by Anne Carrole
What was she doing? She pulled away, breaking the kiss, and glared at the man breathing heavily before her. A smug expression sat on his face. He was a player and he had been playing her like a virtuoso strumming a fiddle.
She resisted the urge to smack him.
“That was some kiss,” he said, his hand rubbing his chin as if remembering.
Run, her mind screamed out to her, even as her weak body thrummed.
Turning, she wrenched open the truck door. The overhead light flashed on causing her to blink. Just what she needed, a spotlight on herself.
“Where are you going? You can’t leave now, Dusty.” His tone was one of disbelief. “We’ve started something and I damn well would like to finish it.”
What she didn’t want to do and would not do was start something with a rodeo cowboy who was just looking for another notch on his belt.
On rubbery limbs, she climbed into the cab and reached to close the door. He held the door open with a straight arm as the fabric of his white shirt bunched taut over hard muscle. Damn.
“I came on too strong. I’m sorry.” He flashed a grin that surely had landed him in more than one woman’s bed. “Not about the kiss though.”
She tugged at the door. It was immovable. “I’m leaving. Before I have any more regrets.”
The glow from the interior light spotlighted those dark blue eyes and the frown riding his handsome face. “You weren’t having regrets during that kiss, honey.”
“Well, I am now.” She pulled the door again, her sweaty palms almost causing her hand to slip. This time he moved out of the way. The door clanged shut.
“You can’t run from it.”
She fumbled for the keys in her pocket.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. At the rodeo?” he said through the closed window.
She’d be working tomorrow, captive behind that stand. “I’ll be there, but I’ve got to work.” She started the engine. He stepped back. She shifted into reverse, checked the rearview, and pulled out. As she swung onto the street she checked the rearview again. He was still standing there, framed by the glow of the moon. A tall, dark, hunk of a man with hands on his hips and his legs apart. A gunfighter’s pose.
She pulled up to the stoplight and leaned her forehead against the wheel where hard vinyl greeted her skin. What had she been thinking? That was the problem. She hadn’t been. He’d ambushed her, and so had the thousand sensations and feelings he’d managed to stir with just one kiss. She’d never been kissed like that. By anyone. Ever. Even Bradley.
She startled at the sound of a car horn behind her. The light was green. She gave the truck gas and shifted into gear. She wound along the familiar streets to Blossom Lane and turned into her driveway. Flicking on the cab light, she checked her reflection in the mirror. A face with puffy lips and skin chafed red from the stubble of his five o’clock shadow looked back at her. He was a rodeo cowboy. A player. And, unfortunately, one hell of a good kisser. Couldn’t help but wonder what else he was good at.
* * *
She’d left. Clay couldn’t believe it even as he watched the dust kick up from her departing truck. He walked back into the honky-tonk on weakened legs. Damn. With a nod to the old guy standing sentry, he stood on the threshold of the saloon. The band was in place and blasting out a Shania Twain tune. Bodies were hopping, feet were stomping, and Jesse was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Tara Lynn. Damn again.
Clay leaned against the wall right inside the door and tried to think. With the music blaring and his boots in line to get stomped on, it was damned hard. So was he. That kiss had brought him to a salute in less than a minute. And she wasn’t even his type.
Her slight body pressing against him had him wanting to go slow, to be gentle and tender. Not at all how he usually felt when he was looking to have a good time with a woman. As she’d deepened that kiss, lust had rolled through him like plains thunder. He’d thought he’d made a sale. He’d started to play with those little tips of hers, hoping she’d feel the same thing, and instead she backed up like a horse facing fire. And ran just as fast.
He knew she’d enjoyed it. Something was spooking her. Maybe Jesse was right and she wasn’t a woman after just a good time. Too bad. She had a sweet passion about her that would have been a lot of fun to taste. Just so long as Jesse didn’t taste it, Clay could live with a missed opportunity. Of course there was always tomorrow.
“Hey,” Jesse slid in next to him, back hugging the wall.
“Where you been?” Clay shouted over the blistering decibel level.
“Men’s room. See you didn’t convince her to dance.” Jesse’s smile was broad and irritating.
He just shook his head. He didn’t want to discuss Dusty. He hated the fact Jesse had even placed his arms around her. “You ready?”
“Hell no. You won saddle bronc, remember? Cause for celebration. There’s a pool room in the back and a lot of women who like to dance.”
Clay looked around. Everyone was paired off. One couple in particular was showing everyone how it was done. He just wasn’t up for it.
“I’m going back to the motel. Feeling a little stiff after that ride.”
Jesse scowled. “Geez. When did you stop being fun?” He batted his hat against his leg. “Let’s go. I just better make some money tomorrow.”
Chapter Three
Dusty wondered if this man was ever going to leave her be. After buying a beer, Clay had staked a spot against the thin pillar at the corner of the concession stand and there he’d stayed through the crush of patrons clamoring to get a drink before the bull riding finals started.
There were still three people in line and she had four minutes left before the clowns would warm up the audience for the big event. But for reasons she didn’t care to explore, her mind wasn’t on work right now.
She took the orders and filled their cups, operating on automatic pilot as her mind churned. With his tight black T-shirt stretched over all those muscles and those softly worn denim jeans hugging his butt, Clay ruined her concentration for anything else.
Hadn’t he gotten the message last night? When he hadn’t come in with the entrance of the afternoon crowd, and she hadn’t seen him during barrel racing, she was sure he’d stay down with Jesse and the other bull riders and she was fine with that. Really she was. More than fine seeing how she didn’t want any of what he was offering—a one night stand. And even though she was sure the memory of a one night stand with Clay Tanner would keep her warm all the way through to her old age, if that kiss of his was any sample.
There was no way she would risk it. What if she liked it? No, there was no what if about it. There could be no future—not with a rodeo cowboy—so why even venture down that path? She wanted a future with someone. She wanted the house, the white picket fence, the kids, and a husband who came home every night.
That’s what she’d thought she’d found with Bradley, a computer whiz. She’d been sure that when they graduated he would ask her to marry him. Then they would live happily ever after in Silicon Valley or wherever he landed a job. It had turned out to be Boston and, before she’d had time to even think about moving up there with him, he had given her the old “it’s been nice but, let’s be friends” talk. Bradley had decided to move on without her. He’d told her the morning after they’d finally had some spectacular sex. She’d almost had an orgasm. Almost. At least she’d felt like she been on the verge of one.
The clatter of boot heels on pavement echoed through the walkway as last minute patrons scurried to get in before the bucking started. They had time. According the voice of Adam Green coming over the loud speakers, Colt, the rodeo clown was just getting started on his routine—one she knew almost by heart.
“I asked for two,” said a young cowboy in an irritated voice. He was the last of the line, if she didn’t include Clay dawdling at the side.
She filled another cup and collected the money as the cowboy stomped off.
“Everything all right, Dusty?�
� Rico called from the next stand. He nodded in Clay’s direction and Clay tipped his hat. Rico was only a little taller than she was, but he was built like a bull dog and just as protective. He was an old-fashioned kind of gentleman when it came to women; a man who guarded those he considered family, and most people he knew were included in the definition.
“Everything is fine, Rico,” she said, and gave him a wink. After giving Clay another look, Rico went back to grilling. Her stomach rumbled and she prayed no one heard it. Usually, she’d be getting some leftovers from Rico right about now, given that bull riding closed the show.
“Aren’t you going to go watch?” she asked when Clay didn’t make a move.
He turned to her, tipping his hat up with the rim of the half-filled cup in his hand. Those blue eyes of his glinted in the late afternoon sunlight that cascaded through the open walls of the arena.
“No. I like the scenery out here better.”
The announcer said something to Colt, and the audience roared.
Ignoring the intent of his comment, she wiped down the counter with the gray rag. “When is he up?”
“Jesse should be riding fifth. There weren’t too many who landed with a chance at the money. Should be good for him.” He leaned his elbows on the counter and jutted out his tight buns. Dusty could see the worn denim pocket stretch where his wallet resided. “Of course if you want to watch Jesse...” His eyes searched hers for an answer.
She shook her head. “I don’t watch, especially not bull riding.” She could never watch after that day.
He frowned. “I would have thought a girl like you would participate in the rodeo. Thought you might be a natural at barrel racing, especially given your size, and growing up in Langley.”
She had been a natural. And she had loved it. She’d only raced here at the Lone Star arena, on a horse borrowed from Jenna Connors. She hadn’t been able to afford the fees, or the trailer, or the horse to make a run at it anywhere else. And then, after all that had happened, she’d lost her taste for it. It was bad enough working the rodeo as it was.
Not wanting to explain, she just shrugged in answer to his question. “You’d have thought wrong.”
He shifted as if to get a better look at her. “For a woman who grew up in a rodeo town and works at the rodeo, you don’t seem all that thrilled with rodeo or cowboys.”
She shrugged again. “Maybe I’ve just had my fill. Like when you have too much of anything, you can lose your appetite for it.”
He chuckled. “Some things, maybe. Other things, never. There are things I would never get my fill of or lose my appetite for—guaranteed.” His eyes glittered with amusement and something more, like he was talking about her, which was a foolish notion. She’d just met the man and they hadn’t exactly gotten off to a good start.
He took a slug of beer. Over the rim of the cup he took her measure from top to waist and back again. “Like that kiss last night,” he said in a low, sexy voice.
Heat rushed up her body like it was in a race for the finish line. In the distance some mother was arguing with her child about the bathroom. Say something. Anything
“Where’s home?” she asked. Her heart began beating again. She threw the rag under the counter and wondered how she would keep busy till closing if he intended to nurse that beer until then.
He sighed. “Near Marfa.”
“That’s where you’re a cowhand?”
“That’s where I work. Jesse said you’re a teacher?”
She gave him a short nod. “I’m trying to be. I’m looking for a job, actually.”
Adam was calling the bull rides now and, from the sound of things, not too many were hanging on.
“Here in Langley?”
She shook her head. She wanted a new start, a fresh beginning, and she didn’t think Langley would provide that. Not that she didn’t love the town. She did. She wanted to find one just like it. “My mom teaches here. I think I’d like to try someplace else. Not too far away. But something new. I’ve a job interview in Fort Davis on Thursday.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You could travel a little farther south and come see me at the ranch.”
“I can’t.”
“What is it about me, Miss Dusty, that gets your fur up?” He gave her a practiced smile, like a salesman who knows you aren’t going to buy but tries anyway. “I’m a hard-working man, just won the saddle bronc yesterday, so I’ve got some money in my pocket. And I’m trying to be respectful as hell and not lean over and continue that kiss that had me up all night. Yet you act like I’ve got some contagious disease.”
“Uh-oh.” The announcer’s words blasted from the speaker. “Hold on folks. He’ll be all right. Our medical team is on the field and they know what to do.”
Quick as lightening, Clay zoomed to the arena opening.
Dusty stood frozen as the world receded. Images from that day swamped her. Her father. Down. Not moving. The horns of the bull ramming him before the bulldoggers could distract the beast.
“It’s Jesse. I’ve got to go.” Clay was back before her, his face contorted, but she couldn’t answer him.
She felt his hands on her shoulders. Felt the shake.
“Yes. Go,” she managed to get out.
He was gone. Oh God, she prayed. Not again.
* * *
“I’m fine.” Jesse looked pitiful as he lay on the cot’s white mattress while a tall, thin man Dusty didn’t recognize wrapped tape around his middle. His face was pale, with cuts and scratches, his lean torso dotted with blue bruises. He looked anything but fine.
It had taken Dusty a few moments to recover after Clay left. She’d put the concession to rights, served the few stragglers who happened by, and as soon as the rodeo was officially over, she’d closed up and headed to the medical tent. Adam had announced that the cowboy just had the wind knocked out of him, but Dusty knew they always white-washed injuries for the crowd. No one would have a good time if they thought the cowboys actually got hurt. And most of them didn’t—not life-threatening hurt anyway. But rodeo—bull riding in particular—was an extreme sport, dangerous and hazardous to the health. All these years she’d been trying to figure out why cowboys did it, and she still had no answer.
She brushed a hand down Jesse’s cheek as the EMT finished up.
Jesse’s fingers came up to still hers as a smile claimed his face, or was that a grimace? It was hard to tell.
“That feels good, Dusty. So good I’ll be embarrassing myself with the medic here.” His eyes searched hers. She almost wished she could feel something for him. He seemed a safer harbor than Clay. More settled, more committed, less a player. But still a bull rider.
The EMT stepped closer. “You need to rest up and get this checked out with some x-rays. You don’t rate an ambulance ride, but you should stop by the Trauma Center. It’s out on the interstate. You pass it on the way out of town.” With a nod, the EMT gathered his things and proceeded to the cowboy on the other cot waiting his turn.
If her resolve was at all weakening where Clay was concerned, this incident shored it up. No way could she take the worry of watching a rough stock rider she cared about on any animal. Of course, Clay wasn’t looking for a relationship—and Jesse probably wasn’t either. They were just interested in a good time. The kind of time that would have landed one of them in her bed. It was Sunday afternoon, and they would be going home. Soon the temptation would be over.
Still, the sight of Jesse laid out called up tender feelings. “Is there anything I can do? You want something to drink or eat? You can eat can’t you?”
“Yeah, none of my vital organs were touched. None of them.” He gave her a wink.
Clay hovered nearer. “Need help getting up?” he asked in a clipped tone. He sounded unreasonably irritated with Jesse for getting thrown.
“A hand would be nice,” Jesse said.
Dusty moved aside as Clay came around to brace Jesse’s back. Clay offered his hand. Jesse clasped it, and let out a dee
p moan as Clay pulled him up.
“Hell, if these are just bruised I’d hate to think what it would feel like if I broke ‘em.”
Clay scowled. “You don’t know you haven’t. We’ve got to get you to the hospital so they can x-ray those ribs.”
“There ain’t nothing different they are going to be able to do if they’re broken. Just means I won’t be feeling better for a longer while. No need for a hospital.”
“What if something else is a problem? What if something else got busted?”
Like a lung got punctured? Dusty shuddered.
Clay must have seen that shudder because he placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “I’ll see he does the right thing, Dusty. He’s just bull-headed, as always.”
Gingerly, Jesse moved off the table. “There is one thing you could do for me, Dusty,” he said as he stood before her, pale, and probably weaker than he was admitting.
“What?” she asked as she glanced at Clay. He looked like a man getting ready to object, his feet spread apart, his hands tense at his side.
Jesse’s finger skimmed her jaw. He was going to kiss her. In an attempt to stave off the caress she quickly gave him a peck on his swollen cheek. He grimaced.
“Not quite the kiss I had in mind but guess it will do,” he said in a low voice.
“Come on Romeo, we’ve got to make tracks. I’ve got chores waiting, yours and mine,” Clay growled.
Jesse didn’t move. “Will you be here next week?”
She gulped. “Next week?” Surely this was it. They weren’t coming back. Were they?
Jesse nodded. “Sure, next week. I didn’t earn enough yet to get those boots from that pretty blonde who owns the saddlery, and Clay’s got a heck of a lot more to earn.”
She didn’t understand. “Are you cowhands or rodeo riders?”
“Both,” they said in unison.
“We’ll be back, Dusty,” Clay said. “At least one of us will.”
