by JoAnn Ross
“How the hell did you know that?” she asked finally.
“I’ve spent some time in Kentucky,” Sunny said. “I once just about went blind taking a sip of Hatfield moonshine.” She decided there was no point in trying to explain about her relationship to Devil Anse Hatfield.
“My great-grandpappy was a Hatfield,” Kitty said. “That’s where I got my recipe.”
Sunny smiled. “Isn’t it a small world?”
“I STILL CAN’T believe it,” Clint said later that evening as they walked back to the motel. He was carrying the huge jar stuffed with dollar bills. “How the hell did you know that?”
“I told Kitty the truth. I spent some time in Kentucky. Once you’ve tasted mountain moonshine, you don’t forget it.”
“Apparently not…. So,” he said with a casualness he was a long way from feeling, “were you working in Kentucky?”
“Yes.”
“As a housekeeper?”
“No.”
She sighed, wishing he hadn’t brought it up. She’d been feeling so good about the money, although she still hadn’t figured out a way to get him to take it. Perhaps she’d just leave it behind when she left to go home.
When that thought proved too depressing, she turned her thoughts back to the subject at hand, where once again she’d gotten herself stuck in a no-win situation.
If she told the truth, Clint undoubtedly wouldn’t believe her. And even if he did believe her, how encouraged would he be about his own impending match when he discovered that she was partly, albeit accidently, responsible for one of the most famous family feuds in America?
“You know,” he suggested as the silence lingered, “we can play twenty questions all night. Or you can just tell me.”
“All right.” She shivered. Although the day had been warm, the night was cool, making her wish she’d worn a jacket. “I was Devil Anse Hatfield’s fairy godmother.”
He cursed beneath his breath, and juggled the money jar as he shrugged out of his denim jacket in order to put it around her shoulders. “I should have seen that one coming.”
Sunny caught hold of the lapels and drew them together, cocooning herself in the jacket’s warmth. “You should have.” “Guess you kinda blew that romantic love match.” His tone was as mild as hers had been.
“I suppose you could say that.” Not wanting to think about her previous failures, she turned her gaze upward and drank in the sight of the millions of sparkling stars. “It’s so beautiful,” she said softly. “The sky is as wide as this land. And so clear it’s as if you could see forever.”
“And beyond.” In a casual gesture that felt comfortably right, he put his arm around her shoulder and stood with her, looking up at the vast black sky studded with diamonds.
Music from the saloon was filtering into the parking lot, a sad song about a cowboy missing the woman he’d loved. The sound of a woman’s laughter reached them on the cool night breeze. Across the street at the rodeo grounds, horses whinnied and radios set to different country stations clashed discordantly.
But all distractions faded slowly away as they stood, side by side, drinking in the beauty of a clear December desert night and the unspoken enjoyment of each other’s company.
Sunny felt as fragile as fine crystal beneath his arm, Clint thought, yet the way she’d stood up to his boorish behavior proved that she was definitely no pushover. Escaped strands of hair drifted like silk over his hand and her scent, which he knew he’d be able to recognize blindfolded, teased his mind, tormented his senses, and tempted his resolve to stay out of any emotional quicksand. If it were only that easy.
Sunny knew she was playing with fire, being out here, alone in the dark with a man who could make her nerves jangle with merely a sideways glance and cloud her senses with only a kiss. The thing she should do, she told herself, was move away now. Take her money jar and escape into her motel room, then bolt the door behind her. Which would keep Clint out of her room. But unfortunately, it was too late for locking him out of her heart.
She nearly wished for her own fairy godmother to set things right, then just in time, snapped her mind shut. The second wish was for Clint. The third was to return home. So long as she kept that in mind, Sunny assured herself, everything would work out just fine.
“Five thousand dollars for your thoughts,” he murmured.
She glanced up at him, puzzled, then remembered the money he was holding. “I thought the saying was a penny.”
“Gotta figure in inflation.” Unable to resist, he brushed his lips against the top of her head, breathed in her scent and wondered what the hell they were doing standing in a public parking lot when they could be in his room, in his bed, tangling the patched sheets. “And, you’ve got to consider the lady who’s thinking those thoughts.” His breath fanned her temple. “You’re definitely no cut-rate lady.”
His words, as warm as the breath that was heating her skin, made Sunny feel as if she were about to melt into a little puddle at his boots.
“I was thinking how complicated life could be,” she answered softly, afraid to look up at his face for fear of what she’d see.
“It doesn’t have to be.” His arm tightened, not forcefully, but enough to press her tight against him. “The way we’re both feeling right now—the way this has been building from the beginning—we could go to my room, or yours, if you’d feel more comfortable, take our clothes off and drive each other crazy.”
“Well that’s certainly romantic,” she muttered. His body was as hard as the rocky escarpment of the Mogollon Rim country he called home and just the thought of him pressed against her, holding her, claiming her, sent a renewed, painfully familiar thrumming through her veins.
“I suppose I could fancy it up with pretty words.” He nibbled at her earlobe, then made her shiver when he touched the tip of his tongue to that sensitive spot he’d discovered behind her ear. “But it wouldn’t change what’s happening here.”
“And what’s that?” As his lips continued their sensual teasing, she closed her eyes, and still saw stars.
“Attraction.” He kissed her left eyelid and made her sigh. “Chemistry.” A sound like a whimper escaped her parted lips as he moved to the right lid. “Animal magnetism.” He skimmed a finger down her nose, then kissed the slightly tilted tip.
“Sex, desire, the man-woman thing.” He touched his mouth to hers, a touch as gentle as a feather, then, when she leaned toward him, pulled just out of reach. “We’d be good together, Sunny.”
He looked down at her. Moonlight danced on her exquisite, uplifted face and he felt something inside him move. Something he feared had nothing to do with chemistry. And everything to do with much deeper feelings.
“However,” he said, snapping himself out of the spell he’d begun to weave around her, around himself, “I understand how all this might be new to you. You need time to mull things over. Time to get used to the idea that you and I are a perfect match.”
Although it took a major effort, Sunny opened her eyes and forced herself to look directly into his. “You’re wrong.”
He surprised her by grinning at that. An amazingly boyish grin that held considerable charm. “What kind of fairy godmother argues all the time?” he asked. “I thought you were supposed to grant my every wish.”
“I told you, that’s-”
“Yeah, yeah, a genie. But there must be some bylaw somewhere that states you’re supposed to make my every dream come true.”
“Of course, but—”
“I figured as much.” He nodded, pleased with himself as he began walking up the outside stairs. With his arm looped casually around her waist, she had no choice but to go along.
“How about handing it over?” he asked when they reached her door.
“What?” Shocked, she looked up at him. He couldn’t mean…No, Sunny assured herself, he wouldn’t mean that. “The key, darlin’.” He chuckled and held out his free hand.
Grateful that the light over the door ha
d burned out, which kept him from seeing the embarrassed color that had flooded into her cheeks, Sunny dug the key out of her suede bag and handed it to him.
He opened the door, then, when she was inside, handed her the jar of dollar bills that was heavier than she would have guessed.
“And by the way, just for the record, you know what I said about dreams?”
“Yes?” She tensed, waiting for him to laugh and tell her he was only joking about beginning to believe her.
“I’ve been dreaming of you.” That said, he bent his head and took her lips.
He took his time, kissing her with tenderness and finesse. His tongue tangled with hers, his teeth nibbled at her lower lip, drawing her into the mists. With her arms wrapped around the jar, she was quite literally helpless. Unable to resist his seduction, and her own rising needs.
“Clint…” His name came shuddering out between her tingling lips on a soft moan. Every nerve ending in her body was tightly coiled waiting for something she couldn’t quite understand.
“Darlin’, you were wrong.” He dipped his tongue into the slight hollow beneath her bottom lip and discovered an erogenous zone she would never have imagined existed.
“About what?” Was the room spinning? Or was she?
“About losing your powers. Because we’re definitely dealing with something otherworldly here, Sunny.” He touched his lips to hers again, once, twice, a third time; each light kiss lingering a heartbeat longer than the previous one. “Something that feels a whole lot like magic.”
His entire body ached. His head throbbed and Clint knew that if he didn’t leave right now, he was lost. Of course, he thought with grim humor, he was probably lost anyway. But when he fell, he wanted to make damn sure he didn’t take that long fatal tumble alone.
“Good night, sweetheart.” He backed away, enjoying the desire in her eyes. Then, because he couldn’t resist the lure of those softly parted lips, he reached out and skimmed a finger around them, and was rewarded by her tremor. “You’ll dream of me.”
As he would dream of her. As he had since she’d first arrived. Hot, sexy, raunchy dreams that left him as randy as an old billy goat.
Sunny stood looking up at him, unable to answer. Unable to think.
Satisfied and frustrated at the same time, Clint gave her one last smile, then pushed her gently back into the room.
“Make sure you double bolt this door behind me,” he said. “This isn’t the safest neighborhood in town.”
Sunny’s mind was reeling as she watched the door close, cutting him off from her.
“Lock the door, Sunny,” he called to her.
Moving as if on autopilot, she stuffed the money jar under one arm and managed to do as instructed.
“That’s the girl. Sweet dreams, darlin’.”
He was whistling as he walked the few feet to his own door, leaving Sunny all alone, confused and wanting.
11
THE PIQUANT AROMA of Kitty’s moonshine-enhanced barbecue mingled with the scents of straw and manure. Cowboys wearing fancy competition chaps over their best jeans leaned against fences and watched the action.
One cowboy sat atop a hay bale, chewing tobacco as he stared off into space, presumably making his upcoming eight-second ride over and over again in his mind. Others rubbed mink oil into their saddles, practiced their rope throws, polished their belt buckles one last time, or found a quiet corner away from the action to pray.
Little girls rode imaginary horses between the trailers. Little boys, wearing too-large hats that rested on their stuck-out ears strutted behind the scenes, twirling childsize ropes, dreaming of the day they’d compete as their fathers were doing today, and as their granddaddies had before that.
Wives and girlfriends sat on fences and in the bleachers. They drank from bottles of beer and cans of Pepsi, wet from ice chests, and balanced paper plates of barbecue on their laps while trying to keep track of their children, who, as children will always do at rodeos, tried to sneak away to see the horses.
A country band, brought in from Tucson, entertained the crowd with renditions of old favorites like Garth Brooks’s “Rodeo” and Billy Dean’s “You Don’t Count the Cost.”
Sunny was captivated by all the exotic sights and sounds.
“This is so wonderful!” she told Dora as she watched the Grand Entry. The dazzling performance by the precision equestrian drill team caused a flurry of camera shutters all around the arena.
“I’ve lived sixty-six years and still haven’t found anything that compares,” the older woman agreed with a broad smile.
The oversize American flag drew cheers from the audience as they stood up to sing the national anthem. Cowboys, even those preparing to compete, stopped and held their hats over their hearts. Sunny found the sight one of the most moving things she’d ever seen.
The day flew by. There were bareback riders, saddle bronc riders, calf ropers, men who wrestled steers, women who rode their horses around barrels with blinding speed, and clowns who not only entertained, but risked their lives to keep contestants alive by drawing the attention of angry bulls from fallen riders.
Although it wasn’t necessary, the bass-voiced announcer kept the audience’s enthusiasm up by encouraging them to applaud the losers as well as the contenders, “because that’s all that cowboy’s gonna go home with today, folks.”
Sunny’s heart was in her throat as she watched Clint climb the chute and settle astride the muscled back of a tall dark horse named Desperado. The instant he felt the unwanted weight, the bronc begun bucking wildly, making the cowboys who’d been standing on the gate scatter.
“I can’t stand this,” she moaned, covering her face with her hands. But, unable to resist looking, she reluctantly splayed her fingers. “I just know he’s going to get killed.”
Earlier in the day a young Navajo bareback rider from Window Rock had made a one-point landing right on top of his head. A worried hush had come over the arena as the paramedics had taken him out on a stretcher. Although the announcer later informed the crowd that the cowboy was going to be okay, Sunny knew that the outcome could have been tragic.
“Clint knows what he’s doing,” Dora assured her. “Don’t you worry, he’ll make his eight seconds just fine.”
“But it says here in the program that Desperado is one of the wildest horses there is. That no one’s been able to ride him all year.”
“That’s in Clint’s favor. The whole thing’s scored on points, honey. It doesn’t matter how much ability and grit you have if you don’t get a good bucking horse. Clint was lucky drawing that outlaw.”
Luck, Sunny decided, definitely meant something different when it came to rodeoing. She watched in horror as the bucking horse rammed Clint’s elbow against the metal rail. Seconds later, the gate opened and the stillscrambling horse tore out of the chute like an explosion of dynamite.
The next eight seconds were the longest of Sunny’s life. The wildly bucking black horse did everything it could to throw Clint to the dirt, and Clint did everything he could to stay on Desperado’s back. She watched with a fierce and anxious intensity, and vaguely heard Dora explaining that Clint must keep one arm in the air and his spurs pointed toward the horse’s head, a position that made the furious horse only buck harder.
Finally, just when Sunny thought her nerves couldn’t take it any longer, the horn sounded, signaling the end of the ride. She felt every muscle in her body loosen as the pickup rider helped Clint off the bronc’s back and onto the ground.
“A ninety-six,” Dora said, nodding with satisfaction as the announcer read the score. “So long as he stays on tomorrow night, nobody’s gonna beat that.”
Sunny didn’t care about points. She was just vastly relieved that he’d survived. Concerned about his arm the horse had jammed into the rail, she left the bleachers, and went behind the scenes to make certain he was truly all right.
She found him, engaged in what appeared to be an intimate conversation with Charma
yne Hunter. The woman’s hand was on his cheek; her hungry eyes were practically eating him up. If Clint had been one of Kitty’s barbecue beef sandwiches, Sunny thought with a burst of irritation, he’d be a goner.
Reminding herself that having chosen this woman for Clint, she should be relieved they seemed to be hitting it off so well, Sunny was about to retreat to the bleachers when Clint caught sight of her.
Saying something Sunny couldn’t hear to Charmayne—what she would have given for lip reading abilities just then!—he called Sunny’s name and began striding toward her, his fringed chaps making his legs look even longer and more muscular.
“So,” he said, grinning down at her, “what did you think?”
“Before or after I had my heart attack?”
He laughed at that, feelingmore carefree than he had in a very long time. “Watching rodeo isn’t for the fainthearted,” he agreed.
“Forget about watching. How about doing?”
“Ah, that’s the easy part because you’re so busy trying not to be embarrassed by landing on your ass, you don’t have time to be scared.”
She shook her head but found herself enjoying the laughter in his gaze. Lines she’d never noticed before crinkled upward from the corners of those vivid blue eyes.
“I’d be lying if I said my nerves aren’t gnawing in my gut when I climb into that chute,” he admitted. “But that’s what rodeo’s all about. Giving the bronc or bull every opportunity to beat you. Then showing him he’s not tough enough to do it.”
“You realize, of course, the fact that you even consider riding an angry animal that outweighs you by at least a thousand pounds proves you’re crazy.”
“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it.” His grin was quick and warm and definitely contagious.
“I’m afraid the logic of that escapes me,” she said dryly, even as she smiled back.
“I’m crazy.” He bent his head and brushed his curved lips against hers. “And you’re crazy.” His mouth lingered, creating a flare of heat that went all the way down to her toes. “Which I’d say makes us a perfect match.”
