Claiming the Maverick's Heart

by Holt,Debra

  A loud knock at her window almost made her jump out of her skin. She looked up to find Mike Ross smiling at her. She pressed the button to lower her window.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you sitting here and thought I’d see if you’ve had lunch yet.”

  She glanced at her watch. It was indeed almost the noon hour. “I usually go through the drive-thru window over at the Burger Barn and grab something while I’m running errands.”

  “Ozelle’s got fresh cherry cobbler today on the lunch special. That’s better than any fast food. Save me from eating by myself and have lunch with me.” He smiled, coaxing her to accept.

  The mention of cherry pie did pique her interest, but she had also recently examined her relationship with Mike and realized that, while she enjoyed being around him, she was obviously not in the same place in the relationship as he was. He’d made little effort over the last couple of weeks to conceal the fact he was pretty well smitten with her, as her grandmother would have said. And she had heard rumors recently linking their names with the sound of wedding bells. She needed to tread carefully. She didn’t want to hurt him or lead him on if she couldn’t match his feelings. Of course, Trace’s return and the mind-numbing kisses that had not changed had complicated all of this, too. The anger she’d held in place for Trace for so long had somehow changed into confusion … and something else she wasn’t prepared to examine.

  “It’s just lunch, Macy,” Mike said, noting her indecision.

  “Right … and I do love cherry cobbler.” She grinned as she opened her door and stepped out to join him. What could it hurt?

  It was only natural that she wrapped her arm around the one he offered her as they stepped to the sidewalk. Mike had always been easy to talk to and be around. He never expected too much. Maybe she was being ridiculous. He had a nice smile and, though he was only an inch or so taller than she was, he was a handsome figure of a man. His demeanor was quiet, but he had a good sense of humor. He would make a good, solid family man and husband. Mike was partnered with his father in the largest feed store in the county, and he was on the city council. Yes, he was a man most women would deem a good matrimonial catch.

  Then why couldn’t she find more enthusiasm in his company? The few times he had kissed her had been pleasant enough but had lacked the most important ingredient … passion. Her heart had remained untouched. Try as she might to not do so, she couldn’t help comparing him to Trace. It wasn’t fair, she knew. No one could compare with Trace. And that brought up a whole other problem.

  Before she could examine that issue, the man himself stepped right out of her thoughts and into their path. All three of them stopped, equally surprised and equally uncomfortable. They were in front of the post office where Trace had exited, a small package in his hands.

  “Hello, Trace.” Mike spoke first. “How are you?”

  “Good, and you?” Trace nodded in greeting. “Hello, Macy.” He barely glanced at her, his gaze quickly going over the entwined arms and then on to the man.

  “Fine. It’s good I ran into you. That special feed came in this morning. I can have it delivered out to your new place, or you can pick it up. Whichever you would prefer.”

  “I’ll swing by and pick it up while I’m in town. No use you having your people make a trip out that way.”

  “Well, Macy and I are headed to Ozelle’s for some lunch. Would you care to join us?”

  Macy’s insides tightened while she kept the smile on her face. Why would Mike extend the invitation? What if Trace accepted?

  “That’s a mighty nice invitation, but I have an appointment. You two have a good lunch. Nice seeing you both.” Trace slid the aviator glasses from his pocket and put them on. Then he smiled at them and stepped off the sidewalk, crossing the street to his truck.

  “I’d better call the store and have the boys get his order stacked on the dock for him.” Mike said something else too, but Macy wasn’t paying attention. Her eyes followed the black truck as it moved down Main Street and turned left at the light. Was that how it would be for the rest of their lives? Each time they ran into each other, they’d exchange a few pleasantries and then walk on? She guessed this must be the first step in moving beyond the hurt of the past to simply being friends. Why then did it feel like a different kind of hurt had just begun?

  Chapter 11

  Macy toyed with the idea of staying home. She could still catch Mike on his cell phone and plead a migraine. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and slowly shook her head. Why couldn’t she simply look forward to the evening ahead? Maybe because she knew she’d see Trace? And too many memories would crowd in no matter what, she was sure. Coward.

  She looked at herself once more. She’d purchased the new outfit to garner some courage—and because Kerry, the salesclerk at the western-wear store, gave a good sales pitch. The jeans had rhinestone butterflies on the back pockets and were molded to her bottom. The same bling was on the cuffs and collar of the waist-length denim jacket. The red satin, button-front blouse showed a hint of cleavage. Her black boots were polished to a high shine … something that wouldn’t last long in a dusty rodeo setting, but they looked good right now. Kerry had promised the outfit was “understated sexy”—whatever that was. Macy was used to wearing lots of bling from showing her horses in competitions, but that had been for an audience who expected the flash. She wasn’t on a stage now, but maybe she needed to break out of her usual mold. And she wanted the confidence the outfit had given her in the store. Anyway, rodeo came only once a year, so why not go for it? She decided to keep her hair down, and it hung past her shoulders in sleek, full waves.

  In the end, she didn’t call and beg off. An hour later, she found herself seated in the Ross Feed Store’s private box. Unfortunately, that box happened to be next to the Eagle’s Peak Ranch box. Travis and a couple of other people were already there when she and Mike arrived. Everyone smiled at each other and shook hands and nodded heads. Macy tried to keep her concentration on the program as the men talked livestock and feed prices. All the while, her heightened senses awaited the familiar voice that would herald the arrival of the celebrity of the evening. All she’d heard all week, wherever she went, was talk about Trace Cartwright riding in the hometown arena again. More often than not, the talk would die down to a whisper once they realized she was within earshot. As if hearing her ex-fiancé’s name would upset her or something. Too late for that concern.

  Turning the page in the program, she found herself looking smack-dab into those emerald green eyes. A full-page, color photo of the man himself—obviously, it was a publicity stock photo. Trace stood with one hand hooked in a pocket, the other holding a coil of rope, long legs in leather chaps, and his black hat pulled at a low angle on his head. The gleam in his eyes and the cocky grin on his sensual mouth guaranteed souvenir status to the photo. Macy felt her mouth go dry. She knew personally the full, potent value of that look up close. She closed the book and placed it on the chair next to her. Mike was deep in conversation, but he looked over at her as she rose from her chair. With a smile, she indicated she was going for something to drink. He offered to get it for her but she motioned him to stay seated.

  Ten minutes later, she had a bottled water in one hand and cotton candy in the other. She felt silly, but she couldn’t walk past the 4-H Club’s cotton candy fundraiser booth and not support the cause. It was her civic duty to help out. At least, that’s how she justified the purchase. Leaving the booth, she turned a corner behind the stands and came face to face with the centerfold himself. Trace seemed as surprised to see her in his path as she was to see him, but he recovered quickly. His eyes moved slowly to take in her outfit and then the fluffy pink confection in her hand. A grin deepened the grooves beside his mouth.

  “I see you still love your cotton candy.”

  “Can’t watch a rodeo without it. It’s tradition.”

  “You look mighty nice this evening.”

  His eyes had already said
that, but Macy found she liked hearing it. “Thank you. So do you, in a sexy cowboy sort of way.” Oh no … I didn’t say that aloud, did I? Could the ground just open and swallow her up? Why did she always let her speech run on until she’d said too much? So much for trying to be cool and collected.

  His grin grew bigger, and the gleam in his eyes definitely held a hint of wickedness. “I’m glad you approve.”

  “I mean, you look like a celebrity, like in the photo in the program tonight that most people will think you look good in.” Shut up. The hole is getting deeper. Macy clamped her mouth shut to keep from rambling on and making a bigger fool of herself.

  “Well, let’s hope people will keep in mind how good I look when I’m tossed on my butt in the dirt tonight.”

  “You? Tossed in the dirt? I doubt that.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence but ol’ Crazy Eight might have another idea.”

  “Crazy Eight? I heard people talking about him. They said he’s really crazy … it’s not just a name. He’s a bone breaker. Why are you riding him? You don’t need to prove anything. Don’t you have enough belt buckles and saddles already? Why not do an exhibition ride? You don’t need to compete.”

  He looked at her with a strange expression in his eyes. “It’s the luck of the draw, Macy. You know that. We don’t choose our rides. We take what we get and make the best of it. I’m not confined to a rocking chair yet … I can still compete now and then. You wouldn’t be worried about me, would you?”

  “Of course I’m worried.” Would she ever learn to count to ten at least before she said anything around this man? She could feel warmth stealing along her cheeks. “I worry about all the cowboys who choose to do something as insane as crawl on the back of a bronc or a bull. I see that the lure of the rodeo arena got to you after all. You still have it in your blood.”

  “Here I thought I was special. Guess not. Anyway, it feels a bit like old times being back in this arena … and standing here with you. And your cotton candy,” he teased, his whole demeanor definitely heating the air around them. “And for the record, the lure of the arena allows me to contribute to the charities this rodeo supports. That’s the only reason I agreed to add my name. It does draw in a few more people and their pocketbooks. But it’s for the run of this rodeo only. I won’t be heading down any more long roads leading away from home. Everything I need is right here in Cartwright’s Crossing.”

  Why did her heart have to skip so fast? Why did he have to look so good, and why wouldn’t her heart listen to her head? And the fact that he was riding to help the community and not himself … that made her feel spiteful for even bringing it up. And what he said about not leaving? Her heart tumbled around in her chest. “The cotton candy’s for a good cause … the scholarship fund for the kids and their show animals. Want some?” She felt like the teenager she’d been, who had taken one look at this wild cowboy and fallen head over heels. And when he’d noticed her too … the world had been made for her.

  “I’ll pass on the cotton candy. Thanks for the offer though.” His grin turned into a smile that turned into something a lot sexier as he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “However, I wouldn’t mind a kiss—for good luck. It might jinx my hometown ride tonight if we don’t keep that tradition up and all.”

  “You’ve done fine without it for ten years. Maybe it was some other girl’s kisses at the rodeos that caused you to win.”

  Trace shook his head slowly, a gleam burning in the depths of his eyes. “No other kisses ever made me feel I could take on the world and win every time … only yours.”

  Her mind registered the words but her reaction time wasn’t as swift. Trace’s head bent toward hers, and she didn’t resist when his lips brushed across hers. It was over almost as soon as it began, but it sizzled down to her toes all the same. Just like all the other times she had wished him good luck with a kiss before a ride. He had never failed to win, and he said it was her good luck kiss that did it. Silly stuff. Yet, still achingly romantic.

  “Sweet as ever. That should do it.” He winked at her, turned, and strode toward the pen area.

  Macy came to her senses and looked around quickly to see if they’d had an audience, but the spot wasn’t that conspicuous. Very few people were paying attention to anything going on behind them, watching instead the action in front of them in the arena. For that, she was grateful. She collected her wits about her and made her way back to her seat.

  The lights in the arena dimmed a few minutes later, and the pageantry of the grand entry began. Macy couldn’t help but smile, remembering the times she’d participated in it on her barrel racer, Blueboy. Those were good times … fun times. Now, they were nice memories. After the grand entry and the posting of the colors, the rodeo announcer called up the first event—bareback bronc riding.

  Her eyes scanned the jumble of cowboys standing around the chutes, even as she told herself she wasn’t looking for anyone in particular. The pang of disappointment she felt when her survey came up empty belied those words. She thumbed through the program again and saw they had wisely divided the event into two rounds. The star of the evening would be riding in the second round, scheduled as the last event. Macy closed the book and joined in the conversation around her, cheering for the contestants and applauding for each participant.

  The evening went surprisingly fast. The announcer’s voice called up the second, final round of broncs. The event began and the first two riders did their thing … one stayed on for the full eight seconds, and one was bucked off almost right out of the chute.

  Her pulse quickened as she caught sight of the familiar emerald-green shirt and black cowboy hat among the cluster of cowboys at the next chute. Her heart lodged in her throat as she watched Trace climb over the rails and settle onto the back of the horse. The announcer whipped the crowd into feverish anticipation as the hometown-hero-turned-world-champion prepared to bust loose. All Macy knew was that she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight. Her pulse thudded in her ears. She tucked her hands under the edges of her seat as she tried to give the appearance of being just another spectator. But she wasn’t. She had once loved the man enough to want to be with him always … and she still did.

  The revelation hit with the same force as if she were the one on the back of the bucking horse that burst through the open gate and into the arena. Everything was a blur after that—the cheer of the crowd, the spinning horse, the cowboy giving the performance the crowd expected. The blare of the buzzer indicating the end of the eight-second ride brought the breath back to her lungs. Her eyes followed Trace as he dismounted, landing on his feet and sweeping his hat off his head in a grand gesture. The entire crowd rose to their feet in applause. He turned and then stopped, his eyes finding hers in the midst of it all. For that brief moment, no one else was in the arena. Another revelation hit Macy—there would never be anyone else, either. Oh, Lord.

  She watched, almost numb, as Trace positioned his hat back on his head, then turned and walked back to the chutes. A sea of cowboys swallowed him, pulling him in for backslaps and handshakes. Macy was aware of people laughing and talking and moving out of their seats as the first night of the rodeo concluded. She sank quietly back in her chair, her mind wrapping itself around one glaring truth—she hadn’t learned anything in ten years. A glance, a kiss, and Trace had walked right back in and reclaimed her heart. Except … her heart had been with him these ten years. He’d brought it home to her. What was she going to do? He’d said they would be friends. That was all he had offered.

  Well, there was one thing she was certain of—he could never know. She had to find a way to steel herself against his power.

  Chapter 12

  “You’ve been very quiet since we left the arena,” Mike said, glancing over at Macy as they neared her house. “You didn’t eat much of your dinner either. You’re not coming down with something, are you?” His concern was mirrored in the warm brown gaze he moved over her face.

  Sh
e forced more of a smile than she was feeling. “I’m fine. I guess I’m overtired. It’s been a long day—up at five o’clock this morning and then all the activities this afternoon and the rodeo too. I’m sorry I’m not better company.”

  “No need to apologize. You work far too hard on this place, and almost all on your own. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that very thing.” They arrived at their destination as he finished the sentence. He switched off the engine and seemed to be gathering more thoughts on the subject. “I’d like to offer a solution to that.”

  Macy really wasn’t in the mood for any discussions tonight. Her mind and emotions were still too jumbled from the revelation that had come earlier while she watched Trace complete his ride. She placed her hand on the door handle. “Would it be all right if we completed this conversation tomorrow maybe? I have another early morning. But you really don’t need to worry about me. Josh Keller, Keith and Louanne’s oldest son, has been helping out. He’s agreed to come on part-time to help with all the things Jeb did. It’ll fit in with his schedule at junior college in the fall too, so it should work out fine.” She opened her door and stepped out. Mike soon joined her, walking with her to the front door.

  “That’s good and all, but I still want to talk to you about the future. Our future.” They both stopped at the same time. Macy looked at him and saw the hint of nervousness in him. “Gee. I had this all planned out for next week on your birthday and all, but I feel like I need to say something tonight.”

  “It sounds serious, Mike. Are you sure this shouldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

  “I might lose my courage by then, Macy.” His grin was definitely shaky and so was the hand he reached out to grasp one of hers with.