
“No, it’s not,” she said. “Don’t tell me you aren’t still angry about being unjustly accused.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Too bad. I’m angry for you.”
He pushed back his hat and looked at her. Man, had he forgotten what a hellcat she could be once she set her mind to something. “This is all about convincing your brother, isn’t it?”
“No,” she answered. “It’s about you and me. We never got the chance we deserved. Maybe it’s not too late.”
He definitely didn’t want to go there. “It wouldn’t work.”
She shrugged. “You were right about a lot of things you said about me the other night.”
“I’m sorry I said any of those things.”
“No,” she said. “I’ve never really had to go after what I wanted, never had to prove myself or get down in the dirt and fight. Maybe it’s high time.”
He pulled off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “You pick the damnedest times to put up a fight. Did it ever cross your mind that this…quest of yours might be dangerous?”
Her gaze was hot enough to burn him. “Very dangerous.”
He could see she wasn’t referring to finding the rustler. “I think you’re headed for one big disappointment—or worse.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ace Winters headed in their direction. Jack swore under his breath. As if he didn’t have enough trouble.
“Do we have a deal or not?” Chelsea asked. “Because one way or the other, I’m going to follow the circuit this week.”
“A week on the circuit isn’t going to prove anything,” he said, trying to keep his voice down so Ace didn’t hear.
“It will prove that you were wrong. At least about one thing.” She smiled. “Maybe more.”
He definitely didn’t like the gleam in her eyes.
“And who knows, I could get lucky and find my rustler,” she said.
“Mornin’,” Ace greeted them. “I see you got your car delivered all right,” he said to Chelsea. “Anytime you want to fly with me…” Ace gave her a suggestive grin. “Will you be staying at the hotel again tonight? I thought maybe we could have dinner.”
“Excuse me,” Jack said pointedly to Ace. “We were in the middle of a conversation here.”
Ace pretended to be offended. “Little testy this morning, aren’t you? Worried about that bull you’ve drawn?” He grinned. “You should be. See you at the rodeo.” He tipped his hat to Chelsea. “Let me know about dinner, darlin’,” he said, and sauntered off chuckling.
Jack swore under his breath again and turned his scowl on Chelsea. “If you think following the circuit means flying around with Ace Winters and staying in fancy hotels and eating at pricey restaurants, well, you’re sadly mistaken. It’s living in a tiny motor home, driving all night between rodeos, eating hot dogs at gas stations while the fuel tank is filling—”
“I accept.”
“What?” He stared at her, realizing belatedly that he’d just backed himself into a corner. There was only one way out. To admit he was wrong about everything. Better to admit that than even contemplate a week with her around.
“Never mind. I was wrong about everything.”
“I know, but someday you’re going to admit it—and mean it,” she said with a laugh. “I’m still spending the week on the circuit, Jack. And I’m still going to find out who was working with Ray Dale. And I’m still going to make up my mind whether there ever was anything between you and me—or still is. I guess I’ll be flying, and staying at fancy hotels and eating pricey food, though.” She turned as if going after Ace.
Jack couldn’t imagine anything worse than having Chelsea traveling with him for a week in the motor home—except her traveling with Ace Winters and looking for a rustler on her own. Damn. What choice did he have?
“You’d have to leave your car and your money and rough it with Sam and me in the motor home for the entire week,” he said, stopping her in her tracks.
She turned slowly and smiled. “No problem.”
He doubted that. “Understand, the only reason I’m doing this is because I’m worried about you getting yourself into trouble and I feel responsible since it involves me.”
“Of course,” she said with a big smile. “What other reason could there be?”
He already wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Again. But she was trying to clear his name. And someone needed to protect her from herself. Besides, it was only for a week, probably less once Chelsea realized what rodeo life was like.
“When do you plan to tell Sam?” she asked, eyeing him as if he might try to use his daughter to get out of this.
“Tell me what?”
He turned at the sound of Sam’s voice and grimaced. She wasn’t going to like this. He didn’t like it, either; but if he’d done things differently ten years ago, none of this would be happening now.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, reaching out to pull her to him. He gave her a smile, his hand on her shoulder.
His daughter looked suspicious. “Tell me what?”
Jack braced himself. “Chelsea thinks she’d like to learn more about the rodeo life. We have kind of a bet going that she won’t last a week on the circuit.”
Sam said nothing, just stood eyeing him, then Chelsea, waiting for the rest.
“Chelsea’s going to travel with us in the motor home for a while,” Jack said, and waited for Sam to erupt.
“All three of us?” Sam asked in surprise.
He nodded.
“How long is a while?”
“A week.”
“Where would she sleep?” she asked, eyes narrowed. “Well,” he said, a little flustered. “We’ll be driving all night between rodeos. But she can make up the dinette during the day and nap there.”
“What would she do?”
“Well…” He hadn’t given it any thought since he’d only just come up with this outrageous plan. “I
guess she’d help drive, cook, clean the motor home and—” he tried to think of as many vile things as he could that Chelsea would hate doing “—and she’d do the laundry and shop for groceries.”
Sam swung her gaze to Chelsea. “You want to do all that stuff?” she asked, sounding disbelieving.
Chelsea nodded, a steely determination in the set of her jaw. The woman didn’t have a clue what she’d gotten herself into.
Sam studied her for a long moment. “Okay.”
Jack stared at his daughter, waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he said, “That’s it?”
Sam shrugged. “You’re going to do it anyway, right? So, it’s okay with me.”
Chelsea looked more than relieved. Jack stared at Sam, wondering when the aliens would return his real daughter.
“Can I go play with Becky until lunch?” she asked, as if the whole subject bored her.
“Sure, I guess…. Be back by noon. On the dot.”
With a nod, Sam left. He watched her meet up with Becky at the side of the Harpers’ trailer, watched them put their heads together in hurried conversation, then look back toward him and Chelsea and the motor home. In no time, this would be all over the camp. What had he been thinking?
He glanced at Chelsea. She seemed a little pale to him, as if maybe she was just starting to realize what she’d gotten herself into. She didn’t know the half of it.
“You’re sure about this? It’s not too late to change your mind and go home.”
“Absolutely,” she said, lifting her perfect little chin into the air.
He swore under his breath. “Fine. You heard the deal. You cook, clean, do laundry and help drive. I give the orders. You screw up and you’re out of here.” With luck, she’d be too busy to look for rustlers.
Her gaze held his. “I guess we have a deal.” She held out her hand, her look daring him to seal the bargain.
He enveloped her hand in his own rough and callused one, his grip strong, unlike the grip he had on his sanity at just the thought of a week with this woman. He pretended not to notice the chemistry that flared between them. He could take this if she could.
She smiled as he released her hand, then turned on her heels and headed for her car.
Cursing himself, he watched her go. Why was she doing this? The woman had nothing to prove. Why put them both through this? To show him she wasn’t that spoiled little rich girl they both knew her to be? To find a rustler? Surely she was too smart to think she could convince him they still had a chance.
CHAPTER NINE
A WEEK IN Jack’s world. Chelsea looked at the tiny motor home, still in shock. While she’d planned to follow the rodeo at least as far as Oklahoma city so she could talk to Tucker McCray, she’d never dreamed Jack would actually suggest she travel with him and Sam.
“Get just what you need to bring,” Jack told her. “We don’t have much space so travel light.” His tone said he didn’t believe she could travel light any more than she could make a week on the circuit.
Oh, how she wanted to prove him wrong. And on so many counts.
But the reality of it petrified her. How could she stand being that close to Jack for an entire week? She would be putting everything on the line. Especially her feelings.
She could humiliate herself in so many ways. She might discover she wasn’t the woman she thought she was. Worse, she might find that Jack wasn’t the man she believed him to be. That he was a rustler with a knack for lying. That he didn’t still love her. Had never loved her. If she wasn’t careful, she could get her heart broken all over again and it wasn’t in great shape to begin with.
As she fished out her cell phone and called about having her car put in storage, she saw Terri Lyn sashay by. Oh yes, and there was Terri Lyn, the cute and capable barrel racer who not only lived in Jack’s world but excelled there. And who had designs on Jack.
Chelsea took a deep breath. You asked for this.
But not in a million years had she thought Jack would take her up on the deal. She glanced back toward the motor home and Jack. He stood watching her, his expression saying he expected her to jump in her car and hightail it back to the Wishing Tree. Fat chance.
She pulled her overnight bag from the trunk and started toward the motor home. Suddenly, it seemed as if everyone in the small encampment stopped what they were doing to stare, as if everyone knew she didn’t belong here.
“Here, I’ll take that,” Jack said, pulling the bag from her shoulder, seeming almost embarrassed by the attention they were getting.
“What will you tell them?” she asked.
“Nothing. It’s none of their business.”
As she trailed after him, she felt like an outsider, wondering if she could ever fit in with these people. It was the first time she’d ever worried about fitting in. It made her feel strangely vulnerable and more than a little afraid. She had to admit that so far, she’d led a protected life.
As she reached the motor home behind Jack, she turned, aware of being watched with more than just curiosity. Terri Lyn stood next to her pickup camper, her expression venomous. Yes, if Chelsea wanted Jack, it appeared she’d have to fight for him. But she’d already won the first round, right?
She dragged her gaze away from Terri Lyn to Jack’s broad shoulders retreating into his home. For a moment, she almost called him back with her bag.
But stubbornness propelled her forward. She followed Jack inside, closing the door firmly behind the onlookers. She’d tough out this week if it killed her.
“I hope you can fit all of your things in here,” Jack said as he swung open the closet door.
She stepped down the hall into the dim cool darkness, brushing against him as she tried to look past him to the closet.
He swore under his breath. From frustration? Or the jolt of electricity that arced between them? She wished she knew. Frowning, he motioned her into the bathroom so he could get past her. “You get the top drawer.”
She stepped into the small cubicle while he cleaned out the closet drawer. When he’d finished, she moved back into the narrow hallway, brushing against him again.
This time he froze, and glared at her. “You’re going to be the death of me.” Without another word, he turned and left, slamming the motor home door behind him.
Chelsea smiled. At least now she knew he was on the receiving end of that chemistry as well as the giving end.
* * *
JACK AVOIDED all the speculative glances that followed him as he stalked down the row of campers. Pulling his hat down low, he moved quickly, discouraging conversation.
He could see Terri Lyn’s camper ahead. Might as well get this over with, he told himself. But as he neared the rig, he saw that Terri Lyn wasn’t anywhere around. He stopped, jerked his hat from his head and wiped the arm of his shirtsleeve across his forehead, stringing together a few cuss words under his breath.
How had he gotten himself into this? He knew only too well. Him and his big mouth.
“Taking in boarders, are you?”
He turned to see his friend Rowdy Harper sitting in the shade of his awning. In the trees behind the trailer, Jack could hear Sam and Becky playing.
“You look like a man who could use a drink,” Rowdy said, holding up his coffee cup.
Jack shook his head but walked over to sit down in the shade.
“Wanna tell me about it?” Rowdy asked.
Jack grunted. He didn’t want his friend knowing what a damned fool he’d been.
“Or I can wait for the story circulating through the camp, the one Ace is telling,” Rowdy said with a smile.
With a curse, Jack started at the beginning, the day he drove up the long, tree-lined road to the Wishing Tree Ranch and saw Chelsea for the first time. He ended with the deal he’d just made with her. It was the first time he’d ever told anyone the whole story.
Rowdy listened without saying a word, just nodding occasionally. “Wow,” he said when Jack finished. “That’s quite the st
ory. And now she’s going to be traveling with you for a week?”
“It’s going to be hell.”
“Or something like that,” Rowdy said with a laugh.
“What she doesn’t get is that finding this rustler won’t change things between her and me. There is no chance for us.”
“None at all,” Rowdy agreed. “Even if you loved this woman.”
Jack caught the mocking tone and got to his feet. “Love has nothing to do with it.”
“Of course not.” Rowdy laughed. “I swear, Jack, sometimes you’re a bigger fool than even me.”
“I don’t know why I bother talking to you,” Jack snapped. “You’re no help at all.”
Rowdy was still chuckling when Jack saw Terri Lyn return to her camper. Without a word of explanation, he headed in her direction.
“Good luck,” Rowdy called after him, laughter in his voice.
Nice that he could amuse his friend, Jack thought.
Terri Lyn didn’t take the news of his traveling companion well. She slammed into her camper, leaving him standing in the dust. But he figured he owed her at least the truth, even if their relationship hadn’t progressed past a few kisses and casseroles.
The last thing he wanted to do was go back to the motor home, but it was too early to head to the arena. As he passed the Harpers’ trailer, he noted that Rowdy had gone inside, but his wife Abigail was rounding up Sam and Becky.
“Jack!” Abigail called to him.
Abigail supported Rowdy’s career as a rodeo announcer by home-schooling her eight-year-old daughter Becky while they were on the road during the rodeo season. She also helped Jack with Sam’s schoolwork when their schedules coincided. Jack had always admired her commitment because life on the road was hard on families. They’d made their marriage last and Rowdy had never seemed happier.
“I wanted to ask you and Chelsea for lunch,” Abigail said, surprising him.
He glanced at Sam. Lunch was obviously not her doing but it was clear she or Rowdy had told Abigail about Chelsea. He wondered how much more she knew? “That’s really nice of you, but—”
“If she’s going to be traveling with you this week, I’d like to meet her,” Abigail said.
