Tanner (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 1)

by Sarah Mayberry

  “I don’t know. Part of me wants to just walk away, never speak to him again. But I know that won’t last, and he’s practically family, so…”

  “You never know, he might have something to say that’s worth hearing.”

  “He might. But he might also say things I don’t want to hear. This whole trip has been humiliating enough already. I don’t know if I’m up for more.”

  Her words got to him so much he tensed and started to sink. Pushing his feet to the floor, he stood.

  “There’s no call for you to feel humiliated. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Yeah, I did. I was gullible and naive, and I’m smarter than that.”

  “It’s not gullible to love someone,” he said gruffly.

  Jesus. Was he really having this conversation? Since when had he turned into Dr. Phil?

  “It’s gullible to ignore all the things you don’t want to see and concentrate on only the good things,” she said.

  “Sure you’re not confusing gullibility with stubbornness?”

  Her shocked laughter was so loud it echoed off the water. She flailed her arms, and her head sunk beneath the water before she stood, spluttering and blinking.

  “Give a girl some warning before you drop a truth-bomb, why don’t you?” she said.

  “You can handle it.” He swam toward the ladder. “I need to head across to the stadium. What do you want me to say if I run into Troy?”

  He pulled himself out of the pool and glanced back at her, waiting for her answer.

  She stared at the water for a beat. Then she shrugged and looked up at him.

  “Tell him I’m here. What the hell, might as well get it over with.”

  She looked about sixteen years old with her hair slicked back, not a smudge of makeup in sight.

  “He got your number?”

  “I’m sure it’s still in his little black book somewhere.”

  He grabbed his gear.

  “You’ll be hearing from him,” he promised.

  Chapter Five

  Evie waited until she heard the gate to the pool area close before letting out a heavy sigh. She’d been nice and relaxed after her swim, but now her heart was doing double time against her ribs at the prospect of talking to Troy.

  For a moment she was tempted to scramble out of the pool and chase after Tanner to tell him she’d changed her mind, but what she’d said was true—she might as well get it over with.

  She climbed out of the pool and spent twenty minutes practicing her diving before heading for the room, wanting to give Tanner plenty of time to get dressed.

  He was gone altogether when she arrived, and she took a leisurely shower before dressing again. She was contemplating the thankless task of blow-drying her hair when her phone chirped with an incoming text message.

  It was from an unknown number: Spoke to T. Heads up.

  She shook her head. Only Tanner could send such a succinct text. She saved his number into her contacts folder and was just hitting save when her phone started to ring, Troy’s handsome face filling the screen.

  She took a deep breath, setting a hand on her abdomen to steady herself. Then she pressed the button to accept the call.

  “Hi, Troy.”

  “Evie. We need to talk. Can I come see you?”

  He sounded tense, upset. Good.

  “I’m at the Hilton.”

  “I’ll be there in ten. What room are you in?”

  Evie frowned. How much had Tanner told him? That he’d rescued her last night? That she was sharing a room with him?

  “I’ll meet you in the bar.”

  “All right. Man, Evie… This is so messed up. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  There was genuine anguish in his voice and she closed her eyes.

  “It’s okay, Troy. I’ll see you in ten, all right?”

  She ended the call and went back to drying her hair. It was tempting to dive into her makeup bag and indulge in a little defensive war paint, but she resisted the urge. She’d probably only wind up with mascara tracks and panda eyes anyway.

  Her hair was still damp by the time she pocketed the key card and headed down to the bar. She wiped her sweaty hands on the sides of her jeans as she approached the entrance, but a quick scan of the space revealed she’d arrived before Troy.

  “Good,” she muttered to herself, sliding onto a barstool and lifting her hand to get the bartender’s attention.

  “What can I get for you, ma’am?” he asked.

  “A double vodka tonic,” she said. “No ice, please.”

  “Certainly, ma’am.”

  The moment he slid it in front of her she lifted it and gulped most of it in one burning swallow.

  “I’m going to need another one of those straight away,” she said.

  “Coming right up.”

  The bartender was placing a second glass in front of her when she saw Troy walk past the picture windows at the front of the bar. Her stomach dipped with nerves. She’d spent so many hours, so many years mooning over him. She’d invested so much in what had turned out to be a mere inconvenience to him.

  Please just let me get through this without crying.

  She didn’t feel like that was asking for too much or being too greedy. She just wanted to hang on to a few shreds of dignity.

  She swiveled on her stool, and sure enough, Troy was there, looking more uncomfortable and uneasy than she’d ever seen him.

  “Let’s grab that corner table,” she suggested, sliding off the stool and wrapping her clammy hand around her drink. They’d need privacy for this talk.

  The first vodka had already lit a pleasant fire in her belly, and she took a big mouthful of the second before settling into her seat.

  Troy sat opposite her, a frown etched deep between his eyebrows. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here, like a kid being forced to appear in the school principal’s office, and yet he was still one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. His green eyes with their thick dark lashes were still mesmerizing, his clean jaw and broad cheekbones just as appealing as they’d ever been.

  Yep, I bet there are buckle bunnies up and down the country who agree with you, too.

  The thought was like a bucket of cold water, stiffening her spine and clearing her mind.

  “I’m sorry, okay?” Troy said, fiddling with one of the drink coasters stacked in the center of the table. “I had no idea you were going to surprise me like that. There’s no way I’d ever want to hurt you, Evie.”

  “Maybe we should just lay our cards on the table. Like we probably should have back at Christmas,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “What happened the night of the wedding—that was a mistake for you, wasn’t it?” she asked.

  He blinked as though he was surprised she’d gone to the heart of things straight out of the gate.

  “I wouldn’t put it like that.”

  “Okay, let me put it another way, then—if it hadn’t been me, you would have just walked the next day and I would never have heard from you again. Right?”

  “Look, I had a great time that night—”

  “I’m not fishing for compliments, Troy. Just tell me the truth. I mean, don’t be an asshole about it, obviously, but don’t sugarcoat it, either.”

  He blew out a breath. “All right. I wasn’t looking to start anything up. Like you said, if it hadn’t been you, I probably would have just left it at one night. But it was you, and I knew you were more…into it. So I tried to make it work.”

  It was what she’d suspected, but it still stung. Who wanted to hear that the only reason they’d been in a long-distance relationship with a man was because he felt sorry for her?

  “I guess that clears things up, then,” she said. “Consider yourself officially off the hook.”

  “It’s not because of you, Evie. You’re great. You’re amazing—smart and gorgeous and sweet. I’m just not relationship material. Probably never will be.”

  She shoo
k her head. She didn’t believe that for a second. In fact, she’d never met a man who needed the love of a good woman more than Troy Jensen. He’d spent the first sixteen years of his life being alternately abused and neglected by the two people who were supposed to love and protect him above all others. When he’d first come to live at the cattle station, he’d been like an abused dog, wary and suspicious, but her family’s kindness had soon demolished most of his defenses. Most, but not all—he’d always held a little part of himself back, never fully allowed himself to relax into her family’s embrace, and he’d always thrown himself into things with a recklessness that sometimes scared her.

  She’d always hoped she’d be the one to break through to his well-protected heart, but as the last twenty-four hours had made abundantly clear, that was not going to happen. It would be up to some other woman to pierce the guards he’d built around himself now. Evie had taken her shot and been spectacularly rebuffed. It was time to move on.

  “You don’t need to explain anything,” she said. “I understand why things got out of hand. I wish you’d been honest with me from the start, but I understand.”

  He’d stopped spinning the coaster and was simply staring at it now, his shoulders tight and stiff.

  “If I could make things the way you want them to be, I’d do it,” he said quietly. “But I’m just not built that way.”

  Against all logic, she felt a surge of sympathy for him. Yes, she’d been humiliated yesterday, but Troy looked so unhappy and alone sitting there, she simply couldn’t stay angry with him. He couldn’t help the way he felt any more than she could control her own feelings.

  Reaching out, she laid her hand over his. “We’re okay. No hard feelings, I promise.”

  “You really mean that?” His green gaze was laser sharp as he searched her face.

  “What am I going to do? Hate you because you don’t love me? That’s dumb,” she said.

  “I do care for you, Evie,” he said. “Your family saved my ass, gave me a chance I never thought I’d have. I’ll never forget that.”

  She winced mentally. How had she ever fooled herself into thinking this man had romantic feelings for her? It seemed so obvious to her now that he had absolutely zero interest in her in that department. The way he looked at her, the way he held himself—it all screamed platonic with a capital P.

  “Why did you sleep with me in the first place?” she blurted.

  Troy froze for a second before shrugging, his gaze returning to the coaster he was now spinning between his hands.

  “It was a wedding. We were both drunk. It just happened,” he said.

  “So you only slept with me because you were drunk?” She didn’t know why she was pursuing this masochistic line of questioning, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  “No. It was a whole bunch of things. Normally, you’re like my sister. I don’t even think of you as a woman. You’re just…Evie. But that night your hair was different and that blue dress you were wearing… You didn’t look like you, you know?”

  Evie stared at him. “So, basically, you slept with me because you forgot it was me for an hour or two?”

  For Pete’s sake, why was she twisting the knife in her own chest like this?

  “No. Not exactly.”

  But she knew that was it, exactly. He’d been drunk, and she’d looked enough not like herself that he’d figured she was fair game.

  Well, she’d asked for the truth. She had no one but herself to blame for the tight knot of hurt that was now making her stomach ache.

  “I never wanted to hurt you,” Troy said. “You know that, right?”

  Because she was a sap, and because she understood she’d played a major role in her own disillusionment, Evie spent the next fifteen minutes talking with Troy to try to normalize things between them. She assured him she’d tell her father and brother she was the one who had ended things with him to take the heat off him.

  He objected at first, but she pointed out that, strictly speaking, it was true—she was totally kicking him to the curb. If anyone asked for reasons why, she would tell them it was simply too hard doing things long distance and they both wanted different things. Again, not a lie. No one needed to know about what had happened in that corridor at the stadium. That was private, between her and Troy.

  And Tanner, of course.

  When she figured she’d done enough to ensure their next meeting wouldn’t be a festival of awkwardness, Evie claimed she had an appointment for a massage—the first excuse that popped into her mind—and let Troy pay for her drinks. Together they walked into the hotel foyer.

  “If you want to see some of the town while you’re here, I’d be happy to show you around,” Troy offered.

  She wrinkled her nose to let him know what she thought of that idea.

  “You reckon it’d be too weird?” he asked, correctly interpreting her expression.

  “Just a little. You go do your thing at the stadium, and I’ll do my thing, and we can email in a couple of months’ time and touch base. How does that sound?”

  “Like more than I deserve,” he said gruffly, then he surprised her by stepping close and pulling her into a fierce hug.

  “You really are awesome, Evie. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

  She waited for the bittersweet pull of attraction to swamp her at his closeness, but her heartbeat remained resolutely steady.

  Nothing like shock therapy to kill a crush, apparently.

  “Good luck tonight,” she said.

  He gave her upper arm an affectionate, brotherly squeeze, then he headed for the door, one shoulder slightly higher than the other, same as always.

  Only when he was gone did she let her nothing-to-see-here mask drop. A part of her knew it was healthy they’d cleared the air, and that they now knew exactly where the other stood. Another part of her—mostly her ego, if she was being honest—was feeling more than a little battered and bruised. She’d never considered herself a particularly vain person, but she couldn’t get Troy’s casually dismissive words out of her head.

  You’re like my sister. I don’t even think of you as a woman.

  Evie had never been the kind of person who rated herself solely on her looks. She knew she was smart and kind, that she had a decent sense of humor and a healthy appreciation of the absurd. She didn’t mind rolling up her sleeves and having a go at almost anything. She liked children and old people, and when she met the man she was going to build a life with, she reckoned she was going to be a good partner to him.

  But that didn’t mean she was immune to all the signals the world threw a woman’s way about the way she was supposed to look and act and be. She didn’t need to be the most stunning thing on two legs, but she was human enough to want men to find her attractive. Sexy, even.

  She definitely didn’t want to be considered sexless, or to have to use props like a well-cut dress, a fancy up-do and a bottle of hard liquor to trick a man into bed.

  She brooded over Troy’s words all the way back to the hotel room. You asked him to be honest, the voice in the back of her head kept reminding her, but it didn’t make the truth any easier to bear. She’d been half-joking when she’d told Tanner she was worried about what she might hear when she talked to Troy. Turned out that instinct had been bang on the money.

  Once she was back in the room Evie didn’t have a clue where to put herself. She was hurt, offended, humiliated and demoralized, and all the people who would usually comfort her were thousands of miles away. Instead, she was stuck in Tulsa with no one but a bossy, sometimes-taciturn cowboy as her roomie, and even he wasn’t around for the evening.

  “This is so fucked up.”

  She dropped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. If she was back home, she’d call her friend Toni and they’d indulge in her favorite alcoholic ginger beer and a family-sized packet of Tim Tams, Australia’s greatest gift to the world (after Hugh Jackman). But she wasn’t. All she had was a minibar full of teeny-tiny bottles she
couldn’t afford and on-demand movies.

  Which was when she remembered the bottle of Bundaberg Rum wrapped in a sweatshirt in the bottom of her suitcase. She’d brought it all the way from Australia as a surprise for Troy because he’d complained about it not being available in the States. Well, guess who was going to have to go on missing his favorite rum?

  She had it unwrapped and in her hand in under a minute. The only glasses in the room were wineglasses, so she poured herself a generous drink, then flopped back onto her bed and reached for the remote control to flick the TV on.

  Alcohol and distraction—modern balms for the soul. And her soul needed a lot of balming tonight.

  Chapter Six

  Tanner spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing footage of Carnage. The animal had all but perfected a midair torso twist that almost never failed to unseat his rider. Watching rider after rider bite the dirt after facing off with the big black bull was definitely a sobering experience.

  But every bull rider was a chancer at heart. A man would never settle himself on the back of that much ornery power and muscle without having a daredevil streak a mile wide, and Tanner was willing to admit his was wider than most. He’d happily take his shot at Carnage, knowing there was a high chance he wouldn’t make the eight-second ride necessary to ensure his performance counted, because if he did stick the ride, he was going to score big time. There was no way he wouldn’t be rewarded for conquering one of the tour’s most aggressive, rank bulls, and a high score would kick him ever closer toward that million-dollar prize at the end of the tour.

  Once he was done with the footage, he prepared his bull rope, tying it to the rail set up in the change rooms and brushing out last night’s rosin, working his way up and down the tail and giving special attention to the handle. Once he was confident the rope was clean, he rubbed saddle soap into it to keep it conditioned. Then he applied fresh rosin, the stringent, resinous pine smell deeply familiar after nine years of pro riding.

  Once he was satisfied his gear was prepped, he spent some time with one of the trainers stretching and strapping his shoulder and wrist, before having a light dinner at the stadium, chowing down with Kane Wilder and T.J. Casey, both long-time tour veterans. They talked about this year’s rookies, and discussed the likely contenders for the finals.