by Cat Johnson
“I know. But you shouldn’t have to manage on your own.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m working on that.”
“What?” He nearly choked. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with. Are you hungry? Should I make something for when you get here?”
After his mother’s cryptic hinting that something was going on in her personal life, food was the last thing on Skeeter’s mind. What the hell?
How could he think about food now? “Um, I don’t know. I had a little something at her place.”
When it rained, it poured. And it seemed Skeeter was in the midst of a deluge at the moment. Was there anything else the good Lord could throw at him right now? Skeeter hoped not. He wasn’t sure he was up to the challenge.
“You can decide when you get here.”
“Okay. Should be in about twenty minutes, I guess.”
“All right. See you soon. Love ya.”
“Love ya too.”
She disconnected and it took Skeeter a second to realize he was still holding the phone in his hand. He tossed it into the console as his brain reeled. His mom had sounded a little too chipper considering he’d just told her he’d be leaving again in the morning. That seemed more than strange. He knew she could handle things on her own, but she shouldn’t enjoy it so much. She’d always been sad when he’d left before.
Something was definitely up. But for now, he needed to text Riley as soon as he got home and tell her when they’d be there tomorrow. Pack a bag, kiss his mom…and not think about what she was up to that she was so happy to have him gone.
Riley felt a bead of sweat roll down her chest and between her boobs as she wrestled with the very big and much too old air conditioner.
It still worked all right, but it was way too big for one person to handle alone. They probably should have thrown it out years ago instead of stashing it away in the attic since the new window units they had downstairs in the bedrooms were half this size and worked twice as well. As it turned out, it was good they hadn’t gotten rid of it because it was going to be put to good use now. But she sure needed more strength, or at least another few inches of length in her arms to hoist it from the floor and into the open window.
She managed to lift it, but holding it up and maneuvering it into position was proving a challenge, if not impossible. It slipped from her sweaty grasp and she had to scramble to catch it between her thigh and the windowsill. “Crap.”
“Riley? What are you doing?” Skeeter’s voice startled her into a jump. The A/C slipped farther down the wall as she held on with just her fingertips and one leg, which was likely going to be bruised by tomorrow.
“Putting…this in.” She struggled to talk and keep the unit from falling at the same time. He was beside her in seconds, taking the weight from her hands. Once she was relieved of her burden, she asked, “When did you get here? I didn’t hear you come in.”
Skeeter set the unit in the open window and she jumped to slide the sash down to hold the heavy machine in place. He gave the window another push down after she did and when he seemed satisfied it would hold the monster machine and keep it from falling out, he turned to her.
He looked a bit guilty as he cringed. “Yeah, I’m sorry I snuck up on you like that and scared you. I knocked for like five minutes, but when you didn’t answer I got worried. The door was unlocked so I came in. I heard all this noise upstairs so I ran right up. What the heck are you doing up here?”
“When you texted last night that you’d be here with the guys today, I wanted to clean up so you could sleep up here tonight. But it got so hot, I decided to put the air conditioner in to cool the room off while I worked.”
“You should have waited for one of us to get here. And you shouldn’t have to clean for us. We could have done it.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t mind. It helps to keep busy.”
Being occupied in the long-neglected attic was far preferable to the other chore she couldn’t face but knew she’d have to one day—cleaning out her father’s room. She couldn’t bring herself to paw through his stuff. Not yet anyway. Making the decisions of what to keep, what to toss and what to donate seemed beyond her at the moment. When choosing between the two tasks, the sweltering and dirty work in the attic had won, hands down.
Skeeter’s gaze met and held hers. “All right. Well, I’m here now.”
She was lost in his eyes, torn between being embarrassed at the closeness and wanting to step even closer as he reached out and swiped a thumb across her cheek. It wasn’t until then—when he wiped the dirt from her face and then rubbed his two fingers together, smiling—that she realized how close they were standing and what a horrible sight she must be.
Her heart raced at his touch. As hot and sweaty and dirty as she was, the one thing she really wanted to do was reach up and press her lips to his. Have him wrap his arms around her until all the pain and fear went away. Do things with him she’d never done or wanted to do with any other guy.
The moment seemed to stretch on until he broke eye contact to glance around them. “So what can I do to help?”
Besides hold her and make the world go away?
“Plug that thing in for starters.” She tipped her head toward the air conditioner and tried not to sound breathless.
“Sure thing.” He bent to grab the cord dangling down the wall. He shoved the plug into the outlet below the window, straightened and punched the ON button.
The unit sprung to life with a loud rumble before it settled into a slow, steady chug as a burst of cool air came toward them. “Glad it still works.”
He let out a laugh. “No kidding. Me too. It’s a hot one out there today.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” It seemed ridiculous, but meaningless small talk was all she could come up with.
She pulled at the shirt that was starting to adhere to the skin of her chest. So much for looking pretty in front of him. That was out of the question today when even the weight of her braid resting on her back seemed to make her hotter. She glanced up to find him watching her, probably waiting for her to direct him what to do next. She wasn’t used to giving orders. But now that she was the owner of the ranch and a half a dozen men were coming to help her work, she’d better get used to it.
The work could wait five minutes while they cooled off and she got her heart under control. “You want some sweet tea or lemonade before we get started? Or cake? I seem to have lots of that left over.”
“That’s not a surprise.” He reached out and wrapped one hand around her arm. “Hey, you doing okay?”
The sting of tears pricked behind her eyes. Riley yanked her gaze up and stared at the ceiling, trying to blink the moisture away before she looked back to him. “Skeeter Anderson, you have to stop being so nice to me.”
He frowned. “Why?”
Honesty seemed the only path here after her crazy outburst of a request. “Because it makes me cry.”
“Oh.” He dropped his hand from her arm. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“Don’t be sorry.” She let out a short laugh. “I know you can’t help it. I’m afraid I’ll just have to get used to crying because I don’t think you have it in you to be anything but nice.”
He wobbled his head to one side and back. “Yeah, well, you might be surprised.”
God, how she’d love for him to be not nice with her. To be downright naughty, in fact. That thought had her both excited and shocked at herself. Her father had just been buried yesterday and here she was imagining the bad things she’d like to do with Skeeter. Things her father would never ever have allowed or approved of if he’d still been around. The very things Pastor Porter was worried about her doing.
She swallowed hard and wrestled her thoughts back to the reality of the present. “So, tea or lemonade? I’ve got both.”
“Whichever is fine. While you go get it, I’ll start moving those boxes.”
“Okay.” Riley nodded and turned
to leave.
“Riley?”
She turned back when Skeeter said her name. “Yeah?”
“Don’t carry anything back up those stairs heavier than two glasses without calling me, okay?” His brows rose and his tone was heavy with equal doses of humor and no-nonsense warning.
Her cheeks heated. How could he be so sweet and so damn hot at the same time? It was a tantalizing combination that had her heart thundering as she said, “Okay. Promise.”
As she trotted down the stairs, she had to wonder when Mustang and Slade and their girls would arrive, because being alone with Skeeter was as tempting as it was disconcerting.
Chapter Ten
“Mustang, seriously? The barrel?” Skeeter’s gaze shot to the house to make sure Riley wasn’t coming outside to hear this embarrassing conversation. Thankfully, she was still inside with Jenna and Sage fixing supper.
“Yeah, the barrel. What? You too damn good for the barrel? You don’t need to work on your spurring? I got video of your last nine buck offs on the circuit to prove otherwise. Need me to pull it up on YouTube for ya?”
The fact was, since his last nine buck offs had been televised, the whole damn world had seen his defeat in living color. That those moments would live forever on YouTube was just an unlucky bonus. “No. You don’t have to pull it up.”
“Actually—” Slade stepped forward, “—I think we should. Maybe watching those rides will help us figure out what’s wrong with you. Then we can work on correcting it.”
Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with him. Maybe it was just bad luck. Luck of the draw, as the old saying goes. He’d drawn rank bulls for those events. Bulls that were impossible to ride for anyone. He could still hang on for eight. Hadn’t he just proven that when he took first place in Tupelo?
Deep down, Skeeter knew Slade and Mustang were right. Those bulls in Tupelo hadn’t been anything near the bulls in the series he used to ride for and he did need to work on his skills. It still didn’t make it any easier to swallow. “Fine. Whatever. Want me to ride the barrel first? Or watch the damn videos first?”
Mustang grinned. “You got the choir boy here to cuss, Slade. That’s quite an accomplishment.”
“You ain’t hardly kidding. I didn’t think squeaky clean here had even a damn in him.” Slade tipped his head in Skeeter’s direction. “Guess I was wrong.”
“Hey, I cuss…just not in front of ladies. Or, you know, older folks.” Skeeter scowled.
Maybe inviting Slade and Mustang hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
But like it or not, he needed their help, both with his riding and with Riley’s bulls. Mustang had worked on a bull ranch back in the day. It was where he’d learned to ride. He’d be a big help with the animals. And though Slade wasn’t as experienced in the care of bulls, another strong pair of hands was always welcome, even if it just was to scrub and refill the water tanks.
Riley needed the help and in exchange, Skeeter would just have to deal with the guys razzing him. About his riding. About his cussing. Whatever. He’d deal with it.
“I say we work on your spurring on the barrel first. Videos we can watch later after it’s too dark to work outside.”
That idea, Skeeter couldn’t get onboard with. “You wanna watch the videos inside? With everybody sitting around with us?”
Slade wore a smug smirk. “Riley already saw you hit the dirt, Skeets. Live and in person. It’s not gonna be a surprise to her.”
“What? No, I don’t care. It’s not because of Riley, I just thought—” Crap. The more Skeeter protested, the more it sounded like what Slade had accused him of, not wanting to look like an idiot watching himself buck off over and over again in front of the girl he liked.
“Leave him alone, Slade. Before his head explodes.” Mustang wrapped an arm around Skeeter’s shoulders. “Come on, kid. Let’s get to work.”
They walked up to the dreaded barrel Slade had strung between four posts while Skeeter and Mustang had finished up with the stock this afternoon.
“All right, Skeets. Spurring drill. Why do we do this drill?”
Skeeter rolled his eyes. Apparently Mustang was taking his role as instructor very seriously. “So we can spur better.”
Mustang nodded. “Yes, you’ll spur better because this is going to build your muscles and help your coordination.”
“And repetition will imprint it into your muscle memory,” Slade added. “You need these motions to become second nature. When that bull moves, you need to react without having to think about it.”
“Right.” Mustang grabbed two of the ropes supporting the barrel and waited while Slade grabbed the other two. “Okay, kid. Hop up. You’re gonna do two sets of twenty-five to start.”
Hating this with everything in him, Skeeter hoisted himself onto his belly across the barrel and then swung one leg over.
“You really should be wearing a helmet for this.”
Skeeter let out a sound of disgust at Slade’s suggestion. “It’s a barrel.”
“Your head harder than steel?” Slade cocked a brow.
“Just pull the damn rope.” Skeeter had been trampled by a one-ton animal until he’d had a lacerated liver, fractured ribs and contusions to both lungs, and they were worried about him getting hurt on a freaking practice barrel?
“Another damn.” Mustang bobbed his head and grinned. “I’m impressed, Slade.”
Slade nodded with a smile. “Thank you. I try.”
“All right. Get ready. Here we go.” Mustang yanked the ropes down, sending the barrel into motion.
On the other side, Slade coordinated his movements to work opposite Mustang’s. It made the barrel rock and imitate the up-and-down motion of a bull bucking. It was nothing like riding a real bull determined to buck off the rider. Bulls didn’t just move up and down. They spun and twisted and dropped, but Skeeter had to admit it was a workout. By the time they’d counted out twenty-five repetitions of him bending and unbending his knees to lift his feet high and let them drop low, he was starting to feel the fatigue in his leg and stomach muscles.
He was breathing pretty hard when they finally stilled the ropes and the barrel stopped moving so he could rest between sets.
“Not as easy as you thought, is it?” True or not, Mustang’s cocky observation did nothing to help improve Skeeter’s attitude about riding this damn barrel.
“Then maybe you two need to get on up here. I thought we were all working on our skills here?”
“Oh, we will. When Chase gets his ass here after he’s done visiting his girl in California, he’s going to kick our butts. He’s got a full schedule planned. Running, stretching, calisthenics.”
“Yoga,” Slade added with a grin.
“But in the meantime, you finish your second set here,” Mustang continued. “Then us veterans will get on and show you what it’s supposed to look like.”
Skeeter scowled. His form was perfect. Cooper had always said it was. Said he was a textbook rider. Then again, he obviously hadn’t ridden perfectly in those last nine rides he’d bucked off.
Cooper’s voice echoed in his head from all those many years ago. First we do some work on the barrel. Then we get on a bull.
“All right.” Skeeter nodded. “I’m ready. Let’s get this done.”
They took turns doing different exercises for about three quarters of an hour until Skeeter’s muscles started to feel a little more wobbly each time he threw his leg over the barrel and hopped to the ground.
Skeeter had just completed another set of the spurring exercise, which was apparently Mustang’s favorite torture for him, when the sound of a screen door slamming caught Skeeter’s attention. He glanced at the house.
“Hey, guys. Supper’ll be on the table in ten minutes if you want to wash up first.” Riley stood at the back door shading her eyes with her hand against the glare of the sun low on the horizon. That was a sight he didn’t mind seeing at the end of a hard day.
“Okay. Thanks, Rile
y.” Mustang turned back to Skeeter. “You get a reprieve for the rest of the day, kid. Let’s wash up and then we’ll look over those videos during supper.”
A reprieve. Yeah, right. So far today Skeeter had driven from Arkansas to Mississippi, helped Riley clean the attic, tended to the bulls and worked on the barrel. It sounded like a full day to him, though he had a feeling when all the rest of the guys arrived and they all started to train seriously, things would get even harder.
Chapter Eleven
“The four of you are really going to sleep in Mustang’s trailer? Isn’t it kind of cramped in there?” Riley asked.
“Eh, it’s fine. We’ve done it before.” Mustang waved off her concern. “There are enough beds.”
“It’s pretty roomy inside.” Skeeter had checked it out after Mustang had arrived.
“It is.” Slade nodded. “And we have a pact that all we do when we’re in there together is sleep. If anyone wants any private time, they have to go elsewhere or wait for the other couple to be out.”
“Oh. All right.” Riley’s cheeks pinked. Skeeter smiled at how cute she looked when she blushed.
“We wouldn’t mind the occasional use of your shower though. The girls complain there’s not enough water pressure in ours to rinse their hair properly.” Slade rolled his eyes. “I never had that problem myself but…”
Jenna backhanded Slade where he sat next to her on the porch swing. “Don’t make it sound like I’m high maintenance. You don’t have any hair compared to me and it’s always under a hat so what do you care what it looks like?”
Sage nodded her head. “And besides the hair, it is pretty near impossible to shave your legs in that tiny stall.”
“Well, that’s reason enough for me right there.” Mustang turned from his girlfriend to where Riley sat. “Miss Riley, can our ladies please use your shower so Sage’s leg stubble doesn’t make me bleed in bed at night?”
That earned Mustang a slap from his girl as well, but all he did was grin. “Only teasing. I love getting you riled up, Little Bit. You know that.”
