John was in shock. “Who's this?” he asked jabbing his thumb toward the preteen.
“This is my son,” Cassidy explained. “Kevin.” She tapped Kevin on the shoulder. She even looked proud.
“Son?” John said as he rubbed his hand over his forehead. Then he blinked a few times. “I didn't know you had a—”
“Yeah,” Kevin said. “She got herself knocked up when she was fifteen and I was the surprise that came from that moment of teenage indiscretion.” He pulled on the front of his T-shirt.
“A kid,” John finished his sentence. Jesus, Cassidy and him had been close. Really close. She didn't tell John about a kid.
“Technically I'm not a kid,” Kevin answered. “Now a teenager.” He looked John up and down. “You sure you don't like Commander Adama better than Starbuck?” he asked.
“No.” John shook his head.
“Bad ass, reckless fighter pilot versus stable, level-headed leader,” Kevin continued. “You remind me more of Adama,” he remarked.
John needed to get to the bottom of this because he'd spent the last two years with Cassidy Cooper and he was sure she never mentioned a kid. “Hey, Kevin,” John said not taking his eyes off Cassidy. “I'd really like a root beer.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “Could you get me one while I talk with your mother for a moment?” The line looked long so hopefully it would take the boy a few minutes to order and pay.
“Since when do you drink root beer?” Cassidy asked after Kevin had walked away. “And wear fringe shirts?” She pulled on one of the strings hanging from his arm. Even after Kevin's scolding she was still in the mood to pick on John.
“Since when are you called mom?” He shot right back at her.
She shifted in her seat.
“I didn't know you had a son,” he told her.
“Well, I do,” she said sharply. “Don't worry, I won't tell Kevin you're a cop and blow your cover.” She rolled her eyes. “I know how important the job is to you.” She said this with a boat load of attitude, which just wasn't fair.
“That girl wasn't in danger,” John replied feeling defensive. He figured he'd attack her before she started accusing him of child abuse and a million other things.
“That's not true,” she countered. “By exposing you I was able to save that child from abuse. My God, John, they were planning on videotaping her naked.”
“They weren't going to put her in a movie and they were—,” John retorted angrily. Even though he missed Cassidy in every cell of his body he was still mad at her for blowing his cover, and he got shot in the leg. Yes, he'd studied forgiveness since taking up religion but actually practicing it was damn hard to do.
“You didn't know that,” she interrupted shifting in her seat.
He rubbed his forehead feeling more like the ‘take no prisoners’ cop Cassidy used to know and not the pious preacher he was now. John leaned forward, this argument was going nowhere and he needed to set some parameters with her. “Please don't identify me, no matter what you see or hear at the rodeo.”
“Don't get me involved in your business,” Cassidy countered. “I'm not here to fight the bad guys. I just want to ride bulls.” She folded her arms and nodded her chin firmly. Then she added, “And build a relationship with my son.”
John snorted, which he should not have done. It was rude and probably a form of bullying. But he loved it when she got firm like that and he couldn't believe he was in the middle of Oklahoma going toe to toe with Cassidy Cooper. In his mind a wet dream come true.
“What?” Cassidy demanded pulling her hands off the table. “That laugh isn't very charitable of you Pastor John.”
“Lying to me for two years wasn't very charitable of you,” he shot back.
Cassidy leaned forward, he could see every pore on her face. She had such clear skin. “Whatever you're doing,” she told him. “Don't involve me and don't involve my son,” she warned. “He seems to like you but you stay away from him.”
“Fine,” John said. He stood picking up his fliers.
Kevin came back with the root beer. “What?” Kevin moaned. “Did she bully you again?” he asked. “I was hoping we could discuss the meaning of the Cylons monotheistic religion in Battlestar.” Kevin held the root beer up. “Can robots really worship God?”
“Sorry,” John said. He glanced at Cassidy. “I've got to go. We’ll have to discuss Battlestar another time.” He searched his brain for a reason. “Monty Harper needs a prayer, he's still unconscious.” He fled the restaurant with the sound of laughter in his wake. Jesus Christ, they were probably all still laughing at him.
Chapter Three
“I don't think you should do this,” Kevin said. He was standing behind the chutes with Cassidy. Tradition dictated that the rider stay with her bull in the back pens. There were three cowgirls ahead of her, but Cassidy’s turn was coming up quickly. “I've got a bad feeling right here,” Kevin told her sounding a lot like Tony Soprano. Then he pointed at his rear end.
“Ha, ha,” Cassidy said. She rolled her eyes. “There's nothing more special than the sense of humor of a thirteen year old.” She looked at her watch. “Especially at eight in the morning.” That idiot Bret Bodner had moved the start time for the women up even earlier.
“I'm serious,” Kevin objected. “You could break your coccyx.”
“You don't even know what a coccyx is,” Cassidy countered, “or that it's very hard to break.” She wondered if this misplaced concern had something to do with him being embarrassed about her bull riding. If that was it, Kevin needed to understand his mother was a bull rider. Bull riders fell and got hurt. Current statistics indicated it was one in every three. Cassidy just didn't want to get injured too badly when her time came. A cracked rib would be fine or a sprained wrist she could manage.
“I do to know where it is,” Kevin protested. He pointed again at his tiny hind end. Then he shook it.
Cassidy laughed. She was getting ready to tell the boy he had a cute butt when John Risk interrupted, another man with a delightful derriere. But, hadn't she told John to stay away from her and her son? In typical John Risk fashion he completely ignored her suggestion.
“Did someone break their tail bone?” John asked as his eyes slid to Cassidy's backside. Without waiting for an answer he kept right on talking. “I know it hurts, maybe I can say a prayer.” Through all his babble he continued to stare at Cassidy's posterior. “There was a rider last week who landed on his butt and bounced into the wall. I thought for sure he'd broken his coccyx, but you know the Good Lord was looking out for that boy.” He clasped his hands together, but instead of tipping his chin up he kept his eyes on Cassidy. “That young man pulled himself off the ground and walked away. Bless his soul.”
Kevin tugged on Cassidy's sleeve. “Coccyx,” he whispered. “See everyone knows what it is, even the weirdo preacher.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“Then there was this bull rider who—” John started again oblivious to Kevin and Cassidy talking about him. While John pontificated Cassidy moved away. The man didn't need to keep looking at her like that. It wasn't appropriate, especially around the small audience of bull owners, riders, and groupies that was rapidly forming. Everyone liked a good wreck story even at eight o'clock in the morning.
Still hanging tight to Cassidy, Kevin tugged on her sleeve again while grimacing in embarrassment. After a quick assessment of the situation Cassidy realized he wasn't upset at her. It was John and his story. “Can I tell him to go away?” Kevin asked.
Cassidy nodded.
“Do you always talk so much?” the boy interrupted the minister sounding a lot like Caleb when he was carrying a grudge.
John blinked a few times. “What?”
“All this religious stuff,” Kevin pointed out. “It's really weird behind the chutes at a rodeo attended by less than twenty people.” He gestured toward the bulls surrounding them. “There's more animals here than humans.” He folded his arms over his
chest mimicking a favorite pose of Logan's.
Yes, Cassidy most definitely had left the boy alone for too long with her brothers. She did it because John needed her and she believed she was fighting the good fight, saving women and children from drugs, guns, and abuse. Now, she wasn’t so sure because she was beginning to realize her son needed her too, maybe even more.
“I'm a spiritual man,” John said pulling at the corners of his collar with righteousness. He looked uncomfortable, awkward, and just plain silly.
Cassidy had to look away. It was just too painful to not laugh. She didn't know who at the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms assigned John this job, but it wasn't a match for him. On the other hand, she was finding his ineptitude and awkwardness attractive in a Big Bang Theory sort of way. The righteousness she could do without.
A few minutes later a rider, named Maggie Taylor, entered the ring on a bull called Butter Cup. She was one bull ahead of Cassidy. It was time for Cassidy to forget about John Risk and get her head in the game. Her bull, Crosshairs, was moved to the waiting chute.
Oh gosh, he was big. Cassidy probably shouldn't have spoken of broken bones with Kevin because now she was sure she’d break a few. Yes, she was superstitious and really hoped the gold dollar she carried in her front pocket, which her father had given her when she was seven, would protect her.
“Remember, keep the wind at your back,” John said placing his hand on her shoulder. He had finally stopped preaching but hadn’t left. He was so close to Cassidy she felt his breath move the hair around her chin. Ignoring his proximity, she tried to find comfort in the Irish blessing. She glanced at his wrist. Like her gold coin, his talisman was a leather band his father had given him when he was five. It reassured her too.
“Keep the sun on your face,” Cassidy replied holding onto the fence. They'd said those same words to each other many times in the past before going into dangerous situations. Without warning their eyes collided. His flared while she tried to stop hers from doing the same. But who could control their eyes?
“And the rains fall soft upon your fields,” he continued. And together they finished the blessing, “Until we meet again may God hold you in the palm of his hand.”
Quoting that particular poem unnerved Cassidy. Passion and fear were pulsating through her veins. She turned away from John quickly. If she couldn’t control fear she’d try to get a handle on passion. She put her boot on the gate to climb up the rail.
But John stopped her.
“I've got to—” she started. She tipped her head toward the bull.
John took her helmet out of her hands.
“I need that—” she started again.
With his eyes still flaming in a way that made her extremely uncomfortable he put it on her head. Then he pushed her hair out of the way. He tightened the strap and buckled the chin piece. “Be safe,” he whispered. He did not release her of his gaze. She'd always loved the way his dark lashes lined the oval shape. Similar to eye liner but she knew John didn't wear any.
As she began to lose herself in the depths of John Risk something else grabbed her attention. Thankfully the damn chin strap was choking her. “It's too tight,” she gasped. She lifted her head and coughed. Then, she coughed again. Yes, she was overreacting but she needed something to get her mind off this man.
John tried to help.
She swatted at his hands. Now that she had come to her senses she knew all that eye gazing was probably bad luck too. Along with the coccyx conversation, Cassidy decided she was cursed. She pulled off her gloves and reached in her pocket. Rubbing the gold piece restored some semblance of calm for her.
Then Crosshair kicked at the chute and the few people in the stands were yelling for the next rider. Maggie had been bucked off after seven seconds. So close, a real bummer.
“She's gonna need a prayer preacher man,” Herbert Price told John looking like he hadn't gone to bed last night with bristle on his chin and the two teeth in his mouth covered in yellow stuff. “Only one lady has stayed on the beast this morning and she scored sixty-seven.” He spit in the hay. “We need divine intervention to make this rodeo right.”
Cassidy turned to Herbert. She had to say something to remind everyone skill had a lot to do with it too. “I remember someone telling me once that success has nothing to do with the hand of God, it's all hard work.” She eyed John. At the time John had been grilling her about their undercover back story, even spending a couple of hours figuring out their nonexistent wedding day. Yes, they planned the cake, band, and their first dance for an event that never happened. “I'm prepared because I've trained,” she told Herbert pushing the thought of never slow dancing to Jon Bon Jovi's Make a Memory with John Risk out of her mind. It could have been a lovely day.
“I think a prayer is a good idea,” John agreed not even acknowledging Cassidy's words. He reached for Herbert and Kevin's hands, most of the other's had dispersed once they realized the wreck story was over. “Kevin,” he directed, “hold my hand.”
Cassidy's son jumped. “What the frack?” he asked. He told Cassidy earlier it was a Battlestar Galactic curse. He walked around to the other side of the chute. “I don't hold hands with guys.”
Cassidy shook her head when John reached for her. “It's okay,” she told him, “I don't need a prayer.” And, if she was being honest with herself, she also knew deep inside she wasn’t worthy. It had a lot to do with the guilt she felt about leaving Kevin with her brothers. Plus, John was so far from having any connection with “a power above” Cassidy was scared his words could have the opposite effect. She'd end up in the hospital.
Whispering out of the side of her mouth, she confronted the rodeo preacher. “Didn’t my son just tell you to go away?”
He smiled. It was that new smile of John's. Warm and welcoming, even disarming which made her want to forget about getting rid of him. Cassidy found herself anxiously smiling back and if Kevin got wind of her reaction it would be embarrassing. But maybe her nerves were not because of this shiny, new John Risk, they were a result of her having to get on a bull in the next two minutes. Cassidy had practiced a lot, however, this was her first time in a real ring, with a real bull, and real people watching.
The announcer shouted Cassidy's name then added a plug for Caleb and Logan, trying anything to get the minuscule crowd excited. Among the cheers there were a few boos. Someone had the nerve to yell, “Bull riding is for men.”
Cassidy wanted to yell back, then don't come to the women's competition, but she didn't instead she climbed up the chute. She'd prove she was just as good as the men. As she threw her leg over to the other gate and hovered above the bull she glanced at Kevin. He didn't look happy with her and maybe that joke about breaking her coccyx was serious. She really wished she could be the kind of mom that stayed home, baked cookies, and did nothing embarrassing. But she wasn't. The adrenaline that was pumping through her veins at that moment was something she couldn't ignore.
She eased herself down onto the bull. Then she wrapped her right hand around her pink rope. John climbed up the rail and helped her pull it tighter. The animal shifted its weight. The smell of rosin and livestock invaded Cassidy’s senses as she took a deep breath. She glanced at Kevin again. The left corner of his mouth lifted slightly. That was all Cassidy needed, she nodded at her son as she lifted her left arm and gave the gate man her signal.
“Good luck,” John said as the bull charged out of the gate. Immediately Crosshairs swung his head to the right. Cassidy shifted her weight left and was able to keep her center of balance. With her left arm flapping in the air, she rode the next wave and the one after that. The twenty-five or so people that made up the crowd actually got to their feet.
Then the buzzer sounded. Cassidy had won the battle. She stayed on the entire eight seconds. While thinking of Kevin and coccyx’s she let go of her bull rope. One more buck and she landed gracefully in the dirt on her knees and not her backside. The kid should be happy, nothing in her perfo
rmance was mortifying or even close to embarrassing. She pulled herself to her feet, dusted the dirt off her pink chaps, and waved to the crowd.
Then, because she realized she could actually do this and do it well, she ripped her helmet off and threw it in the air. Except she couldn't celebrate for long, Crosshairs was mad and he was looking for her. Maybe he'd never been bested by a girl. She ran over to the fence and climbed up the rail just as he was getting ready to charge. Finally with ribbons of snot hanging from his nose the bull left the ring.
Cassidy jumped down. She took a bow to a chorus of boos and cheers. Ignoring the boos she took another bow. God, she felt good. She hadn't felt this good in a long time. The announcer was yelling something about woman versus beast and Cassidy pumped her fist in the air.
After she left the ring, but with the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, she looked for Kevin. She was hoping he'd run over and give her a hug but he didn't. He shuffled over with his hands in his pockets and eyes wide. His mouth was even shaped into a little circle.
“What did you think of that?” she asked him loudly. She wiped at the sweat dripping off her forehead. She wondered if her skill and talent had left him at a loss for words. Later she would remind him that nothing came easily without lots of dedication and practice.
However, to her dismay, his surprised expression quickly changed to embarrassed. He looked down at his boots and kicked the dirt. Wait, he had no right, she had won. He shouldn't be acting like that. But she didn't have a chance to set her son straight because John was standing next to her and she had a point to make with him.
“I told you I could ride.” She poked her finger at John's shoulder. “Bret Bodner's going to be one happy fellow and there wasn't a bikini in sight.”
The undercover cop scratched his head and studied her. “I guess you didn't need that prayer after all.” He stared at the score board. “You're in first place with a score of seventy-two.” He smiled proudly at her.
Cassidy squealed. Then she jumped up and down. She never did things like that but this was fun. She looked at her son. His eyes shifted around the area followed by an exaggerated roll that looked like his pupils had taken a vacation in his eyebrows.
The Bull Rider Wears Pink Page 4
