by Marin Thomas
“When should I be ready?” The question slipped from her mouth in a satisfied sigh.
“Six-thirty.” Beau nodded to Karla then left the diner.
“Things are moving right along between you and Beau,” Karla said.
Oh, joy. With Karla in charge of the diner tomorrow, Sierra and Beau would be the topic of conversation among the Roundup regulars.
* * *
“YOU SURE YOU don’t want something to eat or drink?” Beau asked.
“No, thanks. I’m fine.” If he bugged her about food one more time Sierra would smack him. She and Beau sat in the stands at the Three Forks Rodeo, watching the barrel-racing event. At least his former girlfriend wasn’t competing—that took some of the sting out of Beau’s hovering.
Was it her imagination or had he morphed into a cowboy hen? All day he’d stood too close or gripped her elbow at the oddest times as if expecting her to suddenly walk into a wall. As she’d feared, learning about her eye disease had made Beau more vigilant around her. The last thing she wanted was to be smothered.
“Isn’t it time for you to ride?” Bull riding was the final event of the rodeo—thank God, because she needed a little breathing room before they drove back to Roundup.
He leaned close and whispered, “Can’t leave without my good luck kiss.”
As if she could stop herself… Sierra brushed her lips across his. “Good luck.” And please don’t get hurt.
Her gaze followed Beau out of the stands. There was a huge part of her that yearned to latch on to him as if she hadn’t a care in the world, but she doubted he’d be willing to live in the moment with her as she tackled the items on her bucket list. As much as she wanted to be with Beau, he was a take-charge kind of guy who’d only get in the way of her goals.
“Ladies and gents, it’s time to kick off America’s most extreme sport—bull ridin’!”
The raucous noise that followed the announcer’s spiel drowned out Sierra’s introspection and she turned her attention to the JumboTron. Images of past bull rides flashed across the screen while the Garth Brooks song about the sport of rodeo blasted through the arena.
“This afternoon we’ve got eight foolhardy cowboys ready to do battle with the meanest critters on God’s green earth.”
The fans stomped their boots on the metal bleachers, tugging a smile from Sierra—she enjoyed watching the crowd as much as she did the actual events. Switching her attention to the cowboy-ready area, she searched for Beau—not an easy task for her eyes when all the cowboys wore colored shirts that blurred together in a kaleidoscope of bright hues. She’d asked Beau why none of the men wore yellow and he’d told her that yellow was the color of cowards. Cowboys and their kooky superstitions.
When Sierra noticed Beau climbing onto the back of a bull, she edged forward in her seat and sent up a silent prayer for his safety.
“Turn your attention to gate six and Beau Adams from Roundup, Montana. After a slow start earlier in the year, this cowboy’s had a steady run of good luck the past few months. We’ll see if Adams has what it takes to tame a bull called Tankulicious. Tank hails from the Norton Palmer Ranch in Nebraska.”
Beau slipped in his mouth guard. His teeth clanked together more times in eight seconds than a hockey player’s did during an entire game and if he intended to kiss Sierra again, he didn’t want to damage his pucker. Next, he adjusted his Kevlar vest then shoved his hat down on his head. A cowboy hat might not look like much protection but a good quality hat could mean the difference between a bruise and a gash.
Closing his eyes, Beau emptied his mind of all thoughts except Tank. Bull riding was twenty percent talent and eighty percent mental toughness. Ready as he’d ever be, he leaned over the bull’s right shoulder, lifted his arm in the air and braced for combat.
The chute door opened and Tank barreled into the arena like a derailed freight train. Beau was prepared for the first buck, lunging forward over the bull’s shoulders. Focusing on Tank’s momentum, Beau allowed the bull to guide him into the next kick. Like a ballroom dance, Tank led and Beau followed. Neither beast nor man raised the white flag as seconds ticked off the clock. When Beau heard the buzzer, his mind switched gears and he waited for an opening to dismount.
Tank continued to buck and spin, but Beau hung on, praying the bull wouldn’t yank his arm from the socket. Finally, Tank’s engine sputtered and Beau took advantage of the bull’s letdown. Releasing his hold on the rope, he used Tank as a springboard and launched himself through the air. He hit the ground on all fours and his hat popped off his head.
The bullfighters moved in, escorting Tank from the arena. Beau grabbed his hat and saluted the cheering crowd then blew a kiss toward the stands where Sierra sat. The camera replayed his actions on the JumboTron before turning the lens on the blushing redhead.
“There you have it, folks!” the announcer shouted. “Beau Adams becomes the first cowboy this season to ride Tankulicious to eight!”
“Don’t get a big head, Adams.” Royce slapped Beau’s back. The ranch hand had driven the stock trailer to the rodeo, and Beau and Sierra had followed in Beau’s truck.
“I ripped that ride, didn’t I?” The more wins Beau tucked under his belt before the Bash in November, the more confident he’d feel going into the event. He stuffed his gear into his bag and handed it to Royce. “Will you keep an eye on this for me? I’m going into the stands to get Sierra.”
“Sure.”
Beau tipped his hat to the fans who acknowledged his performance as he worked his way through the rows to Sierra’s seat. When he reached her, he whispered, “Come with me.” Taking her by the hand Beau walked out to the concourse, then pulled Sierra aside and kissed her.
Mmm…she tasted like honey. He backed her into a dark corner that afforded them more privacy. Even though the shadows hid them from rodeo fans he kept the kiss PG-rated—until Sierra melted against him and he captured her moan in his mouth. Her eagerness sucked him in and he deepened their embrace. Someone whistled and Sierra ended the kiss, burying her face against his neck.
Her lips nuzzled his skin, and Beau imagined waking each morning with her cuddled in his arms, limbs entwined, their quiet breathing filling the room. Eventually, they’d have to start their day and open their eyes—one pair seeing…the other pair left in the dark.
The abrupt thought startled Beau and he stepped back. Cheers from the fans and the announcer’s voice faded into the background as Sierra threaded her fingers through his hair, coaxing him to push aside thoughts of the future and focus on the here and now.
“That was some congratulatory kiss,” he murmured.
“Better than others you’ve received, I hope?”
“What others?”
She playfully punched his arm.
“How would you like to watch the last few bull rides down by the chutes?”
“I’d love to see the action up close,” she said.
Holding Sierra’s hand, Beau led her through the throng of competitors in the cowboy-ready area. He tightened his grip, guiding her around a maze of cowboy gear bags and saddles on the ground. When they reached Bushwhacker, he kept Sierra close at his side.
“Beau,” she whispered. “You’re squeezing too hard.”
“Sorry.” He relaxed his arm around her. “Sometimes Bushwhacker kicks out in the chute.” Instead of appreciating his concern, Sierra moved away from him.
Beau didn’t have time to figure out what he’d done to deserve her cold shoulder when the chute door opened and Bushwhacker exploded into the arena. Just as in the previous rodeo, the bull gave his best effort and the cowboy went airborne at the three-second mark. Two rides later, Back Bender had the same success in the arena. Now it was time to see what Asteroid would do in his first rodeo.
Asteroid left the chute running. Buck, Asteroid, buck. The bull ducked to the right so suddenly that the cowboy landed on his rump in the dirt.
“Crap,” Beau grumbled.
“What happened?”
Sierra stood on tiptoe to gain a better view of the arena.
“Asteroid was a dink.”
“What’s that?”
“A dink is a bull that doesn’t buck.”
Royce approached Beau. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us with Asteroid.”
“Dad won’t be happy when he hears about his performance.” Beau turned to Sierra. “I need to help Royce load the bulls once they settle down.”
“That’s fine. I don’t mind waiting.”
Cowboys gathered up their gear while rodeo workers began to tear down the chutes and makeshift holding pens. Fifty yards away, a shoving match between two cowboys drew the attention of rodeo officials who broke up the fight. The cowboy-ready area was no place for a lady. “You’d better wait in the stands.”
Sierra scowled.
Okay, so she didn’t care to be told what to do. “Things get crazy down here after the rodeo, and I don’t want you to get caught in the cross fire.”
Her blue eyes turned icy. “See you later then.”
Before Beau had a chance to escort her back to her seat, she stomped off. He watched her retreat, wincing when her foot tangled with the handle of an equipment bag. Thanks to the quick reflexes of a nearby cowboy who steadied Sierra, she was spared a possible injury from an embarrassing fall.
Stubborn woman.
Chapter Nine
Beau slowed the truck as he drove down Main Street in Roundup. He pulled into the lot behind the diner then turned off the engine. “Thanks for coming along today.” He stared longingly at the back door of the building, hoping Sierra would invite him inside for a late-night coffee.
She grappled for the door handle. “Congratulations on winning another buckle.”
He didn’t care about the buckle. Why was Sierra suddenly eager to end their day? Was she still upset with him for asking her to sit in the stands while he loaded the bulls? He hopped out of the truck, rounded the hood and opened the passenger door. He offered his hand but she ignored his help and walked toward the fire escape. Damn. He didn’t want to end the day on a sour note. He trailed her up the stairs and waited as she opened the apartment door, then stepped inside and gasped.
Beau’s first thought was that a burglar had broken in. Bracing for a confrontation, he pushed past Sierra. The intruder turned out to be his father—locked in a passionate embrace with Sierra’s aunt. “Sorry for interrupting.” Beau wondered whose face was redder—his or his father’s? Despite everyone’s embarrassment, Beau found his father’s predicament amusing. He’d never seen the old man with his shirttail hanging out and his hair mussed.
“Sierra’s home.” Beau’s father attempted to straighten his clothes then gave up, scowling at Beau as he retrieved his coat from the back of the chair.
“I thought you’d be gone longer, Sierra.” Jordan smoothed a hand down her slacks.
“I’m tired,” Sierra said. “I enjoyed the rodeo, Beau, thanks for taking me.” She waltzed into her bedroom and shut the door.
So much for ending the date on a positive note. “How was the ballet?” Beau asked.
“Wonderful,” Jordan said.
“Bushwhacker and Back Bender both came out on top.” When his father didn’t inquire about Beau’s ride, he said, “I won, too.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
The backhanded compliment startled Beau. His father rarely praised his twins.
“Good night, Jordan.” Beau waited outside on the fire escape while the older couple said goodbye. When his father stepped onto the landing, Beau grinned.
“Don’t say a word.”
They walked in silence to their trucks, then Beau followed his father back to the ranch. When they entered the kitchen, his dad said, “We need to talk.” He filled the coffeemaker with water, flipped the switch and sat across the table from Beau.
“This is about Jordan, isn’t it? You’ve got serious feelings for her,” Beau said.
“No, this is about you and Sierra.”
“What about us?”
“I thought I told you to keep your distance from her.”
Swallowing an angry retort, Beau said, “What happens between Sierra and me isn’t any of your business.”
“Well, I’m making it mine because Jordan means…” His father’s voice trailed off. He left the table and fetched a beer from the fridge.
“You just put a pot of coffee on.”
“I need something stronger.” His father twisted off the cap and took a long swallow.
“Jordan means what?” Beau asked.
“She means the world to me. If you hurt Sierra—”
“Last time I spoke with Jordan I got the impression she approved of me and Sierra dating.” Beau struggled to understand his father’s objections to his relationship with Sierra. Did a couple of dates and hot sex on a kitchen counter even constitute a relationship? “Sierra and I are grown adults capable of making our own decisions.”
“Watch it, young man. You’re treading on thin ice.”
After the way the day with Sierra had ended, Beau was itching for a fight and his father appeared determined to oblige him. “You’ve got a lot of nerve assuming you know what’s best for everyone when you were such a crappy dad.” He expected his father to explode—when he didn’t, Beau mumbled, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you’re right. I wasn’t a good father.”
Shocked his dad had owned up to the charge, the anger fizzled out of Beau. “Was it because of Mom’s death?”
“I loved your mother.” Then his father dropped a bombshell. “But I’ve always loved Jordan more.”
“So you settled for Mom when Jordan left Roundup after high school.”
“I held out for a while believing Jordan would come home, but she didn’t.”
“Did Mom know you felt this way about another woman?”
“Not in the beginning.”
Oh, man, this didn’t sound good. “When did Mom figure out you were still in love with Jordan?”
“Right after your second birthday.”
“How?”
“She found a box of old love letters between Jordan and me, and guessed that I’d only proposed to her after I learned that Jordan had become engaged to another man.”
“What did Mom do?”
“We argued and she left the house.”
Beau felt light-headed. He’d heard many accounts of his mother’s death from various people and family members, and all the stories had involved his mother driving in bad weather and her car sliding off the road and hitting a tree head-on.
“The fight happened the afternoon Mom died, didn’t it?”
His father rested his face in his hands. “I can’t tell you how many times a day I think about that moment and regret not stopping your mother from going out in that storm.”
Wait until Duke heard the truth. “Did you tell Jordan?”
“No. And I’m not going to. It wasn’t her fault, Beau. It was mine. I’m the one who couldn’t let Jordan go all these years.” The lines bracketing his father’s mouth deepened and he looked every one of his fifty-eight years. “If I’d burned those letters…who knows, maybe your mother and I would still be married today.”
His father had kept this secret to himself all these years and Beau couldn’t imagine carrying around such a heavy burden.
“I take full blame for you and Duke having to grow up without a mother, and for that I am deeply sorry.” The misery in his father’s eyes conveyed his sincerity.
So many pieces of the puzzle finally fit together. Maybe later Beau would process his father’s confession. “Jordan’s not the same person you dated in high school. How can you be sure she’s what you want this time around?”
“Jordan is the same spirited girl I fell head over heels for. The only difference is that she’s blind. I’m the one who changed, and I’m humbled that Jordan still sees something worthwhile in me.”
“Have you asked her to marry you?”
>
“No, but I’ve dropped several hints.”
“And…?”
“She changes the subject.”
“Why?”
“Jordan hasn’t said as much, but I believe she’s too worried about Sierra to think of herself right now.” Beau remained silent and his father continued, “Promise me you’ll stop leading Sierra on.”
“How am I leading her on? I’ve taken her to a couple of rodeos. That’s it.” And you’ve had sex with her. That’s a lot.
“Sierra’s not the kind of girl you have a fling with, son.”
“Whoa, hold on a minute. Who said anything about flings?” Had Sierra told her aunt they’d slept together?
“Just keep your pants zipped.”
“Why should things be any different for Sierra and me? You’re dating a woman who’s already blind.”
“That’s right. I know what I’m getting into. You don’t. There’s no telling how long it will take for Sierra to lose her sight completely—could be a few years or three decades.”
“So?”
“So…that means Sierra will be riding an emotional roller coaster for years, and that kind of stress can ruin a relationship.”
“I get it now. You want me to quit dating Sierra so you can move forward with your plans for you and Jordan.”
“You’re making me sound selfish.”
“If the shoe fits.” Beau shoved his chair back and stormed out of the house. As much as his father’s advice offended him, he conceded the old man was right about one thing—Beau had to decide where he stood with Sierra. He couldn’t continue to ask her out on dates, flirt with her and maybe have sex with her again unless he was willing to stand by her through good, bad and blindness.
* * *
AT HALF-PAST ONE in the morning, Beau’s cell phone went off. He’d thrown himself into working on the Phillips’ saddle, the task taking his mind off the conversation with his father, and he’d lost track of time. He checked the number. Duke.
“What’s wrong?” Beau asked when he answered the call.
“It’s Sierra.”
The blood drained from Beau’s face. He’d dropped her off at her apartment a few hours ago—what could have happened between then and now that would involve a deputy sheriff? “Is she okay?”
