Rodeo: A Bad Boy Romance (FMX Bros Book 2)

by Tess Oliver

  “Just drink it black,” Professor North said tersely. “You’ve had enough tequila for awhile.”

  I carried the filled plates in and laid them down on the table in front of Ethan and Professor North, and I tried, without success, to ignore the fact that Dalton’s gaze had not left me. It was rare for any guy to alter my composure. I blamed it on our two tumultuous first meetings.

  I sat down across from Professor North and then made the unwise decision to meet Dalton’s gaze directly. He didn’t flinch but I did. His eyes were an unearthly shade of green and his strong jaw twitched slightly beneath the black beard stubble.

  “So, Dalton,” Professor North broke the rope of tension that had formed between us, and I returned my attention back to my plate. “What did the doctor have to say?”

  “About what?”

  “About my tennis elbow, what do you think?”

  I kept my attention on my food, acutely aware that Dalton was still looking at me. Then a slice of Ethan’s toast arced through the air just missing his cup of coffee. “Stop staring at her, Ton. You’re going to scare her off.”

  “Well, have you seen Dr. Braxton recently or not?” Professor North asked.

  Dalton took a long, slow sip and then lowered his cup to the table. “Yep. Saw him last week.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He said, ‘hey North, you left so much of your leg on the battlefield, you’ll never be able to walk normally again.’” An awkward silence fell over the table, and I now regretted not going straight to the office to work. It seemed I’d sat myself down right in the middle of a personal family discussion.

  “What about physical therapy?” Professor North asked quietly.

  Dalton sighed and stared into his cup of coffee. “Tried it. Didn’t do much except make my leg hurt so badly I couldn’t sleep at night— even with tequila.”

  I swirled the eggs around my plate, but my appetite had disappeared. In my ridiculously privileged circle of friends, I’d never known a soldier, and the harsh reality of it felt like a rip in my silver spoon bubble.

  “How are Bryce’s parents doing?” I was sure I hadn’t imagined the waver in the professor’s voice.

  I stared down at my plate, but I could see Dalton’s tall, broad figure slump even more in the chair. Even slouched as he was, the impact of his presence at the table was enormous.

  “I went to see his parents but his mom broke down as soon as she saw me, so it was a short visit.” He took a drink from his cup. “Let’s change the subject. I already feel like shit this morning.”

  “How long are you staying?” Professor North asked in a way that sounded less than inviting.

  “Why? Do you want me to leave?”

  “Of course not, Dalton. Don’t always be so damn defensive. It’s a perfectly logical question considering that you rarely stay long.”

  Long, dark lashes shaded Dalton’s pale eyes and then he lifted his gaze to me again. A small glimmer in his eyes assured me that he knew his scrutiny unsettled me. “I might stick around for awhile. I don’t have a car and it’s not exactly easy getting around on two feet these days.”

  “What happened to your truck?” Ethan asked.

  Dalton dragged his gaze away from my face and glanced over at his brother. I discretely released the breath I’d been holding. “Sold it so I could eat.”

  “Damn it, Dalton,” Professor North said sharply, “I told you I could wire you money.” He shook his head. “I see you are still just as stubborn as ever.”

  “No, what you told me was that your salary had decreased because of budget cuts and that you were barely able to hold on to this house. I don’t want your money.”

  Professor North roughly buttered a piece of toast. “What are you going to do with yourself now that—”

  “Now that I’m broken?”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” The smooth-browed professor I knew so well had disappeared completely. “Never mind. I can see you’re just going to be contrary as usual.”

  “Yeah, let’s drop this subject too.” Dalton reached across and grabbed a piece of bacon from Ethan’s plate and returned his attention to me. “So, Auggie, you’re studying antiquities? Then you must either be a super nerd or a trust fund baby who is going to college just for the experience.”

  My face shot up. He grinned smugly as he took a bite of bacon.

  “Dalton—” Professor North said sharply.

  I straightened and met Dalton’s disconcerting gaze with confidence. “Actually, I’m both, so I guess you’ll need to add a third category to your extremely narrow view of antiquities undergrads.”

  “Auggie and I are working together cataloguing artifacts.” Ethan said.

  Dalton turned to him. “I’ll bet.”

  “It’s a long, boring task.” Ethan fluffed off the insinuating comment, but my jaw had clenched. “August was kind enough to volunteer to help out with it.”

  Dalton shook his head slightly at his brother. “Your luck just never runs out, does it?”

  Ethan shrugged. “I guess not.”

  “Super nerd that I am,” I said confidently, “I don’t find the task boring at all.” He returned his attention back to me, and I countered his arrogant bacon bite with one of my own.

  Professor North’s phone rang and he glanced at it. His expression flattened as it had the morning before when a call had interrupted breakfast. He hurried out of the room to answer it.

  Dalton glanced over at his brother. “What was that about? He looks stressed about something.”

  Ethan had taken a keen interest in his plate, and he avoided looking at Dalton. “How the heck should I know?”

  “With the way you are studying those scrambled eggs, I’d say you do know, but whatever.” Dalton’s chair scraped the floor as he pushed away from the table. Once again, he looked over at me, and I could feel the heat of his gaze across the table. “You two have fun with the cataloguing.” It seemed as if he held his breath to brace against the pain as he stood. He limped out of the room. I released the breath I’d been holding too.

  Ethan stood with his plate. “I guess we should head into the office.”

  I finally pulled my gaze from the empty corner that Dalton had just disappeared around. I peered up at Ethan North. He was incredibly perfect and the type of guy any girl could hand her heart over to, but the North who’d just left the room, weary and broken from war, was the North who could reach inside and take a girl’s heart hostage forever.

  Chapter 7

  Ethan had spent more time texting than filling in data charts and several hours into our work, I came to the conclusion that I’d gotten more done the day before without his assistance.

  He walked over to the window and peered out. “It’s a nice day.” He smiled back at me. “Except for the six feet of snow on the ground. But at least there is no cold mist hovering around to chill bones. Yesterday, visibility on the slopes sucked. Took a couple of good spills.” He reached down and slid the leg of his jeans up above his ankle. “It’s still swollen but it doesn’t hurt too much.” And then with what seemed like a look of embarrassment, he lowered the pants. “I sound like an idiot complaining about it when—” He glanced toward the hallway and then sat back down. “Dalton was always an awesome snowboarder.” The chair creaked as he leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. If I’d had any question about their brotherly relationship it had been answered by the profound look of sadness on Ethan’s face at that moment. It seemed he felt Dalton’s pain as if it was his own.

  “Bryce, the guy your dad mentioned, did he die?”

  Ethan stared down at his hands and nodded. “He was Dalton’s best friend. Growing up they were inseparable.” He laughed quietly. “Sometimes it seemed Dalton was closer to Bryce than
to me. I think he enlisted just to keep an eye on Bryce.” He fell silent for a minute and then leaned back. “They were on a routine supply transport mission. Bryce was in the front supply truck. It hit an IED and exploded. There was a series of explosions. Dalton yelled for everyone to take cover and then he jumped out of his humvee and ran to find Bryce. Dalton got hit carrying Bryce’s body to safety.” Ethan’s throat moved up and down with a hard swallow. “His friend never had a chance. Dalton might be back home, but he left so much of himself, physically and mentally, back in the desert, that he’s a completely different person.”

  “I’m sure it will just take time. He’s obviously gone through a lot.” I knew my answer was hollow, but I couldn’t find better words.

  The sound of a dragging foot followed by the resounding clunk of a wood stick hitting the floor pushed me back to the computer. I hadn’t turned to look at him, but I could feel him standing in the doorway, filling it with his broad shoulders and instantly heating the room with his presence.

  I entered and reentered the same data three times on the wrong line as I listened to him walk into the room and sit down on the window seat. His long legs stretched out over the floor, and he groaned as the foot of his bad leg relaxed. “I’m bored,” Dalton said. “You two should come out and play.”

  Ethan laughed as he walked over to the boxes. “You know, Auggie, Dalton’s right. Let’s take a break before we start in on this box of the Marl clay vessels.”

  “Great,” Dalton said. “Let’s fire up the snowmobiles for a race. Auggie can play cheerleader. You don’t happen to have one of those cute, little cheer uniforms handy, do you?”

  I turned around and looked at him, bracing for the impact of his gaze before my eyes met his. “You, Sir, are sexist.”

  He leaned back against the window. “Oh, come on, head cheerleader is written all over that perfect face of yours.”

  I was momentarily rendered tongue-tied by his unexpected compliment. “I— I wasn’t head cheerleader.”

  “But you were a cheerleader?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t happen to bring my cheer uniform with me on this trip.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Shit, Ton, still the same. And do you think you should be racing on the snowmobile?”

  Dalton stared up at him. “Why not? Are you afraid I’ll get hurt? Cause it’s a little late for that. Or maybe you’re just chicken because you know I’ll whip your sorry ass like I always do?”

  Ethan smiled. “Oh, it is so on now. I’ll go get my coat and gloves.”

  “Hold on,” I said. “What about me? Do you have a third snowmobile?”

  Both guys looked at me with wide eyes.

  “I hate being a spectator. I grew up with three older brothers, and I never sat on the sidelines. We used to have a cabin in Lake Tahoe and we had snowmobiles.”

  Ethan looked at Dalton. “She could use Dad’s.”

  Dalton shrugged. “If you’re sure, Sugarplum.”

  I stood. “I’m sure, and after I throw snow in both your faces,” I looked pointedly at Dalton, “I’ll be calling you Sugarplum.”

  Professor North popped his head into the office. “Ethan, I need to speak to you.” The man was completely different at home than at school. Everything about him was much more serious.

  Ethan followed his dad’s command and left the office. Dalton watched his brother leave, and the look on his face assured me that he had no idea why his brother had been summoned so tersely. He returned his attention back to me, and I grew acutely aware of the fact that we were completely alone.

  He paused and stared at me for a long moment before speaking. “So, what horrible family event did you escape in agreeing to come here and hide between boxes of old stuff?”

  “My parents decided to spend the holiday in the south of France, and I didn’t want to go.”

  He smiled. “Your parents must be monsters.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” I swallowed back the bitter disappointment that still crept up when I thought about it.

  “Try me.” He adjusted his long legs and his walking stick fell to the floor.

  I jumped up to retrieve it. I picked it up and his fingers intentionally wrapped around mine as I handed it back to him. Static charges raced up my arm as I released my grasp on the stick. He patted the window seat next to him.

  I sat down hesitantly. It was rare for me to be unsettled by any guy but this one could do it just by walking into the room. “I wanted to spend the holiday at home, with just my family.” Once I’d said it the rest of my plight just spilled out. “I wanted to bake with my mom. I can count the number of times we’ve baked cookies together on one finger and that was only because it was a project for her woman’s club. I wanted to cook Christmas dinner with her and hang out in the kitchen all day and set the table with everyday plates and paper napkins and enjoy the day like—” I stopped, not knowing how to finish without sounding like a snob.

  But it was too late. “Like us regular folk?”

  I shook my head. “Told you you wouldn’t understand.” I got up but he grabbed my wrist before I could walk away.

  “You’re right. I don’t understand Christmas in the south of France.” He looked up at me. I tried desperately to find a flaw in his face, something that I could find unappealing, but there was nothing. “But I do understand how cool it is to spend a day in the kitchen making a mess, burning food and tasting so much frosting you’re ready to puke your guts up by the time dinner comes.” He peered up at me and the mixture of physical and emotional pain that seemed to be a permanent part of his expression sharpened. “I’m sorry you didn’t get your Christmas wish.” He unwrapped his fingers from around my wrist.

  “I’m going to walk out now because just hearing my complaints out loud makes me wish I hadn’t said them. I’m sure as I leave the room, you’ll be thinking about what an annoying, spoiled rich girl I am.”

  He made a point of looking at me from head to toe and back again and then he rested his head back against the window pane and gazed from beneath long, black lashes. “I assure you, that’s the last thing I’ll be thinking about when I watch you walk out of this room.”

  Chapter 8

  I bundled from head to toe and pulled the hood of my parka up over my head. The sun was shining brightly, but the chill in the air felt like tiny blades hitting my cheeks as I followed Ethan out to the shed. Keeping my face down did little to soften the impact of the harsh temperatures. Ethan’s large feet left deep, defined impressions in the snow, and I stretched my legs to follow them. It was a survival tactic I’d developed after moving to a snowy climate and landing too often in deep holes of icy quicksand. As I kept my focus on Ethan’s footprints, I noticed a trail of odd footprints next to us, one clear print paralleled by a small trench and a deep hole. Dalton must have gone out ahead of us. I looked at Ethan’s strong, unhindered tracks and then stared at the uneven footprints and a sadness that was colder than the surrounding air sent a chill through me.

  “Is it my imagination or is it far more freezing up here than down on campus?”

  Ethan glanced back over his shoulder. “Not your imagination. We’re at a much higher elevation, and when the sky is clear up here, the wind can cut you like a sharp knife.” He looked back again. “You’ll warm up once we start riding.”

  The shed was only five hundred yards or so from the house, but the journey through the brisk air and deep snow seemed endless. The shed door was open and the pungent smell of gasoline struck us as we entered.

  Dalton was leaning over one of the snowmobiles with a gasoline can in his hand. He lowered the can and straightened at the sound of our footsteps. He was only wearing jeans, a thin olive colored military jacket over a black t-shirt and gloves, a style that suited him perfectly and only made him that much more appealing. The one conc
ession he’d made to admit that it was as cold as the Arctic outside was a black beanie on his head.

  He grinned at Ethan who was bundled nearly as much as me. “Have you got enough layers of fluff on, Buddy? I thought we were racing.”

  “I can race just fine in this snow gear and at least I’ll still have my ba—” Ethan stopped and looked over at me, “my toes after I’m done burying you with my snow wake.”

  I laughed. “A snow wake?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Thought it was clever.”

  A phone buzzed and Dalton fished it out of his pocket. He read the text. “Whooee,” he said with a deep chuckle and quickly texted back a message before returning the phone to his pocket.

  “So, I guess word is out and you’ve already got all the available girls in town sexting with you.” Ethan attempted to sound annoyed, but there was a hint of admiration in his tone.

  “Nah, not all of them. Just five or six. I don’t think word of my return has reached every corner of town yet.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “Then I stand corrected.”

  Dalton shifted his focus to me. “What about you, you sweet little ball of quilted down, are you sure you still want to race?”

  “I trudged all the way out here, didn’t I?” In the house I’d reminded myself not to get so discombobulated by his gaze but all mental sticky notes had come unstuck. I did manage a chin thrust though. “Let’s fire these machines up.” Even though I hadn’t been on a snowmobile in a few years, I was fairly confident about my riding skills. Of course I was also pretty sure that my brothers had always gone easy on me.

  Dingy, slightly scratched goggles did not dim the brilliance of the crystal white landscape, and once we’d reached the clearing where we could really open up, I laughed at the exhilaration of it all. Even though we’d all agreed not to get too crazy because the helmets had been packed away in the basement, Dalton and Ethan had shot ahead in true testosterone-driven, competitive male style, but I’d felt the need to get used to the machine beneath me.