* * *
THE LAST PERSON Ronnie had expected to see today—any day, truth be told—was Nate Truett. Not after she’d left him with no explanation.
He should hate her and probably did. That didn’t stop him from being the one guy she’d struggled to forget and couldn’t. The one who made every man she met pale in comparison.
Now, here he stood, not eighteen inches away from her and wearing the same heart-stopping, tummy-fluttering smile that had caused her to fall for him in the first place.
“What are you thinking?” he asked in the husky drawl that still invaded her dreams.
“Nothing.”
I hurt you badly, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just walked out like that. It was wrong and not what you deserved. But nothing’s changed.
“Sam,” she amended. Safe conversation gave nothing away while ignoring him would reveal too much.
“Sam?”
“You know my dad. Nicknames for all his daughters.”
“I’d forgotten, Rhonda.”
She rolled her eyes, wishing she’d never told him. “Sam has a lot of talent. She can also be stubborn to a fault.”
“I wonder where she gets that?” Nate moved marginally closer.
Ronnie stilled, acutely aware of him. “I’m only stubborn when I’m right.”
“Which, if memory serves, is always.”
“Not true.” Sorrow consumed her. “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten.”
“Ronnie.”
She forced herself to stroll casually away, intent on removing herself from his rugged good looks, aw-shucks charm and dancing blue eyes that by all counts should be outlawed. Naturally, he followed her, further weakening her already vulnerable state.
Heaving a soft groan, she reached for the top railing of the arena fence, using it to steady her wobbly knees. If she weren’t careful, Nate might realize her feelings for him weren’t completely extinguished. His ego was already big enough.
At least, it used to be. He did seem a bit more...humble than before, something she found both out of character and intriguing.
“Big John is a valuable horse,” she said, staring off at the distant McDowell Mountains. Anywhere other than at Nate. “I’d hate to see him turned into a kid’s mount because of an injury.”
“I agree. Championship horses cost a lot of money. I doubt Samantha can afford to buy a new one.” He lowered his voice to the range that had always sent a delicious tingle skittering up her spine. “It’s really nice of you to let her borrow your horse.”
She started to tell him more about Sam’s sudden appearance this past summer and how she, Mel and Frankie had been devastated to learn their father had lied to them for nearly two decades. At the last second, she bit her tongue. She and Nate didn’t have that kind of relationship anymore.
“How are your sisters?” he asked. “They were always a hoot and a half.”
“Fine.”
“Just fine?”
“What did Sam’s mom tell you?” She spared him a quick glance.
“That besides starting her own vet practice, Mel got married, and Frankie has twin girls.”
There was actually considerably more, such as Mel being pregnant, Frankie’s new catering business, the recent return of the twins’ father and the sizable amount of money Ronnie’s father had won in the state lottery. She mentioned none of it.
Nate reached for her left hand, sending a sudden zing racing through her system. She clamped her mouth shut before a gasp escaped.
“What are you doing!” she demanded.
“No wedding ring, I see.”
Bristling, she reclaimed her hand. “Sam’s mom skip that part?”
“As a matter of fact, she didn’t.”
“Then why—” She abruptly stopped when he broke into laughter. “You’re such a...” Damn him for flustering her.
“Can’t blame me for trying. You always had the softest skin.”
“How long are you staying in Mustang Valley?”
As intended, her question sobered him. “I’m not sure. A couple days. Possibly longer. It all depends.”
“On what?” Please don’t say me.
“Sam, for starters.”
She resisted asking what else. “I thought you were heading to Houston.”
“There’s no rush.”
The humbleness Ronnie had noticed before returned. Though, on second thought, she decided it might be something else. Embarrassment, possibly? Or secrecy? For whatever reason, Nate was definitely holding back.
“Where are you staying?” she asked.
That earned her a lengthy once-over. “Why do you care?”
“I’m not coming over, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
“Darn it.” He feigned disappointment. “Foiled again.”
“Seriously, Nate. There’s the Morning Side Inn.”
For a moment, he appeared as if he might deliver another jab. Instead, his expression changed and he said, “I have my horse trailer. The one with living quarters. I just need to find a place to park it. Hopefully, near wherever I wind up boarding Breeze.”
Ronnie’s determination to remain indifferent instantly dissolved. “You still have Breeze? How old is she now? I figured you might have retired her.”
“She’s twenty-one. And retired, other than pleasure riding. I thought about leaving her at my folks’ place.”
“Except you couldn’t bear to part with her.” Ronnie was admittedly touched.
“We’ve been together a long time.”
Nate had owned the mare since he’d competed on the junior circuit in high school. Besides rising to bull and bronc riding fame, he’d also won multiple steer wrestling championships—all of them on Breeze.
“The Morning Side Inn has stalls to lease,” she offered.
“We’ll see.” Again, his expression changed, as if he were hiding something.
Ronnie had to ask. “Is Sam the only reason you came?”
He hesitated briefly before saying, “It’s enough of a reason.”
His lack of a real answer worried her.
“Are you and Sam close?”
She’d yet to wrap her brain around the incredible coincidence that her half sister was the daughter of his mom’s best friend. She’d met his parents a few times, naturally, just like he’d met her dad and sisters when they’d visited Mustang Valley. But never his mom’s best friend and certainly not Sam.
“Not especially close,” he said. “I’d see her at holiday dinners and birthday parties. But her mom is a good friend to mine. She helped us a lot after Allan passed.”
Ronnie hadn’t known Nate’s brother; he’d died from cystic fibrosis before she and Nate met. But Nate had frequently talked about Allan and the mark both he and his absence had left on Nate’s life.
“Sam and her parents aren’t getting along too well these days,” Ronnie said. “Did your mom mention that, too? According to Sam, it’s because they don’t support her decision to skip college and become a professional barrel racer.”
“They also weren’t crazy about her running off in search of your dad without mentioning a word to them.”
Ronnie hadn’t been crazy about Sam finding their father, either. Not in the beginning. Learning he’d been involved with a younger woman and had a child with her took a lot of getting used to.
“Trust me,” she said. “The news was a shock to all of us.”
“She’s lucky.” For the first time since Ronnie had reclaimed her hand from his, Nate looked at her. “Not all biological families are as accepting as yours.”
“None of what happened was her fault. We weren’t about to hold the mistakes our respective parents made against her.” A thought occurred to Ronnie. “Did your mom know about my dad? Did you?”
“No.
We were as surprised as anyone.”
At that moment, Sam emerged from the stables astride Ronnie’s horse, Comanche. The handsome, muscular gelding might not be Sam’s first choice, but no one could deny the pair made an impression as she trotted him toward the arena. One of the ranch hands, who happened to be in the vicinity, opened the gate for her.
Fortunately, no one else was practicing at this time of day. In another six weeks, when school let out for winter break, Powell Ranch would be packed from morning until evening.
“You ready?” Sam hollered from her position at the south end of the arena.
Nate took out his phone and opened the stopwatch app. “All set,” he hollered back.
Sam studied the cloverleaf course while adjusting her weight in the saddle.
“Take your time,” Ronnie muttered under her breath. “Don’t rush.”
Comanche stared straight ahead, nervously prancing in place. He knew his job and was eagerly awaiting the signal from Sam. The next second, she gave it. Trotting him in a tight circle, she suddenly spurred him into a full-speed-ahead gallop and made for the first barrel.
Ronnie glanced briefly at Nate to confirm what she already knew—that he was timing Sam’s run.
How often had he done the same for her when she’d been practicing? She couldn’t begin to count. During the years they’d been together, he’d supported her tirelessly and without fail.
Until the day she’d miscarried and their world had changed.
Her fault. Entirely. He’d tried hard to make things right by proposing two months later on Valentine’s Day. In her mind, she saw the small, red velvet box and the glittering heart-shaped diamond ring. So very pretty. She’d needed all her willpower to tell him no.
As one would expect, he’d been crushed and unable to accept that their relationship was too broken to fix. But Ronnie had, and two days later, she’d left him and the place they’d shared in Abilene behind, convinced a quick and clean parting was best for both of them.
Sadly, she’d been mistaken. Those dozens of voice mail messages he’d left had been filled with pain and anguish. And for months afterward, mutual friends had had nothing good to report, saying Nate had stopped competing, dropped out of sight and broken the terms of multiple endorsement contracts. By the following year, their mutual friends had had no idea where he was or what had happened to him.
Ronnie had tried telling herself the same thing would have happened regardless of how delicately she’d handled the breakup. Sometimes, she almost believed it. Mostly, she regretted her actions. Nate had done nothing wrong, was, in fact, a great boyfriend and had been deserving of far more from her. She’d been the one consumed by grief and guilt. The one who’d wanted out.
“Whoo-hoo!” Sam gave a loud hoot as she rounded the last barrel and galloped for the finish line.
Head stretched out and tail flying, the Comanche ran for all he was worth. Crossing the finish line, Sam slowed the horse as they passed through the gate, then brought him back around.
Ronnie didn’t have to wait for Nate’s announcement. Instinct, honed from years of competing, followed by years of teaching, told her Sam’s time was in the money.
“Sixteen-point-three-six seconds.” He showed her the phone. “Not bad for a pattern this size.”
“From what Sam has told me, that’s very close to Big John’s time pre-injury.”
“Meaning she can do as well on Comanche as Big John.”
Ronnie pushed off the arena fence. “If she wants. Which she doesn’t.”
“Put yourself in her shoes. What was it like when you competed on a horse that wasn’t yours? It can be intimidating.”
Before Ronnie could respond, Sam trotted over, Comanche’s sides continuing to heave from his exertion. With nimble ease, she jumped off, the reins loosely clutched between her fingers. “How’d we do?”
Nate told her.
She frowned. “Better than I thought.”
“Then why are you mad?”
“I’m not.”
Except, she was. If Ronnie were to guess, she’d say the horse’s more than decent performance hadn’t bolstered Sam’s argument that she needed Big John in order to qualify for Nationals.
Nate pocketed his phone. “You were a little slow changing leads on that last barrel.”
Ronnie had also noticed the lag but refrained from commenting. She and Sam regularly engaged in this same argument. Sam always blamed the horse and did again today.
“It’s not my fault. I have to cue him twice before he changes leads.”
“Maybe you need to practice more. The partnership between horse and rider doesn’t happen overnight. It can take months, years even, to perfect.”
Something else Ronnie had tried to tell Sam, without much success.
“You’re right.” The teenager flashed Nate an apologetic smile. “I can’t help getting impatient.”
What? Ronnie blinked. Had Sam really just agreed with Nate when all she ever did with Ronnie was fight? Increasingly so these last weeks as the competitive season drew nearer and nearer to an end.
“Will you stay the next two weeks and help me?” She grabbed Nate’s arm with her free hand. “Please. I know I can qualify with you coaching me.”
Coaching her? Wasn’t that Ronnie’s job?
She coughed and cleared her throat. “I think Nate’s on his way to Houston.”
“That can wait.” He sent her a look that probably wasn’t dismissive but felt that way nonetheless.
“Yes.” Sam’s face exploded in a huge smile. “I’m so happy.”
Not Ronnie. “We wouldn’t wish to inconvenience you,” she said dryly.
“No inconvenience. I’ll juggle my schedule.”
If only she could do the same and leave town for the next two weeks. Unfortunately, obligations to her family, her barrel racing business and her students kept her rooted in Mustang Valley for the foreseeable future.
A future that, temporarily at least, now included Nate Truett.
Chapter Two
“Where’s the rodeo this weekend?” Nate asked. He led Breeze while Samantha—he supposed he should get used to calling her Sam—walked beside him. They’d been circling the grounds for the last fifteen minutes, letting the old mare stretch her legs a bit before returning her to the trailer.
“Kingman. The Annual Andy Devine Days. We need to be on the road no later than 6:00 a.m. Friday morning.”
That gave him the rest of today, plus Wednesday and Thursday, to find a place to park his trailer and earn some quick cash.
“I like Kingman. Those were the days...”
“Was that where you earned your first championship?” she asked.
“Hardly. But I did win my first buckle there. In steer wrestling.”
“Not bull riding?”
“If I recall correctly, I came in dead last.”
“No way!”
“It’s true.” He’d been all of eighteen and, just like Sam, brand new to professional rodeoing. “I lasted a whopping one-point-two seconds before T-Rex dumped me face-first into the dirt.”
“You remember the bull’s name?”
“He made an impression.”
The truth was, Nate had been scared witless when T-Rex executed an abrupt one-eighty and charged. It was without doubt the quickest he’d ever scrambled to his feet and scaled the fence. The small scar on his left shin was a constant reminder of just how close the bull’s hoof had come to slicing his leg open.
“We’ll probably take Ronnie’s truck and trailer to Kingman,” Sam said. “Is that okay with you? There’s enough room for all of us to bunk in the camper.”
“I’ll get a hotel room.” Not that he had much money for a hotel. Unless his luck changed.
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I am.” Sure
that Ronnie wouldn’t bunk in the same camper with him even if her life depended on it.
He and Sam turned the corner of the horse barn, trading late October sunshine for chilly shade. Ronnie hadn’t come with them. She’d made some excuse about returning a phone call and hightailed it to the ranch office. From the look on Ronnie’s face when he’d accepted Sam’s invitation to stay, she needed some alone time to process this unexpected development.
Not nice of him, for sure. He really should have called ahead and given her fair warning. Only, deep down, a small part of him still resented her for rejecting his proposal, and for her brutal handling of their breakup—which must mean an equally small part of him still cared for her. Not that he’d admit as much, to her or anyone else.
At his truck, Sam held Breeze’s lead rope while Nate lowered the trailer’s rear gate. With very little prodding, the old brown mare meandered in and waited for Nate to secure her lead rope to the metal ring.
“Are there any cheap places in the area I can park my trailer? Preferably one that rents spaces by the day or week.”
“Why not stay at Ronnie’s?” Sam offered. “She has room. There’s just her now that Mel moved out. And since you two already know each other—”
“Room for what?”
Nate and Sam both turned at the sound of Ronnie’s voice. “Nothing,” he said, hoping Sam took the hint and kept quiet.
She didn’t. “Can Nate park his truck and trailer at your house?”
“Um...ah...”
“Don’t worry about it.” Nate let Ronnie off the hook with a casual wave. “I’ll find something. Besides, I need a place for Breeze, too.”
“She has an empty stall,” Sam persisted.
Ronnie shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s my house, and I get to decide who stays. Not you.”
“You’re saying no just because I asked,” Sam complained, clearly not liking that her idea was being shot down. “And because I want to use Big John instead of your horse.”
“Trust me, those aren’t the reasons.”
The Bull Rider's Valentine Page 2
