by Arlene James
“Not you,” she whispered. “You’re sensible and good.”
Delighted, he chuckled. Maybe she wouldn’t hate him, after all. Then he shook his head. “I was a mixed martial arts fighter. How sensible is that?”
“Not very, I guess.”
“Do you know what mixed martial arts is?”
“Yes.”
“Wyatt enrolled me in my first class when I was ten.”
She turned her face up to his. “Why would he do that?”
A grimace escaped before he could restrain it. “I was being bullied by some older kids.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “I was real big for my age and clumsy. These older kids used to corner me after school. Wyatt decided I needed to learn to defend myself, and he was right. The first time I threw one of them over my shoulder, that was the end of it. But I was hooked. I took every martial arts class I could find. And when I turned twenty-one, I let a promoter talk me into going pro. Caged fights.”
“Caged fights,” she repeated carefully.
“It keeps the combatants from throwing each other out of the ring, the way they do in wrestling.” He sighed, embarrassed. “Wyatt tried to talk me out of it, but I wouldn’t listen. I was going to be the most skilled MMA fighter ever born.”
“But you gave it up after Bryan died.”
“I had to. I’d lost it all. My enthusiasm for the sport, my confidence, a big bleeding part of my soul. Myself. I lost myself for a while.” In truth, he still wasn’t sure who or what he was now, but the longer he stood there with his arms around her, the more it seemed to come clear. “The point is,” he told her, “I did a stupid thing, and I regret it. Most young men do at some point, and that’s when they finally grow up. It just breaks my heart that Bryan won’t have that chance.”
“Oh, Ryder,” she said, lifting her hands to his face. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “No, no. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m standing here with the most beautiful woman in the world in my arms.”
For the first time, he thought it might be possible to leave what had happened behind him, to have a full life, to find his place, his calling. That was reason enough to kiss her. But that wasn’t why he did it.
He kissed her because she was the most wonderful thing he’d ever come across and he wanted all she was, all they could be.
Together.
Chapter Eleven
He didn’t do it.
That thought kept popping into Jeri’s consciousness. Ryder didn’t kill her brother. Bryan had done it to himself. Bryan had caused his own death. What she didn’t know was why that information had not been widely disseminated. Deciding to err on the side of caution, she called the private investigator and told him what she’d been told. He hemmed and hawed and finally said that he’d seen the autopsy report confirming that Bryan was using steroids, but Dena had sworn him to secrecy.
“Why would she do that?” Jeri demanded, but she already knew. Dena would do anything to punish Ryder, even if it meant using and lying to her own daughter.
The investigator hadn’t seen the video of the sparring match, but he suspected that Dena had. “I know she took it to a technician. I gave her a name.”
“And he told you that she’d had him edit the video?” Jeri pressed.
The investigator gusted a sigh into the telephone. “I didn’t want to know. Okay?”
A shock of cold rattled through Jeri. Her mother had tried to frame Ryder and use Jeri to spring the trap. The fact that Jeri had been handsomely paying an ethics-challenged private investigator to assist her mother’s perfidy seemed surreal, but she could no longer deny the truth.
“You’re fired,” Jeri said, ending the call.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she dropped her head into her hands and faced facts. She’d wanted to believe her mother’s version of events. She’d wanted Ryder to be at fault. If he—or someone—wasn’t at fault, then she had to accept that God had let this happen for reasons she might never know. It was so much easier to fix blame, to have someone to hate, to feel something other than sadness and grief. She’d helped her mother do this. She’d even whispered lies to reporters in Houston to keep the story alive, thinking she was buying time to get to the truth.
And when Ryder found out, she’d be as dead to him as Bryan, except Ryder wouldn’t think as kindly of her as he did her brother.
Twisting onto her stomach, Jeri lay face down and sobbed, but she didn’t have a lot of time to indulge her feelings. Ryder was waiting. She began to pray, and that calmed her. Thinking clearly again, she realized that she wanted to tell Ryder everything, but she didn’t dare, not until she could convince him how much she cared for him. She needed time.
No matter what happened, she always seemed to need time, but she’d blown so much money on the investigator she couldn’t afford to miss any more competitions. The only solution was to make the most of the time she had with Ryder.
After that kiss, she’d felt happy, ridiculously so, and Ryder had seemed the same. But it wasn’t real. He didn’t know who she was, and she had to decide what she was going to do next. Her options were either to leave here at once or try to stake an emotional claim on the man she’d come here to ruin.
She knew what she wanted to do. She just didn’t know if she had a right to or any chance of success. Still, what did she have to lose at this point?
“Okay, Lord,” she whispered. “Here goes. I’ll understand if it doesn’t work out the way I hope.”
Grimly determined, she dried her eyes, splashed cold water on her face and went out to meet him. Ryder was waiting beside her truck when she got downstairs. He smiled, and every instant of the kiss they’d shared swept through her. An overwhelming sense of relief swiftly followed.
Ryder didn’t do it. He hadn’t killed her brother.
That didn’t mean he would forgive her lies and vicious intentions.
He opened the passenger door for her, and despite her fears, she couldn’t keep back her smile. Running down the steps, she went straight to him. Laughing, he caught her in his arms and turned her into the open truck cab.
“Let’s go get some horses, darlin’. We have work to do.”
She popped up onto her toes to kiss him swiftly before hitching herself up into the passenger seat and handing him the keys. He laughed as he jogged around and got in on the driver’s side.
They worked like a team, as if they’d been working together for years, hooking up the trailer, loading the horses, stowing her feed and gear. After they got her horses settled at Loco Man Ranch, they saddled Gladiator, Star and Betty, and walked them out to the practice site. Then Jeri set up the timer, mounted and went to work.
Glad was eager and strong, driving the turns with his hind legs and laying out those long, effortless strides. The longer she ran him, the faster his times got. She traded him for Star only when his run times started to climb.
“Wow,” Ryder exclaimed, lifting her down from the saddle. “That was amazing.”
“Let’s hope Star is as eager. I think they were happy to be back in the trailer, even for a short ride.”
He’d already tightened Star’s saddle, so she was ready to go. He threw Jeri up into the seat and began walking Glad, who didn’t even bother with his usual balk. Ryder made sure to walk Glad by the timer at the end of every run and call out Star’s numbers to Jeri. Star proved a little headstrong at first, but she soon calmed and got down to business. By the end, she was coming within a blink of Glad’s time. Jeri ended the practice because she could feel Star tiring, but the horse just wouldn’t pull back. Jeri feared the animal would hurt herself, run until she dropped from exhaustion.
Betty, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to settle in to work, but Jeri kept at her until she finally began cooperating. After half a dozen good runs, Jeri called it a day. Then, feeli
ng stiff, she went through her standing stretches while Ryder cooled down Betty. They led all three horses back to the stable, stowed the tack in her trailer and walked, arm in arm, to the house.
That became the pattern for the next two days. The evenings were spent watching television in the den, playing games with Tyler, who felt at loose ends after Frankie went home for the day with his parents, and on the last night, at prayer meeting, where Ryder requested prayers for her safe travel and success in the competition. Afterward, he gassed up the truck for her and helped her pack everything she needed.
Tack, hay and bedding for the horses crammed the truck bed, all securely protected from the weather, while feed and water filled the tanks and bins tucked into the trailer body. Several changes of clothing hung in the tiny cupboard that served as a closet in the sleeping compartment of the trailer. Other necessities filled the narrow drawers beneath it.
Living in a seven-foot-by-six-foot space required clever packing and making do with the barest comforts, but Jeri had done this for long enough to have it down to a science. Besides, she couldn’t afford the roomier, more luxurious trailers, and this way she could be close to her horses at night. Not all rodeos provided top-notch security, after all, and her horses were very valuable.
Every evening ended the same, with her and Ryder standing outside her bedroom door, kissing good-night.
That last night, he leaned in and whispered, “I never thought I’d find you.”
She whispered back, “I never thought I wouldn’t want to leave you.”
They parted with smiles, and when she crept out in the heavy darkness before dawn the next morning, he stood waiting for her again.
They loaded the horses in near silence.
All too soon, it was time to hit the road. She didn’t want to go. Well, she did, just not alone.
He walked her to the driver’s door. “Blow ’em away, darlin’. Blow ’em away.”
“I wish you could come with me.”
Smiling, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Someday maybe.”
She knew exactly what he meant. Someday they could travel together. If they were married. Oh, if only.
She removed her hat and wrapped her arms around his neck. He chuckled.
“Who’d have thought I’d crave the feel of your hat dangling between my shoulder blades?”
“Not me,” she admitted. “Not in a million years.” She went up on tiptoe and kissed him.
He drove her back down onto her heels, bending over her in a way that made her feel sheltered and safe. She knew suddenly that if she didn’t go that very moment, she never would.
Tearing herself away, she got into the truck and started the engine. He stepped away, lifting his shoulders against the cold, and rammed his hands into his pockets. Ruthlessly, she yanked the transmission into gear and drove forward.
Her last sight of him was in the rearview mirror, standing in the glow of her taillights, watching her drive away from him.
She cried halfway to the Kansas state line and prayed the rest of the way.
* * *
It was the longest, most confusing weekend of his life.
At times, Ryder couldn’t stop smiling. Then, all at once, fear would hit him.
What if she never returned?
He knew without doubt that she would come back if only for Dovie and Betty, but what if she couldn’t? Accidents happened. He knew that all too well, so he compulsively checked the weather reports.
Those moments of fear appalled, confused and shamed him. He spent long hours talking to God about it and keeping away from his family, who always wanted to know if he’d spoken to her. He had not.
The urge to call her sometimes overwhelmed him, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Too often Ryder had been casually involved with women who wanted more from the relationship than he could give them. Sometimes, just kissing a woman good-night at the end of a perfectly innocuous date could make her think he was interested in more. This time, he feared the reverse.
He feared that he was reading more into all that had passed between them than Jeri did. Besides, Jeri was working, busy. He could imagine how much she had to do all on her own, and he didn’t want to bother or burden her. Or find out that some other guy more in tune with her world was out there tempting her.
Worry got its claws into him, and he couldn’t seem to shake it. What if she changed her mind about him? She might talk it over with her friends, revealing all she knew, and be influenced by their disgust of him. Even without that, she might not be anywhere near as into him as he was into her.
And what if he called her and heard another man’s voice in the background? Surprisingly, that thought plagued him more than any other. She owed him no fidelity, after all. Why, she could have a boyfriend in every town.
He didn’t believe it.
He didn’t want to believe it.
He reminded himself that he was the one she kissed, the one she went all soft and girly for, the one against whose chest she sighed and smiled and snuggled.
A beauty like her, though, could have any man she wanted. Maybe she didn’t truly want him.
On Monday, he saw that a storm had dumped snow all along her route. He couldn’t help thinking that he should be with her, keeping her safe. As if he could control the weather! The compulsion to express his concern got the better of him, so he texted her.
Watch the weather and take care on the roads.
After a few minutes, she texted back. Roads clear. Be home tonight.
Home.
That one word calmed his fears and restored balance to his mood. That didn’t mean he wasn’t anxious.
He was pacing the floor in the bunkhouse when headlights flashed across the window around 9 p.m. Grabbing his coat, he ran out without his hat. He reached for the handle on the truck door before she even brought the rig to a full stop.
She bailed out without a coat, grinning. He reached for her, and she threw her arms around him. His every fear faded away like so much mist in the wind.
“Welcome home, darlin’. How’d it go?”
She pulled back and reached inside for her jacket. “Second place. By eight hundredths of a second.”
He whistled and helped her slip on the down coat. “You’ll get ’em next time.”
She laughed. “That’s what everyone said. But, man, I’ve got work to do. I don’t have to actually leave again until Friday, though.”
“But you should, right?”
She made a face. “Right.”
“Well,” he said, “it’s just Fort Worth. That’s not too far away.”
A thought had been germinating in the back of his mind. A certain friend had let Ryder know that he had moved from Houston to Dallas, and Dallas was just a hop, skip and jump away from Fort Worth.
He looped an arm around her as they walked back to pull out the trailer ramp. “Second place is still in the money, right?”
“It sure is, and it was a good payout. Fort Worth will be better.”
“Especially when you win,” he told her.
She laughed. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
“That’s just how it’s been going, darlin’. Exactly like that.”
Suddenly stopping in her tracks, she kept her arm through his. Sheer momentum turned him to face her. She reached up, placing her bare hand on the side of his neck. Instantly his pulse leaped into double time. Tilting her head just so, she kissed him.
The part of Ryder’s brain that could still work thought that kissing a woman in a cowboy hat warmed a man more than a fire. But then, this woman would always warm him, hat or no hat, kiss or no kiss.
Jeri was home.
For now, that was all that mattered.
* * *
Home.
To Jeri, this felt more like coming home than an
ything ever had. Tired to the bone but reluctant to leave Ryder just yet, she sat at the tiny bar, looked into the tiny kitchen of the cramped bunkhouse and ate soup she didn’t even want because he’d had it simmering on the stovetop. This was what it would be like to come home to Ryder on a routine basis.
The only thing better, in her mind, would be if he could travel with her, but that could only happen under certain ideal circumstances, and she was afraid to even think about that. Right now, frankly, she was too tired to think at all.
She’d left before 6 a.m. to avoid Denver traffic at its worst and allow enough time for her to make a couple stops and care for the horses and still get home before bedtime. Barely.
“Everything go okay?” Ryder asked, watching a small pot of hot chocolate warming on the two-burner stove.
She nodded and shrugged. “The road conditions were more difficult in places than I’d hoped, but that was this morning. It got better quickly.”
“I couldn’t help worrying about you,” he admitted.
She couldn’t help smiling about that. “I know. But I’m fine.”
Ryder’s concern warmed her. His text had been simple and to the point, but it had pleased her, nevertheless. Not since her brother had died had anyone expressed concern for her safety.
All weekend she’d wondered if Ryder would call, and more than once she’d nearly called him, but as soon as she’d think of it, she’d have to be somewhere or do something else. Because she used to text her brother the results of every contest, she’d wanted to reach out to someone after the results were in. She wasn’t sure how much Ryder knew about barrel racing, however, and he hadn’t tried to call her, so she’d texted her mom instead.
Dena had replied with At least you didn’t break your neck.
Dena had always considered barrel racing to be dangerous and foolish, but she’d stopped lecturing Jeri about it long ago. Bryan, on the other hand, could do no wrong—no matter how dangerous his pastimes. Whatever he’d tried, Dena had supported him.
