Rodeo Dreams

by Sarah M. Anderson

  They all looked around for Red. There he was, hunched over the bar. The hangover—and the black eye—he’d ridden with tonight had cost him money, but he seemed to be trying to cure it all with a little hair of the dog. At least he was alone tonight. Less of a chance of a repeat performance in Travis’s camper. Because if Red chased June out again, the prick wouldn’t live to see twenty-two.

  “What I don’t understand is why—”

  “Mitch,” June replied, turning that megawatt smile away from Travis, “let it go, okay?” She leaned in close enough that Travis could see the shine of her lips in the dim light. That smile was just for him.

  There it was again, that tightness in his face. He must be smiling back.

  “Sheesh,” Mitch muttered. “You two.”

  June smiled real sweetly at Mitch, which made the words coming out of her mouth that much funnier. “Cram it, Mitch.”

  How had Travis missed that? Everything looked normal, but now that he was in on the secret, he could see the difference between her real affection and the fake stuff.

  He was giving her time. She was right—he didn’t want people thinking she was bed-hopping. But he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

  “If you two are going to be all lovey-dovey, at least do it out on the dance floor, where we don’t have to listen to it. Damn,” Mitch said, completely drunk on the turn of a dime, “Girlie, I’m taking you out!” He got to his feet and swayed dangerously.

  Maybe this was part of the plan, because June grabbed him and sat him back down. “Not with you, cowboy. You’re drunk.”

  “Somebody’s got to dance you around,” Mitch wailed. Lord, this was bad acting at its worst. “She gets so mean if she don’t get to dance,” he went on, in that shouting whisper that let everyone within twenty-five feet in on the secret. “Travis! Take my Girlie out, wouldja? Big favor. You’re saving my life!”

  “Well...” But June was already out of her chair, halfway out on the dance floor. “Just as a favor, Mitch.”

  “Thanks, buddy!” Mitch gave him one of those unbalanced hugs, every bit the sloppy drunk, but then Mitch yanked him close. “Play it cool, Younkin,” he hissed in warning. “Give her time to figure it out.”

  Why did it seem that the more Mitch drank, the more authoritative he got? “Fine. Got it. Let go.”

  June was waiting for Travis, her hips already swaying. Her hair moved just a second behind her body, the black silk ends flicking out one way while her body was already moving the other.

  Hell, they were dancing. No point in keeping his hands off what was rightfully his.

  “I missed you,” she breathed in his ear as her arms went around his neck. “Been a long day.”

  “Yeah?” Far from satisfying, her voice left him hungry for more. He wanted to pull her tight against him, but she was keeping almost a foot of space between them. Still, better than not touching her at all, he tried to console himself.

  “Yeah. The state capital is fun but I’d rather have spent the day with you.”

  Her strong muscles moved in perfect rhythm underneath his hand. And this time, he knew exactly what sort of body she was sporting under those clothes. “How about tomorrow? Can you spend tomorrow with me?”

  “You going to the True West in Rapid City next week?”

  Not what he was expecting. “On Friday. What about tomorrow?”

  “You don’t have anything else you’ve got to do between now and Friday?”

  Her ear was right there, millimeters from his mouth. He had to taste it. “The only thing on my to-do list is you, sweetheart,” he said as he wrapped his lips around her lobe.

  A small shudder ran through her body. “Uh—”

  “I didn’t get to taste everything I wanted to last night,” he whispered as his mouth moved down her neck. “Tonight, it’s my turn.”

  He could feel her pulse; the tempo picking up as his teeth grazed her skin. “Don’t,” she said, but the way her voice quivered—just like her whole body had quivered—he couldn’t help it. His lips fastened onto hers.

  Time slowed down as he tasted everything good about her. Tonight he’d show her what a real man could do, starting with her toes and working his way up—

  “Hey, Mitchell!” The shout from the bar was loud enough to break through. “Ain’t Travis kissing your girl?”

  Was he? Oh, hell, he was.

  “Uh-oh!” June gasped, pushing back. “You shouldn’t— I shouldn’t— Damn it, Travis!” The fear in her eyes was real.

  “I—” Whatever apology he wanted to attempt didn’t get the chance to come out. Travis was spun around and found himself face-to-face with Mitch. Then Mitch’s hand was on his throat and Travis was flying backward, knocking chairs and tables until he was flat against a wall. Glass from a picture frame shattered under his head, but his hat cushioned the blow.

  “Fight, fight!” The crowd egged them on.

  “Mitch, don’t!” June screamed, but the Brazilian was holding her back. “Don’t!”

  “Goddamn it, Travis, I told you to play it cool and now you’ve forced my hand.” His face was a mask of rage, but his voice was quiet. “Listen. I’m going to hit you in the gut and you’ve got to make it look like it hurt. Then I’m going to take June and you’re going to sit down and have a beer, okay?”

  Hell, no, it wasn’t okay. Travis tried to shove Mitch off him. “What the—” But he didn’t get the chance to finish. The blow came quick, right in the middle of his stomach, but as promised, it wasn’t that bad. More of a shove with a fist than a punch.

  Travis did as he was told, doubling over with a loud groan. The crowd groaned in sympathetic pain as June screamed, “Stop it!” at Mitch.

  “I told you to leave my Girlie alone, you lame-ass son of a bitch!” Mitch roared, hungry for blood as he grabbed Travis by the shirt and hauled him up again.

  “Get him!” someone jeered. “Come on, Travis!” another voice yelled.

  “Come to our room twenty minutes after Paulo leaves,” Mitch whispered as he got right up in Travis’s face.

  The sucker punch had a little more behind it this time, and what with Mitch pulling him down by his shirt, Travis didn’t have much choice but to go to his knees, his eyes watering. “Because I said so, you bastard!” the violent Mitch yelled again. And then the tip of Mitch’s boot was coming right for Travis’s face, and June was screaming again and although he had no idea what was going on, Travis knew this was going to be it. He braced for the impact.

  But the blow never came. When he peeked his eyes open again, Randy and Garth had Mitch by the arms and were hauling him away. “Easy, damn it, or they’ll call the cops,” Randy shouted.

  “You stay away from her!” Mitch yelled as he struggled to pull free.

  Travis tried to get up as Mitch grabbed June by the arm and dragged her out of the bar, but his boots couldn’t get any traction on the worn floor. Mitch wouldn’t hurt June. Hell, Mitch had had a damn good reason to hurt Travis—but had barely managed a half punch. Finally, he got a hold of a tipped table and pulled himself up. But before he could get anywhere, the Brazilian materialized before him, blocking his path.

  “Get out of my way,” Travis said, trying to be calm when all he felt was sickening anger.

  “Let them go.”

  Even through his confusion, Travis knew that the Brazilian talking was a special occasion. “What did you say?”

  The Brazilian slung his arm around Travis’s shoulder and pulled him toward the bar. “Things are not what they seem,” he said as he signaled for two beers.

  At least, that’s what Travis thought he said. The guy had an accent that was as thick as pudding. “You talk?”

  Not much, apparently, because the guy just nodded and took a pull off his longneck.

  “Loo
k, thanks for the beer, but June—”

  “She is fine.” That time, Travis wasn’t even sure the Brazilian’s lips moved. “It is not what it seems.”

  “What the hell is this? Is everyone speaking in code?”

  Garth looked amused at the whole situation as he slapped the Brazilian on the back. “Looks like you lost your ride!” He turned his attention to Travis. “What the hell got into you? You knew she was Mitch’s girl—she even met his momma! Who knew ol’ Mitch had it in him, huh? I guess the only thing the Heartbreak Kid’s gonna be breaking from here on out is your ass! Wooee! You should have seen the look on your face, old man! He had you dead to rights!”

  The Brazilian glared at him, willing him to play along. Why did people do stupid stuff? Oh, yeah. They were in a bar. “Lost my head. Too much beer.”

  “You need a ride, man?” Garth said to the Brazilian as he looked over the rapidly emptying bar. “I think the party is moving on. Super 8, right?”

  The Brazilian nodded and, as soon as Garth turned his back, flashed the numbers 3, 1 and 5 at Travis. Then he tapped on his watch.

  What had Mitch said? “Twenty minutes?”

  The Brazilian nodded and was gone, leaving two tens on the bar.

  “You okay?” Randy was still here, but the girl he was with was pulling him out the door.

  “Yeah. Go on. And stay out of trouble!”

  Words he needed to remember himself.

  * * *

  “ARE YOU SURE he got the room number?” June asked for the tenth time. Paulo had been back for exactly thirty-three minutes and there was no sign of Travis. Paulo nodded, managing to look bored with the line of questioning.

  Mitch wasn’t helping her mood, either. He kept apologizing and it was getting on her nerves. “I didn’t hit him that hard, June, swear. But he was kissing you—and everyone was there—”

  “I know.” The situation had gone to hell in a handbasket, all because she hadn’t been strong enough to nip the nibbling in the bud.

  Mitch sat in the chair, gripping the arms like he was about to go for a rocket ride. “Now we’ve got to tell him, and he’s going to hit me for punching him and hit me for dragging you out and hit me for being—”

  The knock was tentative, but loud enough to be heard over the sound of Mitch melting down. Finally. “Where have you been?”

  Looking beyond pissed, Travis grabbed her and hauled her out into the hall. “Let’s go.”

  “Damn it, Travis! I told you twenty minutes!” Mitch yelled. June could hear how terrified he was, but it came out as irritated. Great.

  “It’s okay, babe.” If she couldn’t explain this right, everything was going to fly apart and she’d have no hope of putting it back together. “I can explain.”

  Travis wasn’t budging. “I don’t need an explanation.”

  She felt Paulo standing behind her before she heard him. “Come in, Travis. Please.”

  The pissed look softened into confusion. “Did you hear him talk or am I imagining it?”

  She latched onto Travis’s arm and hauled him in as Paulo shut the door behind them. “We can explain, okay? Just give us a chance.”

  “Us? Or him?”

  Paulo took the first step. He brushed past the two of them and stood behind Mitch, hands gently rubbing the man’s twitching shoulders. “Come. Sit.”

  Travis froze. “What— Uh, Mitch—what’s going on?”

  Here we go, thought June as she pushed him down onto the bed and sat next to him. She kept a tight hold on his arm, just in case he either bolted or decided to pummel Mitch.

  The poor guy couldn’t sit still another moment. Mitch hopped up and began to pace. “I didn’t want to do it like this, Travis. But you forced my hand and now I’ve got to tell you. I’d never hurt you and I’d never hurt June and then you’re going to kill me and—”

  He was beyond reason. Why was she letting Mitch talk? Oh, yeah. It was his secret. “Mitch, get on with it.”

  “Okay. Yes.” He stopped pacing long enough to draw in a big breath and push it back out. “Here’s the thing. June isn’t the only one who needed cover. I needed cover, too.”

  Travis looked stricken, like he might have guessed right but didn’t want to believe it. His voice cracked when he said, “You?”

  “Yes. Me. Me and Paulo. We needed cover.”

  She felt Travis’s body tense, but she looped a hand around his neck and held him still. “This is okay, babe. Just hear him out.”

  The tired smile Paulo shot her as he calmed Mitch gave her some hope that this was going as well as could be expected.

  “Cover?” Travis still sounded like Mitch was strangling him in the bar.

  Mitch began to pace again, but Paulo grabbed his hand and held him still. “We wanted everyone to think June was sleeping with me so no one would guess that I was really sleeping with Paulo.”

  “With—him?”

  “Yes, Travis,” she added, keeping her voice as calm as she could.

  “But—that’s—that’s gay!”

  Paulo shot him a look that said, About time you got it, as Mitch took a step back. “Yeah. It is. We are. But June’s not. She’s just been—”

  Travis exploded out from under her hands. It was all she could do to grab his belt and hang on. “You’re gay?” he shouted.

  Paulo was unmoved, but Mitch cowered. He looked like he might start crying and that wasn’t going to help anything.

  “Travis, babe,” June got out as she tried to haul him back, “it’s no big deal.”

  “You!” He spun on her. “You knew this? You—you were pretending! The whole time!”

  Whoa. Maybe Mitch’s fear of being punched was legit. “I was helping out a friend, Travis. A friend!”

  “What kind of friend—”

  “Babe.” Right now, she needed to get Travis out of here without any blood being shed.

  Mitch cleared his throat. He was still terrified, but Paulo was rubbing his shoulder again, and Travis hadn’t killed him yet. On the whole, it was progress. “Travis, you’ve got to understand. If everyone knew, we’d be run out of the circuit. We’d be done. Red and his crew would kill us—you know they would.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Travis said from behind his hands. “But you lied to me!”

  “I’m really sorry about that. You’ve been a good friend—” Travis’s head popped up, and for a second, June thought he was going to charge Mitch. “Only a friend, Travis, I swear—and I understand if you don’t want to have anything else to do with me, but I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us.” Mitch looked as serious as June had ever seen him. “I almost told you the truth when you came to check on me last summer, but I was afraid.” He swallowed again. “Afraid that you wouldn’t be my friend anymore. You’ve taught me more about riding bulls than anyone else and always treated me fair. I didn’t want to mess that up.”

  Travis glared at Mitch for a long moment, then looked at the open door between their rooms. He peered in to where Jeff was hiding under a pillow, to where all of June’s stuff was scattered. When he turned back around, he looked different. Resigned. Like a man who knew what he had to do. “Get your things. You’re coming with me. End of discussion.” Travis hauled her to her feet. “Now.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Like hell it’s not.”

  “Look, I made this mess.” Complicated didn’t begin to describe the problem. “You know that if I jump from what everyone thinks is Mitch’s bed to yours, people are going to start talking, and I become not a whole lot more than a bunny sleeping her way up the chain of command. No one takes me seriously.”

  “So—what? So you want me to leave you here with these two degenerates?”

  “That’s not fair, and you know it. Degenerate is Red in y
our camper after a threesome. This is just two people in love.”

  Travis’s eyes flashed mad as he issued a challenge. “Who’s in love here?”

  Who the hell did he think they were talking about? “Mitch and Paulo!”

  She knew even before he spoke that she’d given the wrong answer. The ice in his voice froze her blood. “That’s right. Not us.”

  The pain in her gut seemed to paralyze her lungs, far worse than ever having the wind knocked out of her.

  Not us.

  She couldn’t even breathe as he blew past her.

  “Travis.” Why he stopped to listen to Mitch at this point was beyond June’s reasoning, but he did, right at the door. “I’d never hurt her. Never.”

  The door shut behind him.

  Mitch would never hurt her. Couldn’t say the same for Travis.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  WHAT THE HELL was he doing?

  Sitting on the hood of his truck, staring at an almost full moon. He wasn’t even sure where he was, not that it mattered. But that didn’t answer the question.

  What the hell was he doing?

  “Being an asshole, that’s what.”

  Somehow, saying it out loud didn’t make it any better.

  Was he really going to walk away from her? Because Mitch was—well, what Mitch was?

  It wasn’t the gay thing. Well, okay, he admitted, it was a little bit the gay thing. But that wasn’t the only thing. June had lied to him, that was the bigger thing. That irritated him like a splinter he couldn’t get out.

  But what really had him pissed beyond reason was the fact that after two years—two years on the circuit, two years of keeping an eye out for that man, two years of meeting his mother and wondering why he stuck with the Brazilian if the guy never learned how to speak English, two years of counting Mitch Jenner as a friend—he’d never really known the guy.

  Well, he wasn’t alone in being an asshole. Mitch was an expert at it. He’d strung along how many women in two years? Thirty? Fifty? No wonder none of them ever got to meet his momma.