by Marin Thomas
“I haven’t stuck my nose into anything.” He jabbed his finger at her and she backed up a step. “You’re the one stirring up trouble with your stupid fundraiser.”
She gasped. “Stupid?”
He stepped forward and Lucy backed up. “You don’t have what it takes to sit a bull for eight seconds.”
She thrust her chin out. “If Shannon can do it, so can I.”
“Shannon’s experienced and she’s not a spoiled little rich girl.”
“I’m not spoiled.”
“Yes, you are.” He crowded her.
She retreated another step. “No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Am not.”
“Are.”
The dance continued across the pen.
“You’re a bully, Tony Bravo.”
Ignoring the charge, he pointed behind Lucy. “Watch out.” Curly had left a few presents in the pen.
“Don’t tell me—” Lucy’s boot came down on a cow patty and her legs flew out from under her. She hit the ground hard, the air bursting from her lungs in a loud “oomph”!
Tony stood over her and smiled at her dazed expression. “You okay?”
“What happened?”
“You stepped in cow poop.”
“Eeew!” In her rush to get off the ground, Lucy rolled over and put her hand right in another patty.
Tony chuckled.
Lucy crawled to her feet and flung her hand out, sending cow manure flying from her fingertips. “You think this is funny?”
“Sorry,” Tony mumbled.
“You don’t sound sorry.” Lucy advanced and Tony kept an eye on her manure-covered extremities. When she got too close he backpedaled until he bumped into the rails. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re too bossy?” She slapped her poop-covered palm against Tony’s shirt then proceeded to wipe her hand clean on his sleeve.
“Damn it, Lucy,” he sputtered. “This is my good work shirt!”
“I dare you,” she said.
“Dare me, what?”
“Dare you to kiss me.” Lucy snagged a handful of his shirt and pulled forward until their mouths were inches apart. Breath mingled. Gazes loaded and locked.
“If you don’t kiss me, Bravo, I’m gonna kiss you.”
Chapter Ten
Tony removed his sunglasses, his brown eyes darkening with desire—a warning of the fine line they walked. As his mouth drew nearer, the blood pumped faster through Lucy’s veins.
Faint or breathe.
Gasping, she swayed forward. Their chests bumped. Gazes locked. Breath mingled. Then Tony’s mouth brushed hers in a soft caress.
A tingle spread through her body, tiny electrical pulses attacking her knees until they trembled. She sagged heavily against Tony and a groan escaped his mouth when she nudged his arousal.
He crushed her mouth beneath his, the kiss firm. Bold. Too brief. “I’m no good for you, Lucy,” he said.
“Shh.” She pressed her clean fingers against his lips, then a moment later replaced them with her mouth. She lost herself in his scent—sandalwood, dust, sweat. As their tongues dueled, he cupped her breast and massaged the nipple. A fire ignited in her belly, which he put out abruptly when his strong fingers bit into her shoulders and he pushed her away.
“What’s the matter?” Her breath came in ragged gasps. “Why did you stop kissing me?”
Ignoring her question he said, “I don’t want you practicing by yourself.”
Startled by the change of subject, Lucy didn’t immediately respond, not that she would have gotten a word in edgewise.
“If you fall and get stomped on, there’d be no one to help you.” He put on his sunglasses and paced in front of her. “And practicing is a waste of time if I’m not here to point out what you’re doing wrong.”
“Any kind of practice is better than no practice.”
“Don’t you get it, Lucy?” He flung his arms wide. “This isn’t about teaching you to ride. It’s about keeping you alive.”
“Aren’t you being a little melodramatic?”
“The best bull riders are the guys who’ve broken bones, suffered concussions and have had their hand caught in the rigging. Pain and fear is a rodeo cowboy’s best teacher. If you don’t survive the first bull ride, then you can kiss the Pony Express goodbye.”
When he stopped talking long enough to take a breath, she said, “That kiss really knocked you off-kilter, didn’t it?”
Ignoring her, Tony removed Curly from the chute then walked him out of the pen.
“Wait!” She dogged his heels. “I’m not through with that bull.”
“Yes, you are. Go find a hose and wash off. You stink.”
“You’re mad because you still want me,” Lucy said.
Tony froze midstep for a millisecond then continued into the barn and put Curly in his stall.
“You can deny it all you want, Tony, but it’s still there between you and me. The fire. The heat. The wanting.”
The quiet click of the stall latch sounded like a bomb exploding in the structure. Tony faced her. Rays of sun streaming through the cracks in the barn’s siding highlighted the dancing dust particles around his head.
“Since you appear determined to have this out—” He took off his glasses and slid them into his shirt pocket. “Yes, it’s all still there between you and me.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“But it doesn’t matter. We can’t do this.”
His words stung. “Is it because you still have feelings for Evita?”
“How did—”
“She told me you broke off your engagement because you couldn’t get over Michael’s death and you said you were no good for her.” Lucy held his gaze. “Is that true?”
Tony strode halfway through the barn then stopped and faced Lucy. “The truth?”
Lucy braced herself.
“I broke up with Evita because I couldn’t stop loving you.”
A thrill raced through Lucy but his next words slammed the door on her joy.
“Not that what I feel for you matters,” he said. “Too much has happened to go back and pick up where we left off. We’re not the same people we were before Michael’s death.”
“If you’re worried about our parents—”
“This has nothing to do with your father or my mother,” he said.
Lucy didn’t want to accept that. She needed a tangible reason that Tony didn’t believe they could be together—how could she fight something she couldn’t see? “Your mother likes me. With time she’ll come around, and you don’t have to worry about my father—”
“Don’t be naive, Lucy. Your father would never approve of us being a couple.”
“My dad might be wealthy and powerful, but he doesn’t run my life. I choose who I want to be with.” And I choose you.
“When push comes to shove, you won’t stand up to your old man.”
“If the Pony Express doesn’t prove I can hold my own with him then—”
“Don’t kid yourself. Your father can shut down the business anytime he wants.”
The truth was tough to deny. The reason her father hadn’t sabotaged her business already was because he assumed she’d run it into the ground by herself. Tears flooded her eyes as she felt Tony slipping away from her.
“Even if our parents came around to the idea of you and me dating, I can’t be with you.”
The intense pain in his gaze stole Lucy’s breath.
“I admire the hell out of you for wanting to do something to honor your brother’s name, but you’re meant for better things than the Pony Express.”
“I can’t leave Stagecoach.”
“And I can’t stay,” he said.
“That’s it? What we had two years ago…what we still feel for each other is—”
“Over.” The agony in his brown eyes gave way to a steely glint.
Tony still loved her, but for reasons beyond her understanding he wouldn’t reach for his own happiness. He might believe he could run from what they’d shared in the past, but one day he’d realize that Michael’s death had created a bond between them that not even distance or time had the power to sever.
“Let’s go.” Tony strode past her out of the barn.
Despair settled deep in Lucy’s bones as she stared at Tony’s retreating back. Maybe he was right. If they left well enough alone, at least she’d go to sleep at night with the knowledge that Tony still cared about her—that was more than she deserved.
She went into the supply room and cleaned up at the sink. When she left the barn she spotted Tony leaning against the hood of her truck. He wore his sunglasses, his sober face giving no hint of their earlier argument.
“Meet me at the station Saturday morning at eight.” He opened the driver’s-side door for her. “We’ll take my truck to Tuba City.”
The firm set of his jaw told Lucy not to bother pleading her case again. Tony had made up his mind—they were finished. She slid behind the wheel and shut the door without a word. As she drove away, tears clogged her throat. What a fool she’d been to believe she and Tony could recapture the love they’d once shared.
When the truck reached the top of the ridge, she pressed the accelerator to the floor and left Tony in the dust.
* * *
“LADIES AND GENTS, the Northern Arizona Junior Bull Rider’s Association welcomes you to the fourth annual Trio Boys Youth Bull Bash in Tuba City!”
Fans in the small indoor arena whistled and stomped their boots on the bleachers. Junior rodeos didn’t draw big crowds, but those who ventured out to watch the teens were enthusiastic and encouraging.
“Competing at the Bar X Arena today are cowboys and cowgirls from as far away as Oregon, Colorado, and Oklahoma.”
Tony and Lucy sat in the stands near the bull chutes—close enough for Lucy to view the cowboy’s routines.
“He looks a lot older than seventeen.” Lucy nodded to a young man climbing on a bull.
The smell of Lucy’s perfume interfered with Tony’s concentration and he missed half of what she’d said. “Pardon?”
She leaned closer, her shoulder brushing his, and darned if a spark didn’t ignite between their bodies. A lot of good his lecture had done a few days ago about there being no future for them. He forced himself to focus on the conversation.
“The kid looks older than seventeen.”
Tony checked the program. “He turns eighteen next month. If he wins today, he’ll have enough points to make it to the Youth Bull Riders World Finals in Abilene, Texas, in August.”
God, he hoped Lucy kept talking rodeo like she’d done during the drive to the arena. He worried that if she brought up the fact that they both still had feelings for each other, his good intentions would fall by the wayside and he’d agree to anything she asked of him.
The past couple of days had been particularly rough. His first thought upon waking in the morning and his last thought before drifting off to sleep at night had been how much he wanted Lucy. How he wished things could be different between them.
“Why does he keep fussing with the rope?” she asked.
Fear. Tony watched the junior cowboy adjust and readjust his grip. “He’s nervous.”
“Folks, Kenny Rainer is about to tangle with Crybaby,” the announcer said. “Let me tell you a little story about this particular bull…”
“The bull doesn’t look much smaller than the ones you and Michael rode,” Lucy said.
“Junior bulls weigh less but they buck and kick just as hard as full-grown ones. This is probably Crybaby’s last season as a junior bull before he moves up in the ranks.”
“If this kid is good, what’s he worried about?”
“Crybaby has never been ridden to eight.” Tony pointed to the write-up in the program.
“What bull am I riding after the rodeo?” she asked.
“Whichever one you want.” Jim Howl of Howl Rodeo Bulls provided the animals for the event and had told Tony that Lucy could have her pick of roughstock.
“Folks, it looks like Kenny is ready to ride!”
A second after the announcer spoke, the chute door opened and Crybaby exploded into the area. The bull kicked his back legs high before spinning in a tight circle. Kenny tried to hang on, but the force of each spin pushed the teen off balance. He slid down the bull’s side, landing near the animal’s hooves. Lucy held her breath as Kenny scrambled out of the way. Unlike Curly, who would have trotted off, Crybaby continued to buck and spin until the bullfighters turned him toward the exit.
While the next kid went through his preride routine, Tony gauged Lucy’s reaction. Her mouth was set in a firm line and her cheeks had lost their glow. It was good that she understood the dangers of the sport and realized women as talented as Shannon Douglas came along once in a blue moon.
“Next up is Jason Bedford from Chiloquin, Oregon. Jason is eighteen years old and he’ll be riding Hercules from the Bangor Ranch in Colorado.”
A half hour later the bull-riding event ended. Three of the young men managed to make it to eight, and Stephen Cooper from Tulsa, Oklahoma, who’d ridden a bull named Audacity, took first place.
“Have you picked your bull?” Tony asked.
Lucy straightened her shoulders. “Crybaby.”
Damn it, he knew she’d go for the biggest one. “No.”
“Why not? At least I’ll be prepared for the bull I’ll draw next weekend.”
“Or you’ll end up injured and unable to ride.”
She opened her mouth then snapped it shut. “When did you become so bossy?”
“I never ignore my gut and it’s telling me you’re not ready for a bull like Crybaby.”
“The one I ride in Ajo will be tougher than Crybaby and I still won’t be ready then.”
“C’mon.” Tony stood. “Let’s take a look at Beastmaster.”
“He’s the smallest bull of the group.”
Tony made an attempt to grab the equipment bag, but she jerked it out of reach and kept walking. Stubborn woman.
“Beastmaster might be the smallest, but he’s the quickest.” More important, after he tossed his rider, he trotted away.
Behind the chutes, they stopped at Beastmaster’s pen, where the bull rested. He appeared less threatening from the stands but up close he was nearly the size of Curly.
“He’ll do,” Lucy said.
Now if only Tony’s advice that she stick with Beastmaster was all she needed to keep her safe. “I have to use the ladies’ room.” Lucy dropped the gear bag and walked off.
* * *
WHEN LUCY ENTERED the women’s restroom she headed straight into a stall and puked. Twice. There went her lunch—hotdog and a diet cola.
After flushing the toilet she rinsed her mouth with water then wiped her face with a damp paper towel and leaned against the wall. The reality of her situation had hit her hard when she’d gotten a close look at Beastmaster—even the junior bulls had horns on them.
You’ve come too far to let fear stop you now.
She’d checked her website before meeting Tony this morning and discovered her fundraising total had reached eight thousand dollars—based on a three-second ride in all three rodeos and Wrangler matching her pledges. In order to collect the money, she had to remain healthy. After witnessing the young men this afternoon, she doubted she’d escape three rodeos without injury—what kind, and how severe, to be determined.
Lord, don’t let anything bad happen to me today.
She’d never compet
ed at anything in her life except during sorority rush week in her freshman year of college. She didn’t want to be a wimp—not in front of Tony. But would her stubbornness be enough to protect her from injury?
“Lucy?”
Tony’s voice echoed through the bathroom opening. No more hiding. When she stepped outside, he looked worried—he should be. The only thing keeping her from tucking tail and calling it quits was Michael. She wouldn’t let her brother down.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you feel well?”
“I’m fine.”
“We can walk out of here right now.” He lowered his voice. “No questions asked.”
It took all of Lucy’s strength not to throw herself at him and hang on for dear life. “I can do this.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go.” He grasped her hand and escorted her to the bull chutes. Lucy soaked up his strength, grateful that he hadn’t tried to talk her out of riding.
The stands were emptying quickly and the arena was quieting down. “Is the stock contractor here?” She wanted to thank the man for allowing her to ride one of his bulls.
“He’s having a beer with friends. His rodeo helpers agreed to load Beastmaster for us. Get your gear on and I’ll check in with the guys.”
Lucy did as she was told. When she finished securing her vest, she put on the face mask and approached the chute. One cowboy sat on the top rail, in case Lucy needed help, and a second man stood inside the arena, waiting for her signal to open the gate.
“Harley, this is Lucy.” Tony nodded to the man straddling the rails.
“Ma’am.” Harley tipped his hat.
“And Bob’s in charge of the gate.”
“Thank you both for your help today,” Lucy said.
“Take your time,” Tony said.
If she took too long, she’d panic. As it was, her blood ran cold through her veins. She climbed over the top rail and settled onto Beastmaster’s back. The bull’s muscles bunched beneath her buttocks and Lucy felt beads of sweat dot her brow.
“Ma’am, he breaks to the right when he leaves the chute,” Harley said. “Make sure you keep low and inside from the get-go.”
Lucy looked at Tony but his face gave nothing away.
