by Jeannie Watt
“Your sister won’t pick you up?”
“I’m, uh, kind of afraid to ask.”
“And there’s no other way?”
There was probably a way. There was always a way, if one looked hard enough. Someone who could help without being put out.
Someone who could help.
Austin.
Bad idea. Very bad idea.
He’d offered to help… Had he meant it?
Even if he had, she’d tossed his offer right back at him. Would he want to help now?
Would it hurt to ask?
According to the American Extreme Bull Riders schedule, he was going to Salt Lake City for his next tour stop. Maybe…
Kristen pulled out her phone and pulled up a search engine. There was a small touring bus line that ran a route from SLC to Livingston, passing through Marietta on its way. It was called Montana…something.
Montana Vista Tour Line.
And the ticket was a quarter of the cost of the other ticket. Almost affordable.
“Do you have an idea?” Lynn asked.
Kristen looked up from her phone. “I might.” What in the world did she have to lose by asking Austin for a lift to Salt Lake? Her pride? She’d dropped that along the wayside when she’d climbed into that saloon girl outfit and pasted a fake smile on her face for money.
And maybe she owed Austin some penance, too.
He probably thought so.
“I ran into a hometown acquaintance at the casino yesterday. He’s going to Salt Lake City soon. He might be able to help me out.”
“Ask him,” Lynn said with an encouraging smile. “What would it hurt?”
“Right. I’ll ask him,” Kristen said. Why not? All it would take was exactly what her sister had suggested—a huge portion of humble pie.
*
Austin smiled at his last signee, a kid in his early teens, dressed in beat-up cowboy boots and jeans and a brand new American Extreme Bull Riders ball cap. It’d been a busy signing day for his sponsor—a couple of hours at the local Boot Barn that afternoon, and then an hour on the concourse before the big event. Now it was get-into-his-head time.
“Austin.”
His back stiffened at the sound of the familiar voice. Son of a bitch. Really?
He turned to find Kristen Alexander walking toward him across the concourse, wearing worn jeans and an oversized Nevada Wolf Pack sweatshirt. She slowed as she approached, looking both determined and nervous.
“You want an autograph?” he asked as she came to a stop a few feet away from him.
“I have nothing to sign.” She pushed her long reddish-brown hair over her shoulder, looking patently self-conscious. Had she come to apologize? To ask him once again to keep his mouth shut?
“That doesn’t slow a lot of women down.” He’d been asked to sign some interesting things…and places.
She caught his meaning, tipped up her chin. “Thank you. I don’t need an autograph.”
He shifted his weight onto his good hip, folded his arms over his chest. Basically took on his in-your-face bull rider stance. “What do you need?”
“I need a ride to Salt Lake City.”
Not anything close to what he’d been expecting. “Why?”
“I got fired. Again.” The words barely made it out of her mouth before she pressed it tightly shut again and swallowed. She was going to cry. If it had been anyone else, he would have been more affected. She blinked a few times and managed to regain her composure. “I need to go home.”
“You’re asking me for a ride?” She had to be borderline desperate.
“To Salt Lake City.”
“Then what? Hitchhike?”
“I have enough money to take the Montana Vista Tour bus from Salt Lake to Marietta.”
Enough money for a bus? “Fuck, Kristen. Are things that bad?”
“They aren’t good.” She closed her mouth as a couple of security guards walked by.
He took her by the arm and led her behind a wide concrete column. “Maybe you can give me a little more information.”
Kristen glanced down at the floor for a brief moment, then met his gaze dead on. “I lost my job over two months ago. I didn’t tell the family because I thought I’d get another fast. I told Whitney this morning. Now I need to tell my mom. I want to do it face to face.”
“You weren’t moonlighting as a cocktail waitress.”
“No.” She held his gaze, her expression bordering on defiant as she said, “That was my job—the only one I could get that paid enough to allow me to live and not default on loans. I sold my car, but it was old and I barely got anything for it. Enough for a month’s rent and some groceries.”
It took him a moment to process all that she’d just confessed.
“I’m asking you for help.” Which he’d offered her in a moment of weakness. “And I understand if you don’t want to give it.”
He leaned his shoulder against the concrete pillar. In a few hours, his name would be called and he’d walk through smoke and fire to his appointed spot and the crowd would cheer, because he did something that most people couldn’t do. He faced a ton of raging bovine week after week and came out alive. Surely he could get through this.
“Yeah. I’ll take you to Salt Lake. But it won’t be a direct trip.”
“Meaning?”
“I have a stop along the way.” He glanced past her to the center arena where the crews were setting up. “I have to get taped up. We can discuss details later. Are you staying for the performance?”
“I can’t afford it. I had to sidestep security to get in to talk to you.”
“You…” Sidestepped security? “Never mind.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out one of the two passes he had for special guests. “Meet me at the north exit door after the event is over.”
She gave a short nod. “I will.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you. And…I want to apologize for the things I said to you…that day…in high school.”
“Did you mean them?”
She pressed her lips together briefly. “I was…wrong.”
“Well, I guess life has a way of sorting out the real winners and losers.”
He smiled a not very friendly smile, then turned and headed down the concrete steps to the change room.
Chapter Four
Almost two hours after Austin had handed her the pass to the bull-riding event, Kristen was still chewing on his remark about life separating the winners and losers. She’d failed, yes. But failing wasn’t the same as being a loser.
You accused Austin of being a loser.
It was clear now that he wasn’t—he’d simply had a different vision of success. One that differed radically from her own. But…was bull riding a real job? He had money, yes. But did he have stability?
Do you have either of those things?
Kristen was getting tired of being heckled by her own inner voice, so when the house lights dimmed she sat up in her seat and focused on the dark arena. She’d been to a lot of rodeos as a kid and not one of them had started in darkness.
The music began—a deep thrumming that made the floor vibrate beneath her feet—and spotlights swirled over the crowd as the announcer welcomed fans to Reno, Nevada! Flames ignited on either side of the arena, traveling in long straight lines until they branched out and then the letters AEBR burst into flames.
Kristen’s mouth dropped open. The Copper Mountain Rodeo in Marietta needed to think about doing this. Very impressive. And even more impressive were the bull riders now striding through the manmade smoke and fire to take their places along the flaming lines. There was something primal about the smoke, the fire, the men about to risk their lives in an attempt to stay on a bull’s back for eight long seconds, and, as the music reached a crescendo and the fans cheered, Kristen understood why Austin did this. The feeling of power and anticipation was overwhelming. And the bull riders themselves…these were guys who’d fight wolves and then catch you something to eat for dinner. Alpha
guys.
The kind of guys she avoided like the plague because they intimidated her.
But watching them stride out of the arena, walking shoulder to broad shoulder, the long fringe on their chaps flapping with each step…maybe she was succumbing to alpha fever. Temporarily.
As soon as the lights came up, a crew gathered around the far chute. Moments later the gate swung open and a bull exploded out, spinning violently to first the right and then the left as the crowd cheered. The rider released his grip at the horn, did half a flip and landed in a heap in the dirt. A split second later he was on his feet, racing for the rails as two bull fighters distracted the black and white bull.
“T.J. Casey setting the bar on Ignitor, ladies and gentleman. Eighty-nine points!”
Eighty-nine was a decent score. Austin had his work cut out for him.
Kristen sat back in her seat, only to come forward again for the next ride. And the next. The pace and the energy were crazy. A rider named Cody was up and Austin was announced on deck. Kristen realized that her hands were clenched into tight fists and she made an effort to relax.
He was her ride to Salt Lake City, not her husband or boyfriend. But regardless of who he was, she wanted him safe. Wanted all of the guys to be safe. No one had made eight seconds since T.J. Casey had ridden the first bull out and Kristen wondered if any of them would.
The gate opened and the crew fell back as a giant midnight black bull reared out of the chute, throwing his head back and just missing Cody’s face. Less than a second later the animal hit the ground with all four feet and then launched himself into an epic series of spins.
The whistle blew and the rider released, kicking a leg over the bull’s massive head and landing on both feet. The crowd erupted and Kristen was right there on her feet with them.
Oh yeah, she was definitely coming down with alpha fever.
And hopefully she’d be fully recovered by the time she met Austin at the north door of the venue following the event.
*
Life has a way of separating the winners and losers.
True enough, and Austin hoped karma wasn’t going to bite him in the ass for pointing that out to Kristen. Hard Landing, his draw for the evening, rolled his eye and flicked an ear as Austin eased into place just in front of the flank strap. He handed the tail of his rope to Gage to hold tight as he worked the rosin in.
“You’ve got this,” Gage muttered.
Austin nodded. He did have it. Once the rosin was warm, he slid his hand into place, finished his wraps and gave his glove a couple pounds. Gage pulled the rope tight and then stepped back as Austin slid forward, almost on top of his hand. The sharp scent of bovine sweat stung his nostrils as he took a deep breath, then nodded. He loved this moment. Lived for this moment, when anything and everything was possible.
The gate opened. Hard Landing reared and then launched into an explosive twisting buck, bringing his ass up over his ears. Austin pushed deep into his feet, held his center as the bull slammed back to earth, then reared again, twisting his body sideways, rolling Austin away from his hand. He corrected before the bull started a series of body-jarring spins. Gritting his teeth, Austin fought gravity and managed to keep from being sucked down into the well before the bull flipped his center of gravity and spun the opposite direction, jerking Austin hard on each jolting landing.
Hard Landing’s hooves slammed into the ground, tossing up dirt as he whirled. The horn sounded and Austin released, allowing the bull’s momentum to toss him free. He landed, then automatically rolled into a ball as Hard Landing took a pass at him with his blunt-ended horn before the bull fighter intervened.
Having made his point, Hard Landing flicked his tail and trotted to the gate as Austin got to his feet.
“Ninety-four points!”
If he’d had a hat, he would have thrown it in the air. Instead he raised a hand, acknowledged the crowd, then crossed the arena to sit out the next six rides.
No one came close to his score.
Finally. The big win. And it didn’t hurt one bit that Kristen Alexander was in the audience when it happened. Vindication was sweet.
After changing, he headed down the long hallway leading to the rear of the facility. Kristen was waiting by the door as planned, staring off in the opposite direction as he approached. When she heard his footsteps, she turned, her face taking on an expression of cool politeness. Emphasis on cool. Hello, Kristen from high school.
“You’re here,” he said, for lack of anything better to say.
“Yes.” She pushed her hands deep into her jacket pockets, tilted the corners of her mouth up into a semi-smile, as if everything was normal between them. Maybe after an eight-hour road trip they would be more normal.
And pigs would fly.
“Congratulations.” She sounded like she meant it, so he nodded in acknowledgment before pushing the door open and following her out into the crisp night air.
“Where’s your car?”
She pointed to the far end of the lot.
“Let’s talk in my truck and then I’ll take you to your car.”
Under normal circumstances, he might have suggested that she come with him to eat, but these were not normal circumstances. He led the way to his road machine and opened the door for her. Kristen started to get in, but her foot slipped on the running board and he automatically reached out to grab her by the waist before she took a facer.
“I’m okay.” She stepped away as if he’d burned her with his touch, then brushed her hands down her sides, wiping away all traces of contact.
Austin frowned at her. Fine. She didn’t like to be touched, but it wasn’t like he’d grabbed her for any reason other than to save her some bruising. “If you say so.”
Halfway pissed, he stalked around the truck, leaving Kristen to climb into the passenger seat on her own. This time she made it in.
“Nice truck,” she said as he got into the driver’s seat without wincing, even though his hip felt like it was on fire. He was moving stiffly, but he was moving, and that was a plus.
“Yeah. Fruits of my labor.” He fiddled with the keys he’d yet to slide into the ignition, before meeting her gaze. Her cheeks were still flushed and that mouth… He wasn’t going to think about her mouth. “I thought we’d better go over my plans for the next few days. If they don’t mesh with yours, then you’ll need to work out something else.”
“What are your plans?” she asked politely.
Cody Galen popped his hand on the hood as he and Gus and Josh ambled by, making Kristen jump. Austin nodded at his teammates, who didn’t seem to recognize Kristen as the waitress from the casino, then turned back to Kris. “I’m making a side trip to a friend’s ranch. Spring branding. I go every year. They kind of work their schedule around me.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “How long is the side trip?”
“A couple days. They brand tomorrow.”
“The tour bus to Marietta only runs on Monday, Thursday and Saturday during the off-season.”
He shook his head. Not his problem. “So you go home on Thursday.”
“I guess so.”
He let out a breath after several seconds of silence, balling his fist up on his sore thigh. “If that’s not agreeable, then you’re going to have to come up with something that doesn’t involve me.” There was only one option if she was traveling with him, because he wasn’t about to change plans.
“It’s agreeable.” She spoke civilly, but her demeanor was growing more distant by the moment, as if he was somehow in the wrong.
“Why don’t you ask Whitney to drive down to pick you up?”
“Long story.”
“I have time.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “That isn’t part of the deal.”
There was something in her rapidly cooling attitude that jabbed at him. He wrapped his fingers around the keys, then released his grip so that he was holding them loosely in his palm. “I’ll tell you what is part of the deal—you do
n’t treat me like dirt and I let you ride in my truck.”
Her cheeks went red. “I—” He raised an eyebrow. Waited. Her gaze faltered briefly, then she drew in a breath. “I’m not trying to treat you like dirt.”
The words rang true, although the cynical part of him wondered if it was because she really needed the ride. “Then what the hell, Kristen? Why do you do that…cold thing?”
“I’m nervous.”
His jaw dropped a little. “What?”
She scowled at him as she met his gaze dead on. “Nervous, Austin. Scared. Not everyone feels comfortable in social situations.”
“Get out.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I’m not kidding.”
No. She wasn’t. “This isn’t a social situation. This is you and me.”
She gave him a fierce frown. “I get self-conscious in certain situations, okay? And when I do, I clam up and go all cold and then people think I’m stuck up.”
“Wait,” he said as the pieces fell into place. “You’re saying you’re shy?”
“Overachievers can be shy, too. And it’s really more a case of social anxiety.”
Austin narrowed his eyes as he studied her. Shy? She’d always looked like she had everything figured out.
“This is why you spent most of your time in freeze mode?” The question slipped out without a lot of forethought, but he stood behind it. He honestly wanted to know.
She gave him a sarcastic look. “Kind of fitting for an ice princess, don’t you think?”
Nailed. Shit.
“Heard about that, huh?”
She gave a small sniff. “Marietta High School was not a place to keep secrets. Of course, I knew about it. And the bets.”
He’d had nothing to do with the bets, but he could see how that would be disturbing. “Before or after you took me down?”
“Before.”
“You never said anything…you know…when you yelled at me.”
She let out a huff of breath. “You mean like ‘How dare you?’ That would only have made things worse. It would have appeared that I cared.”
