The Bull Rider's Plan

by Jeannie Watt

  “Thanks.”

  Emma fastened her seat belt, then retrieved her sunglasses from the dashboard and slipped them onto her nose. She sensed Jess giving her a quick look, but when she glanced his way, he was putting the truck in gear. He maneuvered the vehicle through a narrow space between two horse trailers, then pulled out into the road leading to the highway.

  Things felt awkward.

  She wasn’t going to have it. She’d come along on this trip to be with someone neutral. Someone she trusted who didn’t have an active stake in her life or her business. Somehow, four days in, Jess didn’t seem so neutral.

  He touched you. Big deal. A friendly pat on the cheek.

  Only it hadn’t been a pat. It’d been a caress. And it had started a slow burn inside of her that had later sparked restless dreams that she couldn’t quite remember.

  But what she did remember made her shift in her seat.

  Dear heavens. She cleared her throat, drawing Jess’s attention. Enough of this.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I don’t care if Lara shoots daggers at me.”

  “Why did you care last night?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the beer? I don’t drink much.” She reached for her coffee, took a sip and burned her tongue. “And sorry for telling you she wasn’t done with you. None of my business.”

  He didn’t answer and when she chanced a glance, he seemed to be mulling over her words.

  She faced forward again feeling weary, even though the sun had barely shown above the horizon. “You know, when I was younger, all I wanted to do was to belong. To have the Laras of the world welcome me as one of their own. I still might harbor a touch of resentment toward her kind for not accepting me.”

  “Why?” He seemed genuinely perplexed.

  “It’s important to belong. You had Tyler. You were never alone. I had a bunch of younger brothers who wanted to play army, and an older brother who was hell-bent on protecting me and leaving me behind while he had fun. My friends, Cynthia and Robbie, wanted to belong as much as I did. So we’d talk. Plot how to break into the inner circle.”

  She leaned her head back against the seat and chanced another sip of coffee. Better. The caffeine started rolling through her system, making her feel more like herself. Or maybe it was because the aftereffects of the dreams were evaporating now that she was more awake.

  “You know what I think of when I think of the inner circle?”

  “What?” She gave him a curious look.

  “They’re a bunch of fancy show horses that can’t hack it out on the range where it counts.” He pulled out onto the highway and maneuvered into position behind a pickup going his speed.

  “Not all of them were show horses,” Emma said. “Some of those people were simply comfortable in their skin.” She adjusted her glasses, which had slipped down her nose. “I was comfortable enough with my friends—but when I was around the chosen few, I felt like I had four eyes or something.” She gave him a dark look. “Maybe something to do with people teasing me about my mouth.”

  “You grew into it.”

  “What?”

  “Your mouth. Looks good now.”

  She gave him an exasperated look. “That doesn’t help salve the wounds of high school.”

  “Were you that wounded?”

  She thought for a moment. “I didn’t like being teased. But...no. I was tough.” A sigh escaped her lips. “I did want to be popular.”

  Jess’s hand moved in her direction, almost as if he was going to pat her shoulder, then it abruptly shifted course and he grabbed his coffee.

  “Careful,” she said. “It’s hot.”

  “Thanks.” He kept his eyes on the road and the atmosphere in the truck edged toward uncomfortable. Em shifted in her seat. This was getting weird.

  “What’s happening?”

  Jess’s gaze jerked toward her. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. Why are things between us...different?”

  She thought he was going to say that they weren’t, but instead he muttered, “Maybe because you grew into your mouth.” Emma blinked at him. He shrugged without looking at her. “You’ve changed. I’ve changed. Guess we need to get used to that.”

  “Right.” She gave her head a small shake and grimaced at the highway.

  They had changed. But she wasn’t going to let it matter, because if it did matter—too much—Jess would cut her trip short and she’d be back at the motel, dodging Selma.

  Although...it would probably take her a few days to realize her stepdaughter was back in town...

  No. She preferred being on the road with Jess. When she went back, she’d have it out with Selma once and for all.

  As if that would work.

  She put her coffee back in the holder, folded her arms and closed her eyes. She hadn’t gotten a lot of rest the night before. “Don’t watch me while I sleep,” she murmured without opening her eyes.

  She heard Jess give a small snort of acknowledgment. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied.

  And speaking of dreams, she really hoped she didn’t have any.

  Chapter Seven

  During her barrel racing days, the Red Lodge Rodeo had been one of Emma’s favorites, and she felt a pang as they drove past the Welcome to Red Lodge sign. She had no intention of running barrels again—she couldn’t afford the horse or the travel—but a part of her missed the life she’d given up after her brother’s death. The hole that had opened up had been so huge and all-consuming that even Selma had shut down. It had taken her days to take up the reins of the family again, and then she’d become even more controlling. Selma’s way of dealing with grief.

  Jess stopped at a light and Emma gave him a quick look under the guise of checking out a store on the opposite side of the street. He’d lost, too. He and Len had been almost as tight as he and his twin. Tighter in some ways. And she sensed that they were both still raw. If it hadn’t been for Len, he wouldn’t have brought her along and she would have had to come up with another way to find the space to settle things in her head.

  The rodeo started in the early evening. They would spend the night before traveling on to Livingston the next morning for the final day of that rodeo.

  “We missed the parade,” she said as they drove into the rodeo grounds, trying to make things feel normal once again. “I’m a parade nerd.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted. “Imagine that.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You’ve been in every parade I attended in Gavin.”

  “I didn’t miss many.” None that she could recall before she’d graduated high school. Selma had enjoyed dressing her kids in various themed outfits—Emma’s favorite was the mounted Smurfs, which her brothers had hated—and heaven help them if another group won the youth trophy. After that it was 4-H, rodeo club, high school homecoming—if there was a parade, she’d been involved.

  “We can see the fireworks in Livingston instead,” he said as he parked.

  She met his gaze as she reached for the door handle. “Sounds good.”

  Things felt a little better between them. As if he was making as much of an effort to put things back on a normal track as she was. She very much wanted to stay on the same page, so she was going to be the picture of polite cooperation. No more debates about inane topics or giving her opinion on his rides.

  She needed to keep an emotional distance—somehow—because this growing awareness of the man was increasingly unsettling. Especially when he did things like mention that her mouth looked good.

  Well, his mouth looked good, too, and she shouldn’t be noticing. Hadn’t she just learned a hard lesson about becoming romantically involved with a guy who’d been her friend?

  Yes, she had, and she was not going to make t
hat mistake again.

  Jess met her at the front of the truck and handed her the key to the camper. “Would you mind making a couple sandwiches while I check in?”

  Emma took the key. “Sure.”

  “Thanks, kid.”

  Her old nickname. The one she’d hated when she was a kid. The one that reminded her of how he’d treated her and how he probably still thought of her, even if he did think her mouth looked good.

  “No problem.”

  * * *

  JESS WAS ON the road for one reason—to prove that he was ready to tackle the pro circuit. To address that final bit of doubt as to whether he was ready to give up the security of a full-time job and operate without a safety net—something he’d never done before. He’d envisioned the summer as one of total focus, eye on the prize. What he hadn’t envisioned was having Emma ride shotgun, distracting him. And the bitch of it was, she wasn’t trying to distract him. Nope—that was entirely on him.

  He didn’t know what to do about it, except to drag his eye back to that prize, focus on his goal. It was the only way he was going to achieve anything.

  If only she hadn’t grown into that mouth.

  Jess rounded the corner of his camper and stopped just short of running into a guy leading a horse. He blinked at the man, who gave him a frowning look before walking on, and realized just how deep he’d been in his head. And that was a problem, because he was thinking about Em and not about his ride. His rides hadn’t suffered because of it—yet. But the season was young.

  After the grand entry, he returned to the truck and stretched while he waited for his event. Considering the number of rodeos he attended, it was amazing how little of them he’d seen. He preferred to spend the time before his event going over the ride. Again and again and again. Tonight he’d drawn Squirrely. The bull had been named for the kink in his broken tail, but his personality reflected his name. He was a tad unpredictable. Jess just hoped he got a decent ride out of him, because he wasn’t settling for second place tonight.

  When the barrel racing began, Jess headed for the chutes, more focused than he’d been the past two rides. He was ready. He hoped Squirrely was ready, too. He rode last again, which meant that he’d know everyone’s scores going in. Not that it mattered—he was not giving less than his best—but it was always good to have a number to shoot for.

  As it turned out, that number was eight-nine, which was going to be a challenge.

  Jess was ready. More than ready.

  Squirrely was ready, too. The bull rolled an eye back at Jess as he climbed on board and adjusted his grip. He shifted his seat on the bull’s broad back, found the sweet spot, nodded and the gate flew open. The bull gave a mighty leap out of the chute and then launched into a series of spins, first one way and then the other, and the next thing Jess knew his weight was over his hand, fighting gravity.

  As he went off to his left, the rope twisted over his hand, making it impossible to release as he headed toward the ground. He bounced along the side of the bull a couple of times, sweaty hair and muscle grinding into his cheek, then finally got his feet under him and managed to slacken the rope enough to release his hand.

  He landed in a heap, but Squirrely wasn’t done with him. A bruising kick whooshed by Jess’s head and shoulder, just grazing him as he threw himself on the ground again. As soon as Squirrely gave him some room, Jess was up and running for the fence while the bullfighters did their best to distract the bull from his prey.

  As soon as he hit the fence, Jess started climbing. Squirrely raced by, now intent on finding the gate instead of punishing his rider. Once he brushed past, Jess got down from the fence and headed for the man gate, waving his hand in acknowledgment as the announcer encouraged the cheering crowd to “pay off this bull rider.”

  It wasn’t until he was out the gate and coiling his bull rope that he realized his shoulder hurt like a son of a gun. Even a grazing kick from a one-ton animal did damage. He said a few words to his fellow competitors as he walked past, congratulated LeClair, who was going to win the event, then headed for the truck. He was almost to the end of the alley behind the chutes when he looked up and saw Emma waiting there, her face paler than usual.

  “Don’t you usually watch from the stands?”

  “I do.” She took a few steps forward. “I felt the need to...check on you.”

  “I’m okay. Wish I would have stayed topside, but... I’m good.”

  She gave a silent nod and fell in step with him, keeping a little more physical distance than she needed to. “I never asked this before, but what do you do after a ride that doesn’t go well?”

  “Dissect it and determine to do better next time.”

  “I meant for your body.”

  “Oh.” He glanced over at her. “Ice. Anti-inflammatories.”

  “Ever think about turning the truck around and heading home?”

  They’d just reached the truck as she spoke, and he reached under the wheel well for the keys that he tucked up there when he wasn’t using them, sucking in a pained breath as his shoulder lit on fire. Emma took them from him and unlocked the door.

  “That’s not one of my strategies for winning.”

  “Maybe it should be your strategy for not killing yourself. It was scary watching that bull try to take you out.”

  He blinked at her. This was quite literally not Emma’s first rodeo. She knew about bull riding and the risks involved.

  “Em, you came along as a driver, not my conscience.”

  She propped her hands on her hips and pressed her lips together as she held his gaze. And whereas the old Emma would have argued, this Emma remained stonily silent. Which made him feel the need to talk.

  He didn’t want to.

  “I need to ice my shoulder.”

  “How about your wrist?”

  He unbuttoned the cuff and pulled it back. His skin was already turning bluish-black. Emma gave a snort. “Ice that, too.”

  He leveled a look at her. “You do know that I’ve done this before, right?”

  Her gaze dropped briefly as a wash of color swept across her cheeks. “Right. I...uh... Len. You know?”

  He reached out without thinking, putting his sore arm around her and pulled her closer, giving her a brotherly hug while murmuring against her hair, “Yeah. I know. Trust me.”

  She pulled back a little, a faint frown drawing her eyebrows together as she looked up at him. Her lips trembled as she tried to find words, and that was when Jess gave in to temptation, lowered his head and brought his mouth down to lightly graze hers. Emma went still, and then she slid her hands up his chest and kissed him.

  No more wondering what her mouth would feel like beneath his. Perfect. He started to gather her closer, when she pulled back and he immediately loosened his hold. She drew in a small breath as she put space between them.

  “Em—”

  She raised a hand, cutting him off. “No worries. Really. I’ve been wondering about this, too.” She raised her gaze to meet his dead-on. “Now we know. Right?”

  He could see that she desperately needed him to agree. “Right.” He smiled a little. “Just a moment of temporary insanity. Happens to the best of us.”

  “After Darion and everything... You understand?” Did he ever. He shouldn’t have kissed her—and more than that, he shouldn’t want to kiss her again.

  He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring look. “Totally get it.” He took her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Forgive me?”

  She gave a short scoffing laugh. “Nothing to forgive. Let’s just...move on.”

  “As in pretend it didn’t happen?”

  “I’m going to give it my best shot.”

  So was he, but he was beyond certain that his best shot wasn’t going to be enough to put that short, sweet k
iss out of his head.

  * * *

  WHEN EMMA STARTED her road trip with Jess, she’d fully acknowledged that she was running from trouble instead of dealing with it—and she was okay with that, because she would return to Gavin to fight her battles just as soon as she got a handle on things. The problem was, she was no closer to having a handle on things now than when she’d left. And now she had another facet to deal with—the Jess facet. Dear heavens, but the man could kiss, and it had taken every bit of willpower she had to pull herself away from him last night.

  She still half regretted that decision, which was almost as unsettling as the kiss itself.

  Emma caught a sigh before it escaped her lips. That was all she needed—to have Jess hear her sighing as she stared off into the distance. He’d insisted on driving, despite his shoulder injury, and she’d acquiesced. One thing she’d learned from growing up with brothers—if a guy was going to insist on being all manly, trying to talk sense was only a waste of breath.

  Emma’s phone buzzed and Jess glanced her way. Their gazes connected for an electric moment before Emma looked down at her phone and saw her brother’s name.

  “Wylie,” she murmured. “He checks in with me every day.” She tapped out a quick answer.

  “Nice of him.”

  Emma cast him a wry look, glad to have a safe topic. “He reports back to Selma. Kind of a double agent.”

  Jess gave a snort. “At least you know they care about you.”

  “Care about me. Need to control me.” She let the sigh escape this time. “They don’t know what to do with me. I’m twenty-five years old, but I honestly believe that Selma thinks if I marry someone, she’s done her job. Then she can focus on the boys.”

  “Lucky boys.”

  “I know.”

  Jess maneuvered around a cattle truck. “Why did you want to marry Darion?”

  “He was safe.” As only a good friend could be.

  “Why didn’t you marry him?”

  Emma let a beat of silence pass before saying softly, “He’s safe.” She pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going there. Wasn’t going to discuss her ill-fated engagement with Jess—yet another thing she was in the process of figuring out. Jess must have read her vibe, because he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and leaned back in his seat. Conversation over. Excellent.