The Bull Rider Wears Pink

by Jeanine McAdam

  “But, we need to take responsibility for our lies,” he added. “We need to ask those we have lied to for forgiveness.” He put his hands out. “And...sometimes redemption doesn't come immediately.” He smiled shyly at the group. “But it does come.”

  Mrs. Goodwin raised her hand. “Now,” she started, “are we talking about lying about putting decaf coffee in a loved one’s cup even though he thinks it’s caffeinated?” She shook her head. “You know my George can't sleep at night and I know it has nothing to do with the cancer eating away at his body but everything to do with that caffeine he drinks all day.”

  John's face got red and his lips moved as he tried to form an answer. But Mrs. Goodwin didn't give him a chance. “Or are we talking about envy, greed, adultery, and murder.” She rubbed her hands down the front of her blouse.

  One of the South American's spoke up. “I think God would want you do what you're doing.” The other, who Cassidy knew to be Javier Rojas agreed with his friend. “You are helping him. If you help someone then a lie is good.” He turned to John for affirmation.

  John nodded as he shifted on his heels. Yes, John had lied to Cassidy to help others. And Cassidy had lied to Kevin to help others. When did it stop? Could a person find redemption from a helping lie? She had no idea. It was time for Cassidy to get back on a bull and look for glimpses of clarity during her eight seconds in the ring.

  * * * *

  That afternoon John watched Cassidy unload groceries from her car. He should have helped her but he didn't. He just wanted to watch her. She was built lean, with narrow hips and shoulders. Athletic would be the best way to describe her. Turned-on would be the best way to describe him.

  After she reached into her trunk and picked up four bags, two in each hand, she noticed him across the parking lot. He nodded, she didn't nod back. He wondered what she thought of his sermon that morning. Even though things got a little out of hand with the women he felt he did a pretty good job.

  With a heavy sigh and biceps flexing she turned away from him and walked to her motel room door. She kicked on it with her boot. “Kevin,” she yelled. “I'm out here with groceries.” She shot John another dirty look, but it wasn't really dirty because he thought her face was perfect. “They're sliding out of my hands,” she added when Kevin didn't open the door. “Soon your orange juice is going to be all over the pavement.”

  Finally Kevin opened the door.

  “What took you so long?” Cassidy complained as she pushed a bag into his hand.

  The teenager scratched his crotch with his other hand. “I was sleeping,” Kevin told her. John laughed. He remembered sleeping long hours when he was a teen.

  “If you ever have a girlfriend,” Cassidy advised her son, “don't do that around her.”

  “What?” the kid asked taking another bag from his mother. “Sleep?”

  “Nooooo. The other thing you did,” she moaned as she took one last dismissive glance at John. “With your other hand,” she added. Then she slammed the door.

  John pulled himself off his truck. He needed to talk to her but he didn't plan on giving her advice on how to tell her son to not scratch himself. Every guy needed that kind of gratification. He walked over to her late eighties red Camaro. After deciding she should get a new car, he pulled the last of the groceries out of the trunk and placed them in front of her door. Then he waited for her to come out.

  “I could have used your help about five minutes ago,” Cassidy told John after she opened the door and stared at him for a moment. The sound of the television flowed out of the room. “Didn't you see all those groceries I was carrying?” She closed the door and stepped outside.

  “Sorry,” he replied. “I didn't notice,” he added slowly. Which was a lie and she knew it. But it was a white lie and it was okay.

  He smiled. She didn't.

  Instead, she picked up the last of her bags and headed back inside. “See ya,” she told him over her shoulder.

  Yes, Cassidy Cooper could be tough when she wanted to. He wasn't sure what she was mad at him about. “Did you like my sermon?” he asked quickly and pathetically. He took a step toward her.

  “It was fine,” she said turning around. She gave him a scornful nod.

  What the hell did that mean? Good God, he'd worked hard on that sermon. Even waking up in the middle of the night to edit a few lines he felt weren't right. “What do you mean by fine?” he demanded to know. He shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't want to get defensive but— “I thought you were getting a little emotional while I spoke,” he added.

  “No, I wasn't.” She shut him down fast. Her face got red. There was an opening here, John just needed to figure out how to get through it.

  He studied her for a moment while she studied a planter with weeds growing out of it. “Did my words upset you?” he asked gently. He had a feeling she liked the kinder, more awkward and eager version of himself. John could feel his face flush. Jesus Christ, he never got embarrassed, he wasn't sure what was wrong with him but he had a feeling it had to do with the touchy feely approach he was using.

  Plus, Cassidy Cooper wasn't used to gentleness from John Risk. So of course, she shook her head, shutting John down again. Shit, she wasn't making this easy for him. John rubbed his chin. “I've got some Fig Newtons in my room.” He glanced at her door. “Do you think you could take a few moments away from your son and come over?”

  He knew she loved the chewy center. She called them her comfort food. After a particularly rough day with the bikers, she would go back to their room, eat an entire bag, and then they would have swinging from the chandeliers sex.

  “I don't want to fool around with you.” she said suddenly. “I've got my son and…” She blushed. She was thinking about those light fixtures too.

  “We can talk,” John interrupted trying to not sound too disappointed.

  She didn't look reassured because she knew John didn't have a very good track record when it came to talking. Cassidy had tried often to talk to him but at the time John was so caught up in his own head, he wouldn't let her. All he wanted to do was bury himself in her and forget his worries.

  “I promise,” he added.

  “I've got to ride tonight,” she told him, she glanced at her motel room door again. John could still hear the television. The kid was fine in there.

  “I just want to talk,” he said again, which everyone and their grandmother knew wasn't completely true. Another white lie but at least he had Mrs. Goodwin's seal of approval.

  “Why redemption?” she asked. She looked up into the sun at him. He stepped to the right and blocked the light. It would have been a lot more comfortable if they could have this conversation in his room. “Do you really believe what you're saying?”

  “Yes,” he replied quietly. “I do.” He grimaced. “I just haven't gotten there yet myself,” he admitted. He knew what she was thinking. Since he wasn't who he said he was, and he lied to his congregation the entire time he gave that sermon, he had no right to talk about redemption. Honestly, he planned to someday live by the words he exhorted.

  “So what do you hope redemption will bring you?” Cassidy prodded more. “When you find it?” They’d never had a conversation like this in L.A. Like he said before, they had sex.

  “Peace,” John whispered. He knew his words shocked her by the way she pulled her chin back. Her jaw also dropped open. Confused and vulnerable, very attractive emotions on Cassidy Cooper's beautiful face.

  “Well, people like you and me, we don't qualify for redemption,” Cassidy snapped. Her words surprising John just as much as his did her. Holy cow, they were quite the pair. Two people carrying around too many lies and just trying to get through the day justifying them.

  “Hey, Pastor John,” that idiot

  L.T. Lane yelled as he passed by. “How's it hanging?” Then he glanced at Cassidy. He made a motion with his hips which was disrespectful. “Can we please go to my room to finish this conversation?” John begged. Jesus, h
e was frustrated, some of these guys acted like such imbeciles. “Or I'm going to have to deck somebody and that wouldn't be very charitable of me especially on a Sunday.”

  Her eyes snapped to his—still suspicious.

  “Just talk,” he reassured her again. “I won't touch you,” he promised. He looked around. Another group of bull riders was coming out of the restaurant, but they hadn't noticed John and Cassidy yet. Logan was among them.

  Cassidy saw her brother too. “Okay,” she said. “First let me tell Kevin where I'm going.”

  Chapter Six

  John's room smelled like shaving cream and take out Chinese food. It was the same smell his house had back in L.A. John really liked moo shu chicken. Cassidy probably needed to introduce him to Rose Wang, Caleb’s mother-in-law. The woman made the best Chinese food in the world. And if she decided she liked you, she made it even better.

  John threw his keys on top of the television. With his hands on his hips, he looked around. “Sorry about the mess.” He leaned over and picked up a pair of socks. Then he kicked his boxer shorts under the bed and shoved jeans into his suitcase. Cassidy stood at the door watching him.

  They'd shared motel rooms plenty of times in the past. But this was different. Instead of using a rented room to relieve their tension in a mutually agreed upon physical way, they were going to talk. Cassidy fidgeted with her hair. She wasn't sure if she knew how to talk to John Risk.

  After John was done cleaning he turned to her. He rubbed his forehead. “Should we sit at the table or on the bed?” he asked formally. “It doesn't matter to me,” he added eagerly, “wherever you're more comfortable.”

  “The table,” Cassidy said firmly. The bed? Was the man out of his mind?

  John pushed a book called “Buddha in Blue Jeans” off the table. Then he picked up his laptop and closed it. After tossing a few paper coffee cups into the trash the table was clean.

  He sat down and gestured toward the chair across from him. “Please,” he requested politely. Slowly, Cassidy eased herself down.

  With his legs open, hands in his lap and a lock of hair falling down his face, John looked non-threatening, non-predatory and not even deceitful. Just a plain old nice guy, with a lovely smile and a need to please.

  Unnerved, Cassidy didn't place her purse on the floor, instead she settled it in her lap like a shield. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. He was staring at her and she didn't like it. She probably should have stayed in her room and watched Kevin watch television.

  “What?” she whined. She didn't mean to whine but it wasn't entirely her fault. If he brought her to his room to talk, why wasn't he talking? She glanced at the bed. It was getting harder to stay focused because this respectful version of John was making her even more attracted to him, plus he picked up his dirty clothes, he never did that before.

  John placed one hand on the table and shifted his shoulders. “If you don't think you can find redemption?” he asked stiffly. “What about me?” He was referring to what she said earlier in the parking lot. “I did a lot worse things than you.” He looked sad.

  Cassidy looked around. She didn't know John felt bad about the work. He was always stoked when he discovered evidence or broke up a drug deal. She also didn't know he had started hanging up his bath towel. She could see it through the bathroom door folded nicely on the rack.

  “You don't deserve forgiveness either,” she told him. Yes, she sounded harsh but she was struggling with this. “Maybe the bad things we did were for the greater good,” she added, “but they were still bad.”

  For example, forcing gang members to turn into rats by using family members as leverage. Bear in mind, the people John was manipulating were murderers, drug dealers, and money launderers however, their wives and children were not.

  “We all deserve forgiveness,” he said quietly as he leaned over and lifted her purse off her lap. “That's what I believe now.” He put it on the floor next to her chair. “Every religion I've studied,” he gestured toward a stack of books on the nightstand. Islam for Dummies sat on top of a Rick Warren book. “Believes in redemption,” he added softly.

  “No,” Cassidy replied. “We don't deserve it.” She flipped her hand back and forth between his chest and hers. Honestly, she didn't mean for him to look at her chest but he did anyway. “We did too many bad things.” Good God, John had always worshipped her small breasts and she loved him for loving them. Especially in L.A. with all those silicone enhanced women.

  “What did you do that was bad?” He demanded to be told. “There are a number of drug dealers, gun runners, and pimps behind bars because of your work and you saved that girl.” He amended his words. “Yes, it was on my back but you still saved her.”

  “I'm not talking about that,” Cassidy insisted even though he was finally acknowledging that Cassidy was right when she intervened in that situation. But still, she reached for her purse. She tried to pick it up but he held on to the strap on the other side...John always held on. He was one of the most stubborn men she knew besides her brother. Dammit, that was another thing she liked about him.

  “What are you talking about then?” he asked. His forehead rolled up.

  “Nothing,” Cassidy replied. She shook her head and took a grab at her bag again. “It's personal,” she explained after a moment. She added, “And...it's something I don't want you to know about.” She tried to sound like Caleb when he was in a peevish mood, everyone stayed away—except someone like John.

  Maybe it had to do with his divinity training or maybe it was because he finally took her advice and decided to join the human race, but John wasn't going to leave her alone until he figured out what she meant. For a moment he looked puzzled, then he didn't. The man was not stupid. “This lack of forgiveness has something to do with your kid,” he suggested. “Doesn't it?” Then he smiled like the preacher he was playing because he knew he was right.

  Cassidy shook her head, which John took as affirmation of his theory. He slapped his hand on his thigh and yelled out. “Holy hell I'm good.” He smiled that goofy smile again. “I know you think I'm not good with this touchy feely stuff but I've changed.” He leaned in closer to her. “So tell me what’s happening with the kid. I promise I will listen.”

  “His name is Kevin,” Cassidy reminded him peevishly. Okay, she was still having a hard time getting her mind around John Risk taking such an enthusiastic interest in her problems, her family or even in her life.

  John ignored her and gestured with his hand for her to talk.

  “You wouldn't care if I told you,” she countered. Honestly, it wasn't worth it to tell John about her heartache. The last time she told him her feelings, he fell asleep on the couch and didn’t wake up until eight the next morning.

  “I've changed,” John argued gently. “After you left L.A., I started watching reruns of Oprah in the afternoons while my leg healed.” He blew out air between his teeth. “That woman is all about validating and listening.”

  Did every man in her life watch Oprah? Along with Logan and Caleb, John could start a men's Oprah club. “You're enlightened,” Cassidy commented dryly.

  “I wouldn't call myself the Dalai Lama,” he replied putting his hands up. “But I'm slightly enlightened.” He grinned. “Come on,” he encouraged her, “spill the beans.”

  “Okay,” Cassidy conceded. She took a breath. Honestly, she didn't have anything to lose. If he shut her down, they wouldn't have to go through this exercise again. “I'm a horrible mother,” she told him.

  “No, you’re not horrible mother,” he shot right back.

  Right, that was the other possibility. He'd say something stupid thinking he was being helpful. She shouldn't have brought up any of this with him. Forget her purse. There wasn't much money in it and she'd get it from him another time. She stood to leave, John reached for her arm.

  “Okay, okay,” he panted. “I didn't handle that very well. I'm supposed to say…” he scratched his head as he muttered under his
breath, “Holy cow arresting a resisting drug dealer is much easier than listening to someone you love talk about their problems.”

  What? Did he just say love? Cassidy could feel her face contort into something not very attractive. But she needed to be given a break because the word love expressed by John Risk was never something she thought she'd hear, even in passing. John loved finding the bad guys and throwing them in jail, not another person.

  “What?” she whispered. She needed to clarify because he didn't mean it the way he said it. He was just playing with her. After all the man was a master at deceit.

  “Love,” he said firmly. “Yes, I love you, I'll own up to it.” He pulled her over to the bed and made her sit down. “What the hell do you think I’m doing here dressed like this and acting like an idiot?” He gestured toward his chest. “I wanted to be near you, I wanted to find you.”

  Near her? Find her? Cassidy didn’t know how to interpret his words. Plus, the bed smelled like him which wasn’t helping with her ability to think clearly. Feeling overwhelmed Cassidy knew she needed a moment so she turned to the wall.

  As she looked at a long crack in the plaster she decided his words were probably a pitiful attempt on his part at being a human being. He didn't mean he loved, loved her, he was just saying it to keep her in his room and get naked with her.

  John reached for her hands. “Can you give me a break here?” he pleaded, “I'm trying.” He wrapped his fingers around her chin and turned her toward him.

  Cassidy looked at her lap. If she gazed into his blue eyes, all would be lost. With a shake of her head she reminded herself that she didn’t want to sleep with him because their relationship never had an emotional connection, it wasn’t one of friendship and compassion. It was a means to an end both professionally and personally and she wasn’t looking for that anymore.