Tanner
An American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Romance
Sarah Mayberry
Tanner
Copyright © 2017 Sarah Mayberry
Kindle Edition
The Tule Publishing Group, LLC
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-946772-24-4
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
The American Extreme Bull Riders Tour
Excerpt from Chase
More Books by Sarah Mayberry
About the Author
Acknowledgements
A huge thank you to the amazing Jane Porter for thinking of me for this series. After not writing any of my own words for over a year due to Real Life interfering, this book helped me find my mojo again. Thank you, Jane, for your support and faith in me. Also big thanks to the Tule team for their patience and flexibility – it really is a joy to work with you ladies. Thanks to Mel for the prompt read-through and words of wisdom, and – finally – thanks to Chris and Max for the meals and patience and support (Chris’s territory!) and the snuggles and licks and playtime (Max’s wheelhouse). You make it all worthwhile.
Chapter One
You look amazing in that dress. Bet you’d look even better out of it.
Evie Forrester smiled to herself, snuggling her cheek against the hard economy headrest, not quite asleep, but not quite awake, either.
What else had Troy said that fateful night?
That’s right, he’d said she smelled like home, and then he’d kissed her and her world had turned on its head. Even though it had been nearly three months since that night, she could still feel his arms around her, hard as steel from the hours he spent dueling with huge muscle-bound bulls on the professional bull-riding circuit. The part after that first kiss was a bit blurry, even though she’d tried so hard to preserve the memories. She could remember lying in his arms afterward, though, the sheets tangled around their legs. That part was clear as a bell.
His heartbeat drumming beneath her ear, slow and steady.
The rise and fall of his chest.
The rumble of his voice as they talked about everything and nothing, long into the small hours.
She could remember the look in his eyes when he kissed her goodbye at the airfield the next day, too. He’d touched her cheek and promised to email and text, and she’d promised to visit him in the US as soon as she could. Then he’d walked across the dusty airstrip to the plane and she’d done her best not to cry until he’d been out of sight.
“Excuse me, ma’am. The captain has started our descent. I need you to return your chair to the upright position and open the blind for me, please,” a polite voice said.
It took a few seconds for the words to penetrate Evie’s doze. Then her eyes popped open and she jerked upright in her seat.
“Are we here already?” she asked. It seemed as though they’d only left Dallas minutes ago.
“We’ll be at the gate in twenty minutes, ma’am. So if you could just adjust your seat and take care of the window for me…?”
“Of course. Sorry. Thank you,” Evie said, fumbling with the seat before pushing the window blind up.
“Enjoy your stay,” the attendant said before heading off down the aisle to corral the next inattentive passenger.
Yawning hugely, Evie stretched out her back. She’d been traveling for more than twenty-four hours and counting, and the thought of a bed and a shower and food that didn’t come in little compartments and individual serves made her itch to be out of this flying tin tube. Reining in her impatience, she glanced out the window, squinting against the bright sunlight. They were flying over patch-worked farmland, fields of yellow and green bisected by the occasional road. No sign of the outskirts of Tulsa yet.
That didn’t stop adrenalin from surging through her belly. Within an hour, she’d be looking into Troy’s green eyes and watching his handsome face light up as he realized she’d flown halfway around the world to surprise him. She’d timed her visit to coincide with the Easter break in the American Extreme Bull Riders Tour schedule, which meant she and Troy would have two whole weeks together before she had to fly back home to Townsville to complete the final year of her Veterinary Science degree. Plenty of time for them to consolidate their fledgling relationship.
Adrenalin surged again, sending a shiver of pure nervousness through her.
Not nervousness, excitement, she told herself.
She was excited about seeing Troy again, not nervous. They’d been texting and talking via FaceTime, and exchanging letters via email. Admittedly, his responses had all been pretty short, but Troy had never been the kind of guy to spend hours in front of a computer.
The next two weeks would be a dream come true for her, the fulfillment of her most cherished dream: her and Troy, together at last.
She let out a long, shuddery breath, forcing herself to release the tension banding her shoulders, and told herself to calm the hell down. There was nothing to be worried about. Troy was practically a member of her family, and had been for nearly ten years, ever since her father took him under his wing when Troy was sent to her family’s cattle station, Forrester’s Landing, as a troubled sixteen-year-old.
It had been a Hail Mary attempt by a desperate social worker to try to keep Troy out of juvenile detention, his latest step on the slippery slope toward career criminal. A stint working under the hot sun of Australia’s Top End, breathing in red dust and her father’s no-bullshit, honest guidance had been the lifeline Troy hadn’t known he was looking for. It had taken a month for him to lose the surly, narrow-eyed look he’d had when her father picked him up from town. It had taken him a little longer to smile, but when he did, Evie had slipped the rest of the way in love with the rangy, taciturn bad boy from the city.
He’d barely looked at her, of course. She’d been fourteen, skinny and flat-chested, and her brother, Aaron, had been Troy’s age. The two of them had gravitated to each other naturally, quickly forging a friendship that was unbroken to this day.
She’d looked at Troy, though. She’d been overjoyed when her parents decided to offer him a permanent home with her family, and she’d proceeded to spy on him like a KGB agent, gathering intel on his likes and dislikes, his habits a
nd preferences. She’d memorized his walk—cocky, with one shoulder held just a fraction higher than the other—and the way he tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and looked at the ground when he was uncomfortable. She’d made sure her mum made Anzac biscuits at least once a week, because she knew they were Troy’s favorite. And she’d made sure she was always there when the boys went swimming in the old water tank.
Some of her earliest fantasies had been born out of those afternoons watching Troy pull himself out of the dusty water, his long, lean body gleaming in the sun.
Talk about an awakening.
Unfortunately, Troy had remained staunchly unawakened where she was concerned. Over the next three years, he proceeded to overlook the fact that Evie’s breasts finally chose to arrive. He failed to acknowledge her discovery of mascara, lipstick, and the difference a good haircut could make, too, as well as the fact that she was madly, completely, obsessively in love with him.
She’d watched him hook up with other girls from town, crying herself to sleep as she wondered why he never looked at her the way he looked at them. Eventually, she’d convinced herself it was never going to happen. It had taken a while, but she’d gotten there. For whatever reason, he didn’t see her in that way.
She’d moved on. Given her first kiss, then her virginity to Tom Wilson. Given up on ever having Troy love her the way she loved him. She’d gone to university to study to become a veterinarian and made plans for her future that didn’t include him.
Then he’d come home from America to be best man at her brother’s wedding this Christmas, and she’d seen his surprise when he looked at her. She’d seen the admiration in his eyes, the speculation. Finally—finally—he’d looked at her the way a man looks at a woman. After the wedding, when everyone else had gone home or gone to bed, they’d finished off a bottle of her father’s best whiskey and slow danced under the stars. Which was when he’d said the things about her dress and how she smelled, before kissing her and tumbling her into his bed.
And now she was here, in Tulsa, Oklahoma, to take the seed they’d planted that night and water it with her love and their friendship and turn it into the beautiful thing she knew it could be.
Fields were giving way to houses on the ground below, roads becoming more frequent. She watched, nose pressed to the glass, as Tulsa revealed itself to her. The blue snake of the Arkansas River, a huge swathe of green that must be some kind of park. The city center looked small by major city standards but plenty big enough for her. She spotted the long dark stretch of the runway in the distance and took another calming breath.
This was really happening. She was really here, minutes away from being with Troy again.
The captain landed the plane with a bone-jarring thud, then everyone was on their feet, dragging luggage out of the overhead storage bins. Evie collected her overnight bag and waited for her turn to file out. In the terminal, she collected her suitcase, then made her way to the washroom.
The mirror above the bank of sinks told her she had some serious work ahead of her before she could present herself to Troy. Her long blonde hair was tangled and flat on one side, her complexion was pale, her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
It’s okay, you’ve got this, she reassured herself. This was why people had invented makeup and hair-detangling spray and eye drops, all of which she’d had the foresight to pack in her overnight bag, along with a fresh change of clothes.
Twenty minutes later, she’d slipped into fresh underwear and a clean pair of slim-fitting black jeans, banging her elbow against the stall wall multiple times as she maneuvered in the tight space. Her sky-blue shirt picked up the color of her eyes, which she’d enhanced with mascara and a touch of eyeliner. She’d brushed out her hair, and it lay in a gleaming curtain over her shoulders, the platinum highlights she’d had put in last week picking up the overhead lights. She fiddled with her fringe a little, smoothing it into place with her fingers. Then she applied a coating of warm pink-brown lipstick and stood back to assess herself.
She’d pass. Not her best, but definitely not her worst, either. It would have been lovely to have a shower, but she could do that later, when they went back to Troy’s hotel room.
She pressed her palm against her too-busy heart, willing it to settle down, then spritzed her pulse points with perfume and went to find a cab. The American Extreme Oklahoma Invitational was being staged at the Bank of Oklahoma Center in the middle of town, and Evie watched the city go by outside her window as the driver wove his way through rush hour traffic. She checked her watch, silently urging the cab to move faster. It was nearly six, and the show started in an hour. She wanted to make sure she caught Troy well before he needed to gear up for the event.
Ten minutes later, they pulled up at the stadium. Crowds of people streamed past the cab before filing inside. Lots of cowboy hats and fringed vests and denim, families with children, large packs of young men. She drew a few stares as she made her way to one of the many entrances to the stadium, her luggage in tow. She waited in line behind a family of six, listening to them talk about the night ahead. When one of the kids mentioned Troy’s chances of winning, she felt a buzz of pride on his behalf.
He’d always wanted to make his mark in the world, to be someone, to prove himself. It looked as though he was well on the way if ten-year-olds in Tulsa could quote his ride stats and tour points by heart.
The family moved on and Evie smiled at the friendly-looking woman manning the turnstile.
“Hi. I’m wondering if you could tell me where the riders’ entrance is, please? I’ve just flown in from Australia and I’m supposed to be meeting my boyfriend, Troy Jensen, there.”
It was a white lie, but she justified it to herself because, technically, she would be meeting Troy. He just didn’t know it yet.
“Lucky you. The Wonder from Down Under is one nice-looking hunk of cowboy,” the woman said, using the nickname the media had given Troy.
“Hey, I saw him first,” Evie said, causing the woman to guffaw loudly.
“Just head around to the right, sweetheart. You’ll see the security checkpoint there. That’s probably where your man will be waiting. Enjoy!”
She gave Evie a wink before turning to the next group of customers, and Evie grabbed her luggage and started walking.
First hurdle overcome. Now she just had to convince the security guards to go find Troy for her, and then…
She shook her head. She wasn’t going to start thinking about what happened after she found Troy. Her heart was already beating double time, her hands were sweaty, even the creases of her elbows were damp, for Pete’s sake. She’d just take this one step at a time and trust in her memory of the night she’d spent in Troy’s arms.
The thought steadied her. She’d loved Troy since she was fourteen years old, and seeing him, being with him, was going to be amazing.
Bring it on.
*
Tanner Harding adjusted the cuffs on his starched black dress shirt as he exited the sports medicine room, leaving behind the smell of liniment and the sound of male laughter as his fellow riders were strapped and wrapped prior to their rides. His footsteps echoed off the concrete floor and cinderblock walls in the stadium corridor. They’d taped up his shoulder and wrist and he circled his shoulder experimentally, grunting his approval at the range of motion they’d left him with.
His shoulder had been reconstructed partway through last season but was holding up well so far. The wrist issue was an old one, the result of a fracture he’d sustained in his rookie year. Like the many other aches and pains in his thirty-one-year-old body, it would probably be with him till the day he died—the price every bull rider paid for daring to pit himself against 1,700 pounds of furious, bucking beast on a weekly basis.
He pulled out his phone to check the time as he turned into the change room where the riders were preparing for the event. He strode past the door to the washrooms and the sound of feminine laughter drew his gaze from his phone
.
A dark-haired cowboy had a well-endowed blonde pressed up against the wall in the washroom, both hands full of her denim-covered backside as he kissed her senseless. Tanner’s mouth kicked up at the corner as he shook his head at his friend’s shameless hound-doggery.
Of course it was Troy. The Australian rider had never been able to say no to a willing woman, and apparently he wasn’t about to start tonight.
“Get a room, Jensen,” he said.
The other man didn’t bother to look up, just presented Tanner with his middle finger.
A couple of the other guys glanced up as Tanner sank onto the bench in front of his gear bag.
“Don’t tell me—Troy’s got a buckle bunny in there, am I right?” asked Kane.
“What’s new?” Tanner said.
Plenty of the guys took advantage of the women who wanted to score a ride of their own when the tour came to town, but the thrill of having a different woman every week had worn off for Tanner a few years ago. Sure, the road could get lonely, but he’d learned that anonymous sex with a woman he was never going to see again didn’t change that. If anything, it made it worse. Women on the hunt for a bull rider scalp didn’t want him, they wanted the mythologized version of him, the guy who was splashed across the glossy program wearing fringed chaps and a shirt so starched it could abrade a man’s skin if he wasn’t careful.
These days, Tanner’s romantic life consisted of friendly relations with a divorcee back home in Current Creek, Colorado, and an on-again, off-again thing he’d had with one of the tour support staff. At the moment, it was off, since she’d found herself a boyfriend, but Tanner could deal with that. He wasn’t a kid anymore; he could handle a little delayed gratification.
His thoughts shifted to the night ahead. He’d drawn Bandito, which meant he was up for a wild ride and had a good chance of scoring well—if he could stick a qualifying ride. He’d had a couple of encounters with Bandito over the past couple of years. Round one, the massive Brahma-cross bull had thrown him in under three seconds and stomped on his thigh for good measure. Round two, Tanner had gone the distance but been left with a mild concussion when the bull threw him into the gate.
Tanner (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 1) Page 1
