Lassoed by Love (The Cowboys of BlueSong Series Book 3)

by Rose Verde

  Wyatt waited for the couple in front of him to move on. He filled his plate and went to join his brother and friends at their table. His senses hummed with the fact that Crissy was just a few tables away.

  He hadn't known Melissa would invite her. She laughed at something his sister said and his pulse stuttered. What he said was true, no matter what his heart thought. Trust wasn't built on emotions and truths be told, they'd had lots of those.

  How come his heart didn't agree?

  “You two got into a fight?” Rait asked.

  “Chelsea?” He didn't want to talk about what the manipulating woman said to him. Who did she take him for? A puppet on a string? If she thought the announcement of her wedding would make him jealous, then she had another thought coming. Maybe he was a little bit jealous. After all they had dated since high school and just like that she’d moved on from the crippled guy to a new man. The anger he’d built up for her had fueled him in his recovery. Maybe he had her to thank for that at least.

  “Are you listening?” Rait whispered. “Crissy. She keeps casting longing glances at you. What’s going on with you too, anyway?”

  Wyatt chanced a glance in her direction. Their gazes met and held. One second. Then two. Her smile froze. She looked away. Dressed in a knee length dress that hugged her trim waist, her hair in a low bun, she was beautiful.

  Swallowing, he returned his attention to his food. “Not really. We decided to take things slow. I don't need distractions right now.”

  “That wasn't the impression you gave us all of last week. I mean, she went with you all the way to London to ride. You guys seemed so happy. Did something happen on the trip?”

  Wyatt continued eating. The food tasted like dust on the arena’s dirt floor.

  “Talk to me, man.”

  “I'm not sure what to say. We just decided to take a break.”

  “Who made that decision?”

  “I did.”

  “Did she agree? From the way she's looking at you, I assume otherwise.”

  Wyatt didn't answer. What if it wasn't what he thought? His face heating, he said simply, “I just told her and walked away.”

  “That's fear talking. You're afraid to let yourself fall for anyone because you've been betrayed. Lucky you, Chelsea only used the press. My friend’s girlfriend, Yvonne, had an affair with his best friend. He actually caught them red-handed on the day he was planning to propose. Thank God, he found out. It was devastating but he's married today and doing well. Don't punish a woman for something that is no fault of hers.”

  Wyatt glanced in Crissy’s direction. This time, she snatched her gaze away fast.

  Maybe he'd just come out and ask her. If all of that was just some kind of deception just to get a story, would she actually have the gaul to show up at his church? He just couldn’t figure out her angle. He wanted to know, but that would be later. Unlike Chelsea, he would not use a church service to make a scene.

  CRISSY HIT SUBMIT ON the third job application for that day. She massaged her neck to ease the pain. Pam and Fred were slated to return by evening and Crissy already had her things packed. She'd been listening for Wyatt to come feed the animals, but hadn’t heard him yet.

  Her phone rang. It was Becca. Crissy wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter, so she hit the silent button and let it go to voicemail.

  Within seconds, she had a voice message waiting for her. She hit the button and let it play.

  “Crissy, call me as soon as you get this!” Her voice sounded worried. “I need to speak to you right away.”

  Without even thinking about it, Crissy called her back. Becca answered on the first ring.

  “Crissy, I’m so glad you called me back.”

  “Becca, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

  “I'm fine.” She was quiet for a spell.

  “Well, your voicemail didn’t sound like you were fine. What’s going on?”

  “Crissy I don't know how to say this.” She rushed on. “I mistakenly forwarded the document you sent to Nick. I didn’t mean to. It was in the same folder with the ones I was working on and before I realized it, I had tagged the whole folder ... including yours.”

  “You're kidding, right?” Crissy covered her mouth, her belly dropping to her feet.

  “Wish I were. Didn't realize it until he asked this morning. I just stepped out of his office to give you a heads up. I'm really sorry.”

  Crissy sighed. What would she do? Wyatt would hate her for sure.

  A beep sounded. “I think he's calling already. Talk to you later.” Nick’s nickname, Bossy Boss, popped on her screen. Swallowing, she swiped the screen to accept the call.

  “Why did you not send the article straight to me,” he said without preamble.

  “Uh...”

  “It’s great. Your last articles with the pictures have generated quite some positive response. This will nail it.”

  “Sir, unfortunately, we can't publish it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don't have consent.”

  “So, how did you get this information?”

  “He shared it, but he hadn't meant it to be something that went out to the media.”

  For the first time, Nick seemed to be short of words.

  “I'll give him a call then.” And the phone went dead in her ears.

  Why hadn't she made a better effort at talking to Wyatt yesterday? Was it because she'd been jealous about seeing him with Chelsea, or how popular with the women he was? Of course she hadn’t wanted to make a scene at the church, but surely she could have taken him aside afterward.

  She had to go now and tell him before he heard it from Nick. Yes, that’s what she would do. She’d go over there and explain it all to him and tell him that if he didn’t feel comfortable, to just tell Nick that he will not consent to publishing the article. She would be out of a job, but doing the right thing mattered more than keeping her job.

  “Yeah, tell that to my bank account!”

  Crissy ran into the powder room and grabbed a brush. After hurriedly pulling it through her hair to put the tangled mess in a semblance of order, she came out of the room.

  The doorbell rang and she jumped.

  Her belly churned, whatever was left of her breakfast threatening to make an appearance. How was she going to tell him?

  The chiming came again and Crissy tucked wisps of hair behind her ear as she walked to the door. She yanked it open as the doorbell rang a third time.

  For a moment, they stared at each other. His blue eyes blazed. Had Nick called him already? He must've been on the property to be here this quick.

  “You said I had nothing to worry about.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “I'm so sorry.” She wasn't sure what else to say. She could pretend not to know what he was talking about, but to what intent? Nick was tenacious that way.

  “Which is it? Going ahead with writing things about me when you know how dead set I am against it or lying to me about it?”

  “Want to come in?”

  “No. I just came to find out something.”

  Crissy gulped, her pulse drumming in her ears. “Okay.”

  “Was I just a pawn in your hand to further your career? Was this some calculated effort on your part?” he asked tightly.

  The heat from the scorching inferno in his eyes fanned over her. Her shoulders sagged. Calculated aptly described her coming, but not in the way he thought. What did it matter? “No. There’s nothing I can say that will make things better. I'm sorry.”

  He shook his head and without a backward glance, turned toward the back of the house, probably heading back to his. She should've seen the handwriting on the wall.

  She closed the door, leaned against it, and slid down until she was on her haunches.

  Why hadn’t she told him the truth? That she had come there to get a story and ended up falling in love? It sounded unbelievable even to her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The chute flew
open as soon as Wyatt gave the signal. Bullet swung his powerful body against the chute gate, shifting Wyatt’s momentum. Righting himself was no use because he was soon sailing over the bull's head. Narrowly missing the three foot wide sturdy horns, he hit the ground with a thud. Momentarily, he fought to push air into his lungs.

  The mighty hoof clipped him on the side before the bull fighters sent the animal off running in the opposite direction. His ribs burned. Within a split second, he was helped to his feet.

  Wyatt held his side. He knew his ribs weren’t broken—he'd had a couple of those to know. But he'd be sporting a huge bruise.

  He needed to shake the feeling that had held him bound all week. Crissy had just let him have his say and apologized. She hadn't pretended to not know what he was talking about, neither offered any defense. Yeah, because she had none.

  Why did he not feel better after cutting her out of his life? The melancholy he felt when he’d first said they should take a break had only intensified over the week.

  “What happened to you, buddy?” Cory, his closest friend, asked when they got to the locker room.

  If he was going to get back on the circuit, he needed to get his act together. As it were, this weekend was a waste. He’d messed up the days, his rides. “I'm good.” When his friend's eyebrows rose, Wyatt said, “Really.”

  “You might want to reconsider if you're fully fit to make a comeback just yet. I understand the feelings, but if you're not ready, it's okay to wait. Rule number one is to stay alive. At this rate, I'm afraid for you.”

  The doctor walked in and Cory stepped out. By the time the doctor was done with his assessments, Wyatt had an ice pack over the huge discoloration on his side, he was ready to hit the road and head home.

  But Wyatt couldn't make himself get up. What was it with him, anyway?

  Crissy had betrayed him. He’d given her his journal out of trust. He’d bared his soul to her, and she’d...

  “That girl loves you,” Melissa had said after the potluck.

  She had a great way of showing it.

  Remembering the times they’d spent together - the shopping, and restaurants. The trip to London. Holding hands ... kissing. Could all of that have been faked just for a news article? No one was that good.

  He groaned and leaned his head against the backrest, closing his eyes.

  Her face snuck into his mind and his eyes shot open.

  What was wrong with him?

  “I CAN'T BELIEVE HE let you go.” Becca huffed.

  “We had an agreement I couldn't fulfill, and that's okay. Hopefully, I'll hear from the companies I applied to within the next week.”

  Losing her job didn't compare to the heavy ache that had settled in her gut since Wyatt turned his back and walked away.

  “You think he saw the email? Why not just give him a call?”

  “And say what? I sent him the article on Monday. Today is Sunday. What if he just doesn’t want to know what I have to say?”

  Melissa had been gracious to send her his email address and she’d taken a chance at sending it to him. What if that ticked him off too?

  “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “Crazy, right? I know. We seemed to have...” She searched for the appropriate word. “A connection. But boy did I mess that one up. ” Crissy marveled that she was dry-eyed when gloom had been her companion all week. She sighed. “For a moment there, he made me believe in me, but how can I blame him? I should have been honest with him from the start. One thing I'm glad for, is that I was able to help my cousin, and things are looking well for them now. That’s a good thing.”

  “I agree, but we miss you at work.”

  “I do too. I've never been claustrophobic but these days it feels like the walls are closing in. I can't seem to figure out why.”

  “I'd say you should go out, but everyone you could visit will be at work. How about we go kayaking like we wanted to do two weeks ago before you left for the ranch?”

  “Great idea. By the way, I'm in the mood for some comfort food.” The earlier she accepted that what happened between her and Wyatt was a passing phase, which was over before it began, the better.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dinner was long over. Wyatt sat in the barn staring at the spot where Crissy had fallen only days ago. Memory was cruel. He hated the way his mind re-lived everything he'd done with Crissy in those two short weeks. They were better than all the years he had with Chelsea.

  Noah walked in.

  “Aren't you supposed to be home with your wife?” Wyatt asked.

  He dropped beside Wyatt on the bench. “I won't be long.” He looked at Wyatt. “I hate to see you like this. I want to help. What can I do?”

  Wyatt gave his brother a lopsided smile. “Nothing. I'll be fine.”

  Silence settled between them.

  After a moment, Noah said, “How about you ask to see what she wrote about you? I've been checking their magazine lately. To the best of my knowledge, your story hasn't been published. I think that says something.”

  “Other than I could make a case out of it?”

  “Chelsea knew you didn’t want to be the topic of her story and went ahead all the same. Think about that.”

  It was true. If Crissy had feelings for him like he thought she did, would she write anything against him? Not that he had offended her in any way.

  “Talk to her. I’m not sure if you've looked in the mirror lately. Plus your bad rides... You've gone grumpy on all of us. Are you sure you really didn't hit your head last time you fell?” Noah’s voice was teasing.

  “Very funny.”

  Noah rose and squeezed Wyatt on the shoulder. “If you need me, just holler.”

  “Sure. My regards to your wife.”

  “She’ll hear. And don't dash our hopes of another wedding.”

  Wyatt snorted and watched his brother walk away. It’d been two weeks since Crissy left. Would she even take his call? Her absence was like a hole in his heart.

  When he’d stepped through the barn door earlier, memories had flooded in—Crissy on the bull, him changing the speed and suddenly throwing her, the kisses they shared. It broke down the walls of his anger.

  Here he was, sitting on the same bench where they'd sat that night and talked. Did he take his paranoia too far? Why did he not ask to see the article like Noah said? Did she even miss him? How had he thought he was better off without her?

  He laid down on the bench as memory after memory poured into his mind, washing over him.

  He heaved a heavy sigh.

  Undecided, he clicked on his Facebook page. Cory had tagged him in a post, expressing his joy at seeing him back to riding.

  Wyatt responded with a tap dance Gif. He scrolled through a few pages and then clicked off. He'd never really been a fan of social media. Going through people's stories always had a way of exhausting him.

  He signed off and decided to check the pile of email that had come in all week. He hadn't felt like checking them, hadn't felt like doing a lot of things in days. Most times, they were emails from things he subscribed for and never got to use.

  True to words, email after email was nothing but junkmail. He deleted each of them. The subject of the last one was in caps. PLEASE READ!

  He clicked on it.

  I hope this finds you well.

  He scanned to the end. It was signed by Chrystolle Spencer. Not Crissy...

  He went back to find his place.

  I feel I owe you an apology. Truth is, I suggested doing a western feature for our magazine because my boss was hoping to increase subscriptions. He agreed but on the condition that I interviewed someone for it. I had initially told Pam I couldn't come watch her house while she was away. Long story short, Nick gave me 14 days to get the job done or lose my job. Except that I realized you were not amenable to media posts about you. I was hoping you'd like what I wrote and agree to its publication. I never intended to publish the article without your permission.

>   I take responsibility for everything that happened. I'd sent it to Becca because she wanted to read what I wrote about you. Unfortunately, she sent it to Nick in error.

  You were never a pawn in my hands. I care too much for you to have done that.

  I just wanted to say I'm sincerely sorry.

  Chrystolle Spencer

  PS: Find attached the document. I've deleted everything about you in my system. Becca too. I think Nick may still have his copy but he won't publish it without your consent. I made sure of that. It was nice knowing you and spending those two weeks with you.

  Wyatt wiped the moisture from his eyes. He tapped the document to download it.

  When he opened it, he read the introduction that talked about him and his aspirations. In the body, she'd used a day in his journal.

  He scrolled to the last part.

  LIFE BEYOND THE ARENA: When the curtains are drawn, every bull rider knows the risk he faces when he climbs on the back of a massive animal weighing close to a ton or more. Only one thing keeps them going back again - passion for what they do.

  W. Danner had suffered a setback injury that took him from the ninth position in the world standing to starting almost from the bottom.

  But I see a man who overcame the odds even when they were stacked sky high to make a comeback.

  He's also a contributory part of a team geared towards changes in the rodeo world. Because of his efforts alongside the family and friends of his late friend who committed suicide after a series of head injuries, every rodeo will have medical personnel on ground to attend to riders. Plus, they now have awareness programs to educate riders about head injuries and its aftermath in a bid to remove the stigma and help people speak up and get help.

  Do you have a friend, a brother who would love us to tell his story from his perspective? Drop us a line at Crissy@RMM.com

  Wyatt scrubbed a hand across his face.

  What had he done?

  “YOU’RE FREE TO GO. You’ll hear from us soon.”

  Crissy thanked the lady, took her bag, and walked out of the company. Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Nick? He better not be asking her to convince Wyatt to give permission to run the article again. She'd do no such thing.