The Bull Rider's Homecoming

by Jeannie Watt

  “Why?”

  “Because this seems kind of official. A date and all that.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “So it’s a date. We’re tough. We can handle it.”

  Annie laughed. “I guess.” She slowed as a rabbit darted across the road ahead of her then stepped on the gas. The pipes rumbled. There was something about a small woman driving a big truck that Trace liked. A lot. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but a big tote bag was in the way, so instead he eased back in his seat and told himself to relax. His nerves were thrumming just like they did before a ride, and that was simply nuts. Annie kept lifting her chin, as if giving herself a pep talk, so Trace decided to come clean.

  “I’m nervous, too.”

  She gave him a curious look. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  A frown creased her forehead. “Somehow I figured a guy like you would have groupies. Grady used to.”

  “I’m not a big groupie guy, and having groupies isn’t the same as going on a first date.”

  “Huh.”

  Fifteen minutes later Annie followed a line of cars into a driveway leading to a farm and parked in a field that was already filled with cars and trucks. When she turned off the engine, the world suddenly seemed a whole lot quieter.

  “Next time we take my rig,” he said with a wry smile.

  “Then next time you do the asking,” Annie replied, reaching for her door handle.

  “Touché.” And he kind of liked that she was talking about next time.

  They ordered hot dogs just before the auction began and Trace watched in amazement as Annie loaded the bun with everything on the condiment table.

  “You’re not going to be able to eat that thing,” Trace said. “It’s going to explode on you.”

  “Watch me,” she said, a glint of challenge in her eye. She lifted the sagging bun to her lips, opened her mouth...then set the hot dog back in the cardboard container, reached for a plastic knife and cut a small piece, which she popped into her mouth.

  “Hey. No fair.”

  “I broke a rule?”

  “I think so. Since when do people eat hot dogs like that?”

  “I hope the hot-dog police don’t come after me.” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke.

  “You never know,” Trace said before taking a bite of his own hot dog—the regular way. “We might not want to hang around, just in case you get reported.”

  “All right. I overloaded and I don’t usually eat hot dogs this way,” Annie admitted. “I didn’t want to risk dripping mustard on my new blouse. But I do love a lot of stuff on my dog.”

  “Obviously.”

  They finished eating and then wandered through the farm implements and antiques. Annie stopped to inspect almost every piece of furniture, running her hand over the wood, studying the lines, looking for damage.

  “Have an idea of what you want?” he asked, thinking again that this wasn’t a bad way to have a first date. If it went bad, she could focus on the business at hand—buying furniture for her store. But it didn’t feel as if it was going bad. It felt as if a steady vibe was growing between them, especially when they accidentally—or not so accidentally—touched.

  “I’ve always wanted an old wagon,” Annie said as they passed several old buckboards and utility wagons parked in a row. “By the time I get to the point that I can afford to spend money on something as frivolous as that, they’ll be hard to find.”

  “We used to have old wagons on my father’s ranch.”

  “Your family ranch?”

  “It never felt like that,” he said softly. “It was my father’s ranch. I only lived there for a few years and I didn’t really spend a lot of time there. I spent more time at the neighbors’. They took me under their wing and I learned to bull ride there.”

  “Did your dad watch you ride?”

  “Only a couple of times. Local events. It would have looked bad if he hadn’t gone.” He gave Annie a serious look. “But you know what? That’s the past. It’s gone and I’ve moved on. Right now I’m here with you and I like it.” Which made him just a little edgy. Being with Annie seemed pretty darned perfect—right now. When it was just the two of them in a different world than their own.

  They finished the preview, then got bidding paddles and took their seats. The auction started not too long after that. Annie leaned forward as the first lot came in, then settled back when the bidding started. Trace leaned back, too, his thigh pressing lightly against hers as he stretched out his legs. Annie didn’t move away until a bureau she’d had her eye on was brought up for bid.

  Trace had never bid in an auction, but he could tell that Annie had. She looked relaxed, but her body was taut as she waited until the proper moment to enter the fray. She lost the first piece she bid on, but she won the next three.

  “All I need to win now is that lot of three chairs.”

  “Good luck,” Trace murmured. He enjoyed watching her, the way her chin rose when an opposing bid was acknowledged. She would be a terrible poker player, he decided. He also wasn’t going to tell her that.

  Annie lost the chairs and had started to pull her jacket back out of her giant tote bag, when an old wheelbarrow was brought in. She stilled, then took her paddle back up again.

  “A wheelbarrow?” he asked. It wasn’t old enough to be an antique. It was just...ugly.

  “Shhh,” she said gently, as if he were one of her kids, her eyes never leaving her prize.

  Trace shushed and Annie bid. She won that thing, too. Cheap.

  “I like to garden,” she said when she finally met his gaze. “I need a wheelbarrow.”

  “That thing is not a wheelbarrow. It’s a bunch of rust on a flat tire.”

  “It’s also five dollars and that’s what rust-killing paint and a tire-patch kit are for.”

  “I’ll take your word on that.” Trace had no experience with either. He’d never owned a bike of his own nor had he ever painted anything. His skills outside the arena were lacking.

  With the help of the guys who were monitoring the purchases, Trace loaded two small tables, a bureau, a single high-back chair and a rusty wheelbarrow into Grady’s truck without feeling so much as a twinge from his shoulder. Things were knitting together well, which made him feel hopeful that he’d be able to practice soon.

  “Nice truck,” one of the guys who’d helped them load said with a wink.

  “Not mine,” Trace was proud to say. He couldn’t wait to make fun of Grady’s wheels to his face the next time he saw him.

  And when would that be?

  Either when Grady came home or when they met on the road again.

  “What now?” he asked as Annie tightened one corner of the elastic netting covering her purchases.

  “Lunch and then I thank you for a great time and go pick up my girls.”

  “I get lunch?” he asked. “Two meals in one date?”

  “The hot dog was a teaser. Besides, I’d love a beer before calling it an afternoon.”

  Trace agreed, because he wasn’t ready for the day to be over.

  “I’m on the clock, though,” Annie said. “My sitter is booked until five this afternoon and then she has a function to attend. I can’t be late picking up the girls.”

  Yes. They did live different existences in that regard. He was free to come and go as he pleased, and he liked that about his life. Liked not staying still for long and being able to do what he wanted to do when he wanted.

  That was something Annie needed to know about him—something he needed to make clear from the outset. She also needed to know that while he liked her kids, he was kind of intimidated by them. Not Katie and Kristen themselves, but the idea of kids. The possibility of messing up with them, of not knowing what to do. And then there was the stability issue.
He knew from experience that kids needed stability to grow and thrive. What did he know about stability?

  Absolutely nothing.

  Annie drove them to a roadside pub on the outskirts of Dillon—a place he’d never been before. “They have great steak sandwiches,” she assured him as he held the door open for her.

  And beer. They had a great selection of beer on tap. Annie ordered a short and he ordered a tall and they settled back in their chairs to wait for their food. Since there was only one other couple in the pub, their order came quickly. Annie ate half of her sandwich then pushed her plate aside.

  “Still nervous?” he asked.

  She looked at him in surprise. “Not a bit.”

  “Then we can consider this a successful outing?”

  “I bought a rusty wheelbarrow. Does it get any better than that?”

  “Want to do it again?” Trace asked. “Maybe without the wheelbarrow?”

  Annie’s expression grew serious. “I’ve been wondering that.”

  Honest. And direct. Trace ignored the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, telling himself he really had no cause to feel disappointed. It wasn’t like he had anything to promise but the here and now. When he pictured his life a year from now, there was no question as to where he’d be—on the road, riding bulls, following his dream. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else—he felt like he might die a little if he gave up that part of his life.

  At some point the bull riding had to stop, but when he imagined himself settling down, living as he was living now...the image didn’t gel. He was going stir-crazy at Lex and Grady’s place, even with his afternoons spent at the practice pen. He’d find a job that allowed him to be near the action—trucking bulls or working in some other capacity for a stock contractor.

  He liked being with Annie, but he had to be true to himself. Which meant coming clean with her. He didn’t want her to have any illusions as to how long he’d be around. “While you’re making your decision, there’s something you should know.”

  She tilted her head politely, but he could sense the shift in her demeanor.

  “No big secret. It’s just that I’m not good at staying in one place for long. Never have been.”

  “Is that a warning?” she asked softly, lifting her beer to her lips and watching him over the top of the glass.

  “Full disclosure.”

  She set the glass back down. “I like honesty.”

  “It’s the way I am,” he said simply. “I’m most comfortable when I’m following the circuit.”

  She looked down at the table, a faint frown creasing her forehead. “While we’re disclosing...you do, of course, understand that I have more than just myself to consider when I make decisions.”

  “I know.”

  “I had so much fun today.” Her hand closed around her napkin and he noticed her emphasis on the past tense. “I like being with you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Ever dated a single mom, Trace?”

  He gave his head a shake. “Your girls are the cutest things ever. Funny and fun to be around.” His mouth tightened. “They scare me to death.”

  Annie let out a breath and leaned back in her chair. “I can understand that. I hadn’t spent much time around kids, either, until I had them. It was a shock when I discovered that not only were babies a lot of work, there was also a boatload of daily worry and anxiety that went along with all the joys of parenthood.”

  “You started at the ground level and worked up. I’ve never been even near the ground level.”

  Annie’s chin dipped down again and Trace reached out to tilt it back up. The disappointed look in her eyes was killing him.

  “So,” she said slowly. “What we’re saying is that even though we are...attracted...to each other, when we look at the realities of our situation...there probably shouldn’t be a situation.”

  “There can be a situation,” he countered. “But it has to be an eyes-wide-open thing. Like I told you, I won’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  “Then I have stuff to think about.” She got up from her chair, the legs scraping loudly over the wood floor, and Trace did the same, taking her upper arm in a gentle grip.

  “Annie...”

  “It’s fine, Trace.” She sounded as if she meant it. “It’s good to be realistic. I think that’s why I asked you out—so that we could confront reality. And we have.”

  She smiled up at him then pushed open the heavy pub door and stepped out into the brisk Montana spring air. Trace followed her to the truck, wishing that he didn’t feel like his gut was tying itself into a knot. Honesty was good and they’d been honest. Right?

  There was no reason to feel this ridiculous sense of loss after one kiss and a friendly date.

  * * *

  THE DRIVE BACK to Lex’s farm wasn’t exactly awkward, but it was silent. The elephant in the room had been addressed much earlier than Annie had anticipated. And honestly? She’d thought it would take a couple of dates before her package-deal status and Trace’s preferred lifestyle came to the forefront, but it was probably best it had happened this way.

  Trace was a guy who followed the road. No matter how well they clicked, Annie would not be following the road. Then there was that matter of Trace being afraid of kids—a deal breaker for sure, except that Annie had watched Trace with her girls and firmly believed that with time, he’d figure out the whole kid thing. He was a natural, but needed the confidence that came with practice. Just her luck to be attracted to a guy who wasn’t afraid of a half-ton bull, but was intimidated by a pair of small girls.

  Annie dropped Trace off and drove away without experiencing another of his amazing kisses. Better that way. Really, it was. She’d followed her impulse and tested the water and things had ended in the best possible way. No messy breakups when he had to hit the road. No hiding things from her girls.

  She was almost to town when her phone rang. Emily.

  “Hi, Em. What’s up?”

  “I think you have a couple sick girls on your hands. They’re wilting on the sofa as I speak.”

  When her girls went down, they went down fast. At least they’d waited until she’d taken care of the other business in her life. “Be right there. Do you mind if I make a quick stop for Popsicles and Jell-O?”

  “Not at all.”

  Annie pulled into the store at the edge of town and stocked up on foods that would be easy for the girls to eat in their current state then hurried on to Emily’s house. The girls were ambulatory, but cranky, and Emily helped Annie steer them out to the truck.

  “I see you had success at the auction,” she said.

  “Yes. I was going to have Danielle’s dad and Curtis help me unload at the store, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” Annie watched her girls fasten their seat belts and slump into each other. “Or maybe the next day.”

  “You have a couple sick babies,” Emily agreed.

  “They won’t be going to school on Monday,” Annie said.

  “No.” Emily hugged herself as the wind gusted. “Let me know when they’ll be back.”

  “Will do. Thanks.”

  Annie drove her girls home and got them situated on the sofa in front of the television. Even though they would both instantly go to sleep, neither of them liked being in bed when they were sick, and Annie was of the opinion that a sick kid should be in the place where they were most comfortable, and in the case of her girls, that was on the sofa, ignoring the television set.

  “What else do you need?” Annie asked as she arranged an afghan over Kristen.

  “Nothin’,” her daughter muttered as her eyes drifted shut. Katie was already out. And by this time tomorrow, they’d probably be fine. Or so Annie hoped. She hated having them miss too much school, and as it was, they were going to
be upset at missing the casting announcement for the elementary play.

  Oh, well. They’d get the news, good or bad, on Tuesday or Wednesday.

  Annie drifted into the kitchen and sat at the table, laying her head down on her folded arms and closing her eyes. This was what her life was about right now—taking care of her girls. It had been nice going out with Trace, and she appreciated his honesty about his capabilities. In a few years she could date. Right now she was a mom. And she was good at it. She had to be. She was all her girls had.

  Chapter Nine

  “Wait until you see this one.” Jasper Hennessey leaned on the rails while Bill and one of his sons loaded a young bull in the chute.

  Trace wasn’t yet ready to ride, but his shoulder was regaining its range of motion and he had started strength-building exercises. Another few weeks and he’d be ready to go. He’d already talked to Jasper about practice. Jasper didn’t have the caliber of bulls he needed to get a full workout, but he had some animals that Trace could start on. And he didn’t plan to do all that much in the practice pen. It would kill him to get injured practicing rather than competing. And he definitely didn’t intend to get injured before he rode Brick in December.

  The gate opened and a young, riderless bull bucked its way across the arena.

  “He has real potential,” Trace said. The animal was smaller than the others, but bucked in a serious way. Once he had a little more growth on him, he’d present a decent challenge to the cowboy trying to ride him.

  “Good lines. I indulged myself a few years ago and bought three rodeo cows for my breeding program.”

  “How’s that going? Your program?” Because this young bull was definitely of a higher caliber than his older ones.

  “Well...let’s just say that it started as a sideline and seems to be developing into a full-time business. I barely have time for my farming anymore...which kind of works, because I hate farming. I make Bill do it.” Jasper cackled and shifted his attention back to the arena, where Bill herded the young bull toward the gate after his training run.