Rodeo Dreams

by Sarah M. Anderson

  He almost got upright, but then, arms flailing, he plopped right back into his spot. “Sorry, Girlie. No dancing tonight. Unless...” He waggled his brows at Travis.

  June rolled her eyes. Did he have to lay it on so damn thick? She gave him a quick kick under the table. Mitch yelped.

  Travis looked at the three of them, something between suspicion and disgust in his eyes. “Fine.” His hand hooked under the back of her chair and pulled. “I want to dance with you.”

  “You can’t step on my toes any worse than Mitch does,” she said over her shoulder as she guided Travis away from the table.

  The guffaws followed them out onto the crowded floor. June was heading toward the middle, but she’d barely broken through the first circle of dancers when Travis stopped and pulled her into his arms with more force than she was used to. The move into the two-step was effortless as his hand on her hip led her across the floor. He leaned her back into something that might have been a dip if he’d let her get that far away from his chest, but he didn’t.

  He could dance?

  “So—”

  “No, wait,” she interrupted as he spun her out and back in tighter. After so many months of Mitch crushing her toes, she wanted to be in this moment, with Travis’s arms holding her tight, his scruffy cheek against hers as he actually hummed along with the music. This was the man she wanted. Not her protector, not the Poppa Bear, not her embarrassment, but the man she wanted to kiss. And the way he led her across the floor—well, suddenly it seemed like kissing was back on the table.

  “We’re here to dance, so just dance, cowboy.”

  And dance he did, for the next two songs, his hand never leaving her waist as he navigated her around the drunken barflies working their way up to a one-night stand. Sore ankle and all, she felt like she was floating on her feet. Every time his fingers pressed into her to tell her where he wanted her to go, she felt a little lighter.

  If only he wanted her to go where she wanted him to.

  After another song ended, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he held her even tighter. “I want to know what’s going on.”

  The euphoric bubble she’d been riding burst, just like that. “What’s that going to change?” she snipped, trying to pull free.

  He wasn’t about to let her go. “I think I at least deserve an explanation as to why Mitch is sitting over there, grinning like a Cheshire cat as I dance his girl around the floor. Or do I not even get that?”

  “Depends.” Oh, he was so damn stubborn. Like seeing her naked gave him rights. She pulled her hand free of his and rested it back on his hip. “What are you going to give up to get it?”

  He managed a small smile. “You’re a damn stubborn woman, June Spotted Elk.”

  The music started, and he swept her up with Willie Nelson. She felt the bubble growing again, but she knew she wouldn’t make the eight seconds this time. “’Bout time you noticed, Travis Younkin.”

  “I’ve noticed a lot of things.” He was speaking so quietly that no one else could possibly hear him. “I noticed the lace panties and the red toenails and the way the water swells at the ends of your wet hair before fat drops fall to the ground. What I want to know is, who else gets to notice those sorts of things?”

  The heat flamed out from the back of her neck and raced around the front. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “You doubt me?”

  That brought her up short. Another couple nearly crashed into them before Travis chased off the guy with one look. “Why shouldn’t I doubt you? Haven’t you doubted every single thing I’ve done since I showed up and threw a wrench in your comeback season?”

  Instead of rising to the fight, he pressed his cheek harder into hers. “Try me.”

  “I did—or do you not remember what happened after the lace panties and the red toenails? You had your chance to find out and you bolted.”

  The band made it through the whole number before he said anything else. “I still want to know. What, exactly, is the working relationship you and Mitch Jenner have?”

  “If you don’t already know, I’m sure as hell not going to be the one to tell you.”

  His back stiffened and suddenly anger was rolling off him again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  They couldn’t keep doing this. The whole testing-the-waters thing had failed miserably. So what if she felt more right in his arms on this crowded dance floor than she’d felt in weeks? So what if the memory of his stunned face as she’d buttoned up her shirt still set her blood racing? So what? No matter what physical chemistry they had, she couldn’t throw Mitch and Paulo under the bus on the off chance it might help Travis get around to kissing her.

  “Whatever you want it to mean, Travis.” She stepped as far away from his hands as she could and walked out.

  * * *

  ONE MINUTE, SHE was leaving him. The next, the Brazilian was hustling Travis over to where Mitch was sitting, looking seriously pissed.

  “What did you do to June?” he demanded as the Brazilian shoved Travis down into the same seat he’d pulled June from just moments ago.

  “Uh— I—”

  “Travis.” The sloppy drunk who’d shooed him out onto the floor with his girl was gone. Instead, Travis faced a man who was serious.

  “I— She— In your room two weeks ago—”

  “Yes, I know. She tried to seduce you and you left her high and dry. I swear, Younkin, if you made June cry...” Mitch cracked his knuckles—an impressive touch from such a pip-squeak.

  “You know she came on to me?”

  “Of course I know. You think she wouldn’t tell me? You think she wouldn’t ask me what I think she should do next, being your friend and all? Jesus, Younkin, you are dense. Even my mother knows what’s going on. She can’t figure you out, either.”

  Mitch and the Brazilian exchanged a look that Travis couldn’t read. Then the Brazilian picked up his glass, and Mitch nodded. Within seconds, the Brazilian was getting another round of beers for the table from the bar.

  “Travis, open your eyes, man. Did you ever stop to think that maybe—just maybe—June and I aren’t sleeping together?”

  “But I saw her in your bed and she met your mother and—”

  “Shut up and listen.” Who was this man talking to Travis? It looked like Mitch, but Mitch didn’t have an authoritative bone in his body. “Stop and think about it for a second, okay? Why would we—June—want people to think we’re sleeping together?”

  “She wants people to think that? But you’re not?”

  “Wow.” Mitch whistled. “That bull must have clipped you harder than I thought. Did you honestly think that the likes of Red Willis were just going to let her play with the big boys? You give her enough crap about a helmet.”

  Travis twisted in his seat to see Red slurping Jell-O shots off some blonde’s chest. No, the likes of June wouldn’t be safe anywhere near the likes of Red. “You?”

  Mitch spread his arms wide. “The perfect cover.”

  “And you just agreed? To not sleeping with her? Why? Do you even know what kind of body she’s sporting under those clothes?”

  “Travis,” Mitch said, shaking his head in pity, “it’s not that hard. I wish you could believe me. I have absolutely no desire to sleep with June Spotted Elk. And what’s more, she has no desire to sleep with me. That’s why it works.”

  “So what are you two? Partners?”

  “Can’t we be friends?” Mitch muttered in frustration. “Friends look out for each other. Friends listen when someone needs to understand why the man she wants won’t do a single damn thing a normal man would do when faced with a beautiful woman in her underwear.”

  Good Lord, she really had told Mitch all about that misfire in his room.

  “She wants me?”


  “Of course she does, you idiot.” The Brazilian came back over with three beers. “Obrigado.” Mitch took a pull, his eyes never leaving Travis’s face.

  Regret washed over him. He’d gotten it all wrong, even when she’d tried to explain it to him. He was too set in his way of thinking to consider other possibilities. “Is it too late to apologize?”

  “Depends. Are you interested in her?”

  The hackles on the back of his neck tried to stand, but he reminded himself that Mitch and June were friends. Weird friends, but friends.

  “Well?” Mitch was studying Travis, the Brazilian, too. Travis had the funny feeling that there was more to the story, but he couldn’t get his mind around it. “Are you?”

  Interested wasn’t the right word for it. “Where is she? In your room?”

  Chortling, Mitch turned to the Brazilian. “Told you. Pay up.”

  “Mitch...” Travis said, hoping he sounded threatening.

  “If she took my Bronco, I figure she’s at the arena, watching that dog of hers run around,” he said as the Brazilian dug out a twenty. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “You can thank me tomorrow, if you get that far alive!” Mitch called out, but Travis didn’t have time to answer.

  He had to get to the arena.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE ARENA WAS a nice place after everyone left, June told herself. Jeff was happily pawing through the dirt. And if Jeff was happy, she was happy. Just her and Jeff, like it had always been.

  It wasn’t too late. She could call up the consolidated high school tomorrow and tell them she would be ready to start classes after Labor Day. She had a fat wad of hundreds shoved in her running shoes. More than enough to insulate Mom’s house for the winter. Maybe even enough for a newish car. That was better than Christmas gifts anyway.

  She’d proven her point, and hadn’t that really been the whole reason she was here? To prove that June Spotted Elk could ride a bull? So what if she hadn’t made it to the bigs? So what if she was only going to be able to cover one winter’s worth of living expenses instead of earning enough that she and Mom could move past surviving and into comfortable? So what if going home now was quitting?

  Sure, people would talk about how she couldn’t cut it in the big leagues, how she let a little thing like a broken heart ruin her—and yeah, they’d probably use her as an example of why women shouldn’t be allowed to ride the next time some other woman wanted to take a crack at the circuit, but what did it matter? She wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life on a bull. Sooner or later, she’d had to have stopped anyway. No sense in dragging out the inevitable.

  She was done.

  Jeff would be glad to get back to the prairie. He’d put on a good ten pounds eating road food. Mom would be thrilled to have June home, out of danger.

  Yes, it would be great. She certainly wouldn’t miss the adrenaline rush, the sensation of true power that came from a good ride. Not at all. She’d keep in touch with Mitch, of course. He’d fill her in on what was happening. That’d be good enough.

  Mom was succeeding at sobriety, and June had a job waiting for her. They wouldn’t be on welfare anymore. They could make it on their own now, without her father. That was the important thing. Maybe next summer, she could get a part-time job as a tutor or something, to help make up for what she wouldn’t earn by not finishing out the season. No big deal.

  Yeah, right.

  “June?” The voice interrupted her bitter plans for the future, echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “June? I need to talk to you!”

  She spun until she found him. “Travis?”

  Now what? Couldn’t that man leave her be? Did he have to come barging back in just when she was planning life without him or bulls?

  Man, but he moved quiet for a white man. He was less than fifteen feet from her, but she hadn’t even known he was there until he called her name. He was running as fast as he could. His left side was slowing him down, giving him a gait better suited to riding a stick horse.

  “What do you want now?” she snapped, turning away from him.

  “No— I—” He skidded around her, his chest heaving from the effort. “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, this must be a first. The All-Knowing Travis Younkin is going to apologize.” She knew that sounded bitchy, but she was done with messing around. “What, exactly, are you going to apologize for?”

  He took off his hat and held it in front of his chest like it was a shield. “Should I go chronologically, or you want me to go in order of most pissed off?”

  She had to bite back the laugh that threatened to escape. Maybe Mitch had talked some sense into him. But how much sense was the larger question. “Reverse chronological order—if you can.”

  “Mitch explained your relationship,” he said, his hands crushing the brim of his hat. “He’s your cover, right?”

  Nice of Mitch to clear this with her before he spilled the beans. “What else did that man say?”

  “Just that I’ve been a total ass and I’ve got you and him all wrong.”

  Mitch had that right. “What else?”

  “I’m sorry that I ignored you for the last week and a half. I’m sorry I shoved you away in the bedroom at Mitch’s house. I’m sorry I assumed you were letting Mitch string you along and I’m sorry I barged in while you were in the shower without knocking.” His hat was spinning in his hands. “I’m sorry I doubted you could do this, because you can.”

  I’ll be damned, she thought as she tried not to smile. He really was doing this in reverse chronological order.

  “I’m sorry I tried to get Mort to throw you off the circuit. I’m sorry I made you look bad in front of the other guys and I’m sorry I didn’t support you from the beginning.” He paused. “Although I still think you should wear a helmet.”

  “Duly noted.”

  He still looked iffy, like he wasn’t sure if he was done or not. Well, let him sweat. He had a little bit of that coming. “Anything else?”

  Oh, it was wrong to think it was so cute, the deer-in-the-headlights look he was wearing. “Uh, do I have to stay in reverse chronological order?”

  Even biting her lip couldn’t stop the smile. “I guess not. That was pretty impressive.”

  That must have been the response he was hoping for, because he grinned back at her. “Well, I’ve got other stuff I’m sorry for.”

  She crossed her arms and tried to look stern. “Such as?”

  He wasn’t buying that act anymore. He took another step, until he was close enough that she could smell the Old Spice. “I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to tell you how beautiful you are under that tough-girl exterior.”

  His voice reverberated all the way through her. There it was again, that wildfire of heat racing from her back to her front. Suddenly, June knew exactly what people meant by “weak in the knees.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to dance sooner,” he went on, stepping in close enough that he could touch her. Which he did, one hand breaking free from his hat and coming up to stroke her face with surprising tenderness. “I’m sorry I let my stupid ego blind me to what was right in front of me. But I’d like to make it up to you.”

  Holy hell, he had her. Just one thing left. If he bolted this time, that would be the end of that. She traced her finger along the one patch of his beard that didn’t grow in right. “You know what I want.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So let me see you.” She forced herself to step away from him.

  “Here?”

  “Why not? We’re alone.”

  “In the middle of a damned arena!”

  After all the times he’d changed behind the chutes? Please. She crossed her arms and dug in her heels. “Now.”

&n
bsp; “Come on, June!” His shock pushed him back several steps until he regained his balance. “You’ve got to give me a little bit here! You want what no one else has seen, and you want it in the middle of the ring?”

  “No one?”

  He couldn’t meet her eyes. “No. No one—outside of the hospital, that is.”

  So she was right. He was too busy hiding behind his past to even notice the present. “Not even once?”

  “No one else has wanted to see. No one wants a man who looks like Frankenstein, all stitched back together.”

  Her heart ached. Is that why he’d bolted on her? Because he thought that mattered to her?

  Scars didn’t make the man. Surviving them did, and how he’d survived to be at this exact moment in time with her was all she cared about. “I do.”

  He slowly raised his head, his eyes full of the ache of three years lost to a bull named No Man’s Land. “You do?”

  He still didn’t believe her, which really left only one thing to do. She moved fast, grabbing his face in both of her hands and hauling him down to her lips. No delicate dance this time. This time, she took what she wanted and she wasn’t going to settle for anything less.

  A guttural growl of satisfaction burst out of his chest, and then his arms were tight around her as he kissed her back. Yes, she thought as she tasted his musk, that’s it—the shivering, shaking, lose-her-head-then-lose-something-else kiss.

  “Your room?” he said, all breathless when she broke away. That look erased any last trace of doubt.

  No way in hell would she take Travis to her room, not with Mitch and Paulo on the other side of the door. She needed to run back though, deposit Jeff and grab her stuff. She didn’t want anything to interrupt this. “No. Your camper.”

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the dirt-filled arena. Tomorrow, they’d be back here.

  But tonight was theirs.

  * * *

  HIS HAND WAS shaking so hard he couldn’t get the key into the lock. Sweet Jesus, would she really come here tonight?