by Kadie Scott
Maybe this woman was a possibility?
As Will watched, two other women made their runs. This particular venue had a longer barrel racing course, but both women made competitive times with a 17.65 second and 17.60 second runs consecutively. Mischief was going to have to ride hard to place.
He glanced over to see if the horse was almost up. With a jerk, he stood up straighter, trying to get a better look at Mischief’s rider who was now facing toward him. He’d only seen the back of her a minute ago, paying more attention to the horse.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. More than mere interest about Mischief stirred.
The announcer’s voice came over the loud speakers. “Next up, we have Rusty Walker. Rusty’s riding Mischief Maker, owned and trained by Holly Hill out of High Hill Ranch in La Colina, Texas. Rusty has taken over the reins in both training and riding this five-year-old quarter horse. Let’s see how she does tonight.”
With a barely-there signal, Rusty sent Mischief into a gallop. Will tuned out the commentator, the crowds, everything as he watched horse and rider with a single-minded concentration.
Moving so fast, they were almost a blur, they reached the first barrel. The soft dirt flew up as Mischief bent his body around Rusty’s leg, turning tightly around the obstacle, as close as they could get without touching it. They popped up and flew toward the next barrel. A smooth lead change, then they hit the second barrel. Mischief almost appeared to pivot on his inside hind leg, his turn was so precise.
Rusty sat fairly quiet in the saddle, guiding her mount more with her legs than her hands, letting him do the job he’d been trained for. She spurred him on toward the third barrel, around it, then rode straight back, Rusty’s braid flew out behind her and her legs practically jumped off the horse’s sides as she used her heels to urge him to faster speeds. As soon as they were past the line, she reined him in to a sharp stop.
The announcer came on almost immediately. “And she does it, folks. Rusty’s time is 17.40, moving her into first place. That was the winning time last year. The other riders are going to have to stretch it to beat her.”
The crowd clapped and cheered. With a grin, Rusty waved to them, acknowledging their support for what had been a masterful ride. Holly had made a fantastic choice when she’d picked this woman to ride her horse. No question Rusty Walker knew exactly what she was doing.
She trotted Mischief back through the gate. Will hopped down from the fence and headed her way. Before he caught up to her, she dismounted and lead Mischief back the way she’d come earlier, right toward him.
“Nice ride, Rusty,” another dark-haired girl getting ready to make her own run called just as Rusty was drawing up to where Will waited.
She turned and waved. “Thanks, Maggie. Go get ’em.”
Rusty was smiling when she turned back around, a genuine smile, and Will could see a pair of deep-set dimples that were downright sexy. Again, that distinct stirring of interest ignited inside him.
“Ma’am?” he called.
Mischief turned his head at the sound of a familiar voice only to be turned back forward by a light tug on the reins.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” Will tried again as he got closer.
Deep brown eyes snapped to his and widened in surprised recognition, at least, he thought that might be recognition. Then the surprise was replaced by a blank wall of cold indifference. The smile vanished, replaced by lips closed tight. She kept walking.
Strangely amused by her attitude toward a total stranger, Will ignored the chill in the summer air, fell in step with her, and held out a hand. “I figured I should introduce myself. I’m—”
“Someone I have absolutely no interest in knowing.” She glanced at the hand he still held out, but didn’t take it, and didn’t stop walking.
Will dropped his arm to his side. “I don’t think you understand. I’m—”
“Not getting it. I’m not interested. Quit while you still have some pride, buddy.”
Wow. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been shut down that harshly, and he wasn’t even asking her out. All he’d wanted to do was share his relationship to Holly since Rusty was riding her horse.
He held up his hands in surrender. “All right. Great run. Enjoy the rest of the rodeo.”
He tipped his hat and stopped walking, letting her move on alone, Mischief following along like the lamb he was, though the horse turned his head to peer at Will a few times in a confused horse kind of way.
Will ignored the animal, his gaze pulled to Rusty’s retreating figure and the sway of her hips. Despite her total rejection, desire tightened in his gut, which brought on a frown.
What was wrong with him? What kind of guy found a woman attractive who’d effectively slammed the door in his face before she was even asked? Besides, it wasn’t like him to respond so immediately to a pretty woman. Usually, the personality was what attracted him.
A low chuckle had him turning to find Chase not far away. Will raised his eyebrows in question.
“You’re not the only one to receive that treatment,” Chase commented.
“Yeah?”
They both gazed after Rusty’s retreating form.
“Yeah,” Chase said. “Her father is Garrett Walker, who’s a son of a bitch. Guess that apple didn’t fall far from the tree. She’s a real ball breaker, that one.”
Will cocked his head, still watching as she disappeared around a trailer. While she’d been abrupt to the point of rudeness, he didn’t get the feeling that she was a bitch, as Chase implied. Maybe seeing her dancing in her car and the grin she’d initially sent him when discovered had skewed his view.
“I won’t take it personal, then,” was all he said to the cowboy.
He turned back to the arena, needing to meet up with Chris and Jordan and start thinking about the bulls.
Besides, he doubted he’d see her again after this week, and he was here to work. Not to mention the meeting he had set up with her father for later in the week.
He hadn’t missed Chase’s casual comment about Garrett Walker, a disposition Will intended to take into consideration, which meant not being interested in the daughter. Despite an edge of disappointment lining his mood—one which baffled him anyway—no way would he blow the opportunity.
Hitting on a potential partner’s daughter, especially when she’d already blow him off, fell under the category of just plain stupid. Too bad, though.
Chapter Two
“Awesome,” Rusty breathed with sarcastic irritation as she read the text on her phone screen.
She was sitting alone at one of the local bars, nursing a whiskey and Coke, and generally ignoring everyone else in there. She had been waiting for Maggie to join her, but apparently that was off now. Some kind of issue with her horse, so Rusty couldn’t blame her. Her own animals were like family to her, and if there was ever anything wrong with them, she wouldn’t be at a bar. That was for dang sure.
Sucks for me, though.
She wouldn’t be in this place if it weren’t for Maggie. Rusty’d gone out to eat with Travis and Dave, her father’s foreman and top hand who did most of the work with their animals at the smaller events. She was here as a figurehead only, although she intended to change that when she took over the ranch one day.
She’d tried to ditch both men to meet up with Maggie, but they were having none of it. After ditching them last night, they had orders from on high not to let her out of their sight. Despite being twenty-five years old, her father insisted she didn’t go to bars or other social events without her “bodyguards.” Like she’d ever pick up a random guy in a place like this. Especially a rodeo cowboy.
With a sigh, Rusty pushed the ice in her drink around with the little red straw the bartender had stuck in it. Classic George Straight blared over the speakers loud enough to be heard over the voices of the people packed inside, some trailing outside to the stools that overlooked the river walk. She watched in the reflection of the mirror behind the
bar as men and women chatted, flirted, and started the age-old dance that led to hooking up.
For some strange reason, watching others flirt made her think about the guy at the rodeo tonight. The one who’d caught her singing in her truck yesterday. He’d worn a goofy T-shirt that showed a roll of duct tape with the words “My Toolkit” that made her secretly chuckle. No way was she admitting to being hyperaware of the fact he’d watched her ride. She’d caught sight of him before her event.
Rusty made a face like sucking on a sour lemon.
If she was totally honest with herself, the time she and Mischief put up today maybe had a little bit to do with showing off. For him. A touch of guilt stirred in her belly at her behavior afterward. She’d been an out-and-out bitch. No other word for it. Still, better that than encouraging something that would never happen.
Despite her admittedly rude declaration that she wasn’t remotely interested, she’d still had to push down an unusual pang of regret at shutting him down. A small part of her wouldn’t mind tangling with him. She’d also managed to pick up that his name was Will. One of the other cowboys called it as she’d snuck by later on.
But the fact that she’d been intrigued enough to pay attention had her worried, so she’d crushed the impulse to find out more. She didn’t want to know.
“Hey.”
Rusty caught a whiff of cigarette smoke hanging around the man who’d taken the stool beside her. She didn’t bother to look over, keeping her eyes on her drink hoping he’d get the hint and go away.
No such luck.
He leaned forward and raised his voice. “Hey there, red.”
She turned her head and could now see he was swaying slightly. He gave a slow blink, trying to focus, obviously drunk. Great. She didn’t acknowledge the guy in any other way, but apparently looking at him was enough encouragement.
“Wanna drink?”
She held up her glass. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“My treat when you’re done with that.”
“I’m leaving when I’m done with this.” Maybe sooner at this rate.
He reached out and tugged on her arm. “Now don’t be like that.”
Rusty sighed. “I’m not interested.” She couldn’t be clearer than that.
The guy, who was good-looking enough—tall, blond, strong chin, and nice eyes—bristled visibly.
He straightened his back as his eyebrows lowered. “All I did was offer to buy you a drink.”
She turned back to the one she already had. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“But—”
“Move along.” She waved a hand as though shooing a fly.
He stood suddenly, his stool scraping along the wooden floor with a screech of protest loud enough to be heard over the music and chatter. In the mirror, several heads turned in their direction. Travis and Dave stood up, ready to intervene, but before they could do anything, and even before the jerk could say anything else, let alone touch her, a large hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around in her seat.
“Sorry I’m late, baby,” the newcomer murmured.
Rusty only had time to register the new player in the scene was that Will guy with the blue, blue eyes before he leaned forward and kissed her.
She gave a little squeak of protest and he released her lips immediately. The sudden absence of warmth left her feeling slightly bereft, which was crazy since he’d barley brushed his lips across hers.
Before she could process what just happened, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Follow along and we’ll get rid of this guy.”
Realizing he was now standing between her legs, she hid the shiver sliding down her spine by giving him a tiny nod. He pulled back and smiled down into her eyes. The blue of his eyes, up close like this, was nothing short of startling. The irises were rimmed in black which somehow made the blue even bluer. She could drown in those depths, like falling into the sky, or the deepest of oceans. She had the strangest urge to trace the cleft in his chin.
“Miss me?” he asked, loud enough for the ass on the other stool to hear.
“Of course,” she purred.
Some small part of her brain registered that wasn’t exactly a lie. She’d spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking about him given their two extremely brief shared moments. They hadn’t even been properly introduced or exchanged more than a handful of words.
“Me too,” he said as he lowered his lips to hers again.
The moment their lips touched, she was a goner. Sensation rushed through her body, fizzing through her blood with little sparks. She was so attuned to him, she felt every shift, every breath. With a sigh, she lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck and drawing him in closer. His lips moved over hers in a lazy exploration that left her breathless, and suddenly she was wishing he’d meant it—that he really had missed her.
His tongue darted out, asking for and receiving entrance to her mouth. The second she granted it, he deepened the kiss, swirling his tongue with hers, nipping at her lips. Rusty gave a little moan. She vaguely registered the jerk behind her swear at them before he sloped off, but she was too wrapped up in Will and didn’t give a damn.
She held on to enough of her wits to keep herself from wrapping her legs around him or rubbing against him like a cat in heat. They were in a very public place. The kiss alone was likely to get back to her father—especially with her watch dogs right there. And, although her sense of self-preservation seemed to have abandoned her for the moment, it was still engrained enough to keep her from making a complete fool of herself.
Will finally pulled back, although the action seemed reluctant, like he’d had to make himself stop. She blinked up at him as tried to ignore how he’d let go but put his hands on the bar at her back, caging her in.
Taking a deep breath, she forced sanity to return. Play it cool, girl.
She quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I should thank you… or slap you.”
His slow grin tripped her up even as a low chuckle resonated with nerves already on high alert. She liked the sound.
“Whatever you decide to do, might be best if you did it outside.” He glanced over his shoulder, presumably for the drunk. “If I walk away now, he’ll only come back.” He turned back, a question in his eyes.
Rusty wrinkled her nose. “Good point.”
She half-turned and, slipping her hand into her bra, where she kept cash and her license when she went out, she tossed some money on the bar. She gave Travis and Dave a little head nod. “Meet you outside,” she mouthed.
Then she glanced up at Will, who’d at least stepped back, giving her some space. A long way up. She was petite at a little over five foot, and he towered above her. If she had to guess she’d put his height somewhere around six-three.
She bit back a chuckle as she registered yet another goofy T-shirt. This one read “Always give 100% unless you’re donating blood.”
He offered her his arm. “May I escort you to your car, ma’am?” he asked in a soft drawl with a gallantry that Southern gentlemen still seemed to display these days.
But sanity was returning to her kiss-addled mind, and she didn’t want him to think any of the last few minutes was going to lead anywhere. He must’ve seen her hesitation because he stepped closer, leaning in to murmur in her ear, “He’s still watching.”
With a huff of annoyance, she reached out to take Will’s arm, not even bothering to look around to check if that was true. Will somehow didn’t strike her as the type to lie just to get her alone.
Of course, she’d been wrong before.
They made their way past the few tables between them and the door. The decrease in noise when they finally stepped outside was a blessed relief. A handful of tourists still wandered the street, pausing in front of shop windows, but the crowds had dropped quite a bit since earlier. Without talking about it, she and Will turned to their left to make their way to an alley that would lead back to the parking area. Once they turned down it, Will surprised h
er by gently letting her arm go.
“Rusty!” Dave’s voice brought them both to a halt.
Travis and Dave quickly caught up to them. “What was going on in there?” Travis asked, suspicion lowering his brows.
Rusty opened her mouth to explain, but stopped when Will held up his hands. “I was helping the lady get rid of a drunk.”
Before she could say or do anything more, he tipped his Stetson at her. “Ma’am.” He gave her babysitters a brief nod then walked off. Strolled more like, as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
And, strangely, her annoyance followed him down the street.
How dare he give her the most stirring kiss she’d had in a long, long while, then walk away like it hadn’t remotely affected him? Rusty realized exactly how contrary that sounded, even if it was just in her head. With a twitch of her shoulders, she tried to forget about the entire encounter as effectively as he had.
Glancing up she caught Travis’s frown. “What?” she asked.
“Since when do you kiss men in bars?” he demanded.
“Who him?” She stuck her thumb in the direction Will had gone in. “That was nothing. Exactly what he said. He was helping me out of a sticky spot.”
Dave nodded, seeming to accept that explanation. “I guess you know him through Holly, huh?”
Now it was Rusty’s turn to look confused. “Holly Hill?” she asked. What the hell did the owner of her barrel horse, Mischief Maker, have to do with any of this?
“You know who that is, don’t you?”
Rusty shifted on her feet. “We haven’t really been introduced.”
The two men exchanged a glance. She couldn’t tell quite what message passed between them.
“That’s Williams Hill.”
“Holly’s husband?” she screeched.
And he’d just been kissing her? That rat bastard.
“Shhh,” Dave hissed, a finger at his lips. “No. Her brother-in-law.”
