by Drake, Laura
Tia poked her arm. “You don’t want Maxie in that big bed of yours?”
Bree’s head whipped around. She should have known. Not much got past Tia.
“Hombres don’t like change,” The older woman chuckled. “You are change.” Tia sobered, watching a shopper wend her way between the cars in the next aisle. “He expected to marry a country girl. That’s what he knows.” Tia looked at Bree’s trendy yoga pants. “You are a city girl. One that knows more than him about a lot of things. That scares him too.” She sighed. “But he is stuck. He is crazy in love with you. He’s like a dog with a piano. He’s not sure what to do.”
“Well, Tia, from what I’ve seen, dogs and pianos don’t much run in the same circles.” Bree reached once more for the door handle.
Tia crossed her pudgy arms over her chest. “Why don’t you tell him your secrets?”
Bree’s neck cracked as she whipped her head to Tia.
“You want him to trust. Why?” She threw up her hands. “Because he likes your bed?”
“Tia!” Bree’s ears burned. Living among men, she wasn’t easily shocked these days, but Tia had managed it twice in as many minutes.
“Men don’t trust like that. Sí, they come running, but the next morning, they grab their zapatos from under the bed and go. They do not stay with a woman they don’t trust.” She gathered her massive purse from the floorboard, then reached for the door handle. “Especially Maxie.”
The next day Bree was no closer to making the long walk to find Max. She had chewed over her conversation with Tia a hundred times. She poured oats from the bucket into Charlie’s manger, then strolled to the next stall. Darn it, I am a good person. So why can’t I just spit it out?
Bree knew Tia was right. If she loved Max, she needed to trust him. But look what happened last time. She’d ignored her gut and told Max of her talk with Trey and watched the top of his head nearly lift off. And that was a firecracker compared to the nuclear bomb of her prison stint.
Still, he deserved the truth. She poured the last wisps of grain into Peanut’s trough, gave him a pat on the rear as she left, sliding the stall door shut behind her. This isn’t going away. I’ve got to make a decision.
Wood creaked. Bree dropped the bucket and whirled.
As if her thoughts had conjured him, Max stood leaning against the stall opposite Peanut’s. She put a hand to her pounding heart. “Jesus. You could give a girl some warning, Max.” She bent to retrieve the bucket, watching him from under her lashes. His thumbs-in-pockets slouch didn’t fool her; he was nervous. His finger-mussed hair and tapping foot gave him away. At least she wasn’t the only one.
Max missed nothing as he drank her in. His heart clenched at the haunted look and dark circles around her eyes. She’s not sleeping. He’d bet anything she was hitting the antacids again. Her fingers worried the bucket handle as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, reminiscent of the high-strung filly that had minced her way along this very aisle this spring. God, you’re a shit. “I got a phone call this morning.”
“So did I. Who was yours from?”
“Our esteemed congressman. Seems that after a review of the BLM proposal, the committee decided not to close the land to open grazing.”
The worry lines on either side of her mouth dissolved into a delighted grin, and she looked once more like his fresh-faced girl-next door. “Max, that’s great news!”
The force of her megawatt smile stunned him and he stood pole-axed, like the hayseed he was. He pushed away from the stall, straightened his spine, and forced his eyes to meet hers. “Just thought you’d want to know.”
She stepped closer. “Maybe Trey came through, after all.”
He hoped she wasn’t getting into the hands’ poker games. She’d lose all her money with an open face like that. “I’d guess not. The vulture I talked to went on about soul-searching and constituent interviews. The upshot is they decided the best use of the land is for cattle, not ski bunnies. Maybe there’s hope for this state yet.”
She held the bucket in front of her like a shield. “I’m so pleased for you. And for High Heather.”
“Bree, I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
Her eyes skittered away. “No, you were right. I didn’t think how it would make you look to Trey. It was a dumb thing to do.”
He crossed the aisle to take her hands, noticing their tremor. “Maybe it was.” Her head came up, sparks in her eyes. This was his Bree, not the haunted woman he’d caught glimpses of this past week. “But you took a chance, and I know you did it for me.” She tried to pull her hands away, but he tightened his grip. “I made you cry. I’ve been ashamed of myself ever since. I’m miserable without you and yet I was afraid to come to you. I was a coward not to make things right before now. I’m sorry, Bree—sorry for it all.”
She studied her feet. “You didn’t make me cry. It was the wine. I didn’t eat much, and I know better than to drink at a business meeting.”
He stopped her mumbled excuses with his lips. Lightly at first, asking permission—forgiveness. She opened slowly, as if unsure of her reception. His chest swelled, and he tightened his arms around her.
God, I’ve missed her. His life had faded to black and white the night she’d galloped out of it. He tried to tell her all this with his kiss as he drank her in, like a man who’d found a seep in the desert. They were both breathless when he remembered. He lifted his head to ask, “What did you want to tell me, Bree?”
She twitched and a bolt of guilt flashed across her face. “Max, I…”
Maybe she was ready to finally tell him the secrets that had stood between them from the very first day. “You mentioned a phone call?”
She hesitated a moment, then smiled. “I got the phone call. From Glenn Martin, the stock contractor of the PBR. He said he’d heard good things about Fire Ant and invited us to bring him to the Built Ford Tough event in Denver this weekend!” She bounced on her toes. “Isn’t that amazing?”
“This weekend? That isn’t a lot of notice, is it?”
“Well, they probably had another bull pull out at the last minute. This is our chance. Don’t you just feel it?”
As she looked up at him, hope shining on her sweet face, he felt something all right, but her little pissant bull had nothing to do with it. He pulled her into a hug, just to have his hands on her. She hugged him back, but let him go too soon.
“Come on, bucko. We’ve got work to do.” She handed him the empty bucket. “Would you mind finishing this for me? I’ve got to figure out how to give Fire Ant a bath. He can’t go to his debut a smelly mess. Then, I’ve got to wash the trailer and get our logo put on the truck doors.” Max enjoyed the view of her cute butt as she strode away, talking to herself. “Jeez, what should I wear? I mean, I am an owner…”
He addressed her retreating back. “Just put the Ant in the squeeze chute and turn the hose on him. He won’t be happy about it, but it should get the worst of the dirt off.”
He looked down at the bucket, then up at Peanut, who tossed his head and stomped a hoof. “Dang, demanding cuss, aren’t you?” he grumbled as he walked to the grain bin. “You’ve been hanging around your owner too long.”
CHAPTER
24
Bree tossed the black halter bra in the vinyl tote on the bed and dug for the matching underwear in the suitcase beneath it. She’d blown another opportunity to tell Max. She recalled the warm acceptance in his brown eyes. There was hope for the future in them.
Home. His kiss made her feel like she’d found home. She might be damned for a coward, but she couldn’t make herself say the words to reveal her past. It’d be like stepping in front of a car on purpose. Your mind won’t allow you to do it, even if you need to.
Bree considered the little black dress hanging in the armoire. Surely that was too fancy to take to a bull bucking. But maybe we’ll have something to celebrate. She chose a pastel silk scarf from her considerable collection and tied it on the hanger. Never hurts to be p
repared. Bending, she retrieved her black stilettos from the very back and wiped the dust off. As long as she was dreaming, might as well go all the way. If Fire Ant somehow managed to go unridden at a televised Built Ford Tough event, the publicity would help to launch him as a sire. And that’s where the real money was.
Tucking the dress into a hanging bag, she picked up her tote and walked out to the truck.
Bree checked the sky. Today had dawned fine, but a front was moving in. The eastern horizon looked like it had been bludgeoned. Purple-bottomed clouds spread like an angry bruise, their tops boiling upward. Fire Ant was already loaded in the enclosed trailer, and the cowboys stood by the truck door, grinning and pointing. Max didn’t look happy. One more cloud on the horizon. She squelched a smile and walked across the yard to face the music.
“What the heck is this?” Max pointed at the magnetic sign she’d put on the door of the truck. She’d created the company’s logo: TOTAL bold, black and masculine. Bull in fanciful script, and tied to the tail of the last “L,” a pink bow.
Her grin stretched wide. He was really going to hate the idea she had planned for the event itself. Opening the jump seat door of the truck, she hopped in. “Marketing.”
Max looked aghast. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re gonna get laughed out of Denver!”
She stuck her head out the window. “Max, the logo makes us different. It takes advantage of the fact that you have a female partner in a masculine sport. Don’t you get it? We’ll be the talk of the event.”
“If you think I’m driving into a parking lot full of good-ol’-boys with that”—he pointed to the offending sign—“you’re nuts. We’ll be the talk of the event, all right. I’ll get my butt kicked all over the arena.”
Wyatt opened the driver’s side door. “Then I’ll drive.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Wyatt pushed Max’s back. “Get your butt in the truck, Max. Bree’s right. This is a good idea.”
“I shoulda known you’d side with her.” Wyatt leveled him a chilly stare. Glancing over, Max saw Bree’s frown. “Oh, all right.” He climbed into the truck and scooted to the passenger side. “But I will never live this down.”
“I’m not telling you your business, sweetie, but this is important.” Bree addressed her bull, where he stood in the small pole enclosure, chewing cud. She’d worried that the indoor arena, all the people, and the proximity of other bulls would make Fire Ant nervous, but she needn’t have bothered. He’d strutted off the truck and settled in to his favorite pastime—eating. “The third ranked rider has drawn you,” she continued. “He’s not going to be as easy to buck off. I’m not even going to tell you his name. It’d make you too nervous.” She paced in front of the fence.
“You’ve got to change it up. If spinning one way doesn’t do it, you’ll have to switch direction or lunge forward.” As she demonstrated possible movements, Fire Ant turned his back and wandered to the hay manger. “Okay, okay, I know you know this stuff. I don’t mean to offend you.” After all, the pep talk was more for her anyway.
Bree leaned away from the gate and smiled at the sight of the pink bow tied to it. It matched the shade of her long-sleeved shirt. Their logo had created quite a stir, so she’d decided to carry on the theme. Max wasn’t quite as enthused. The few times she’d seen him since they pulled in, he was darting looks around and mumbling under his breath.
She gave Fire Ant one last glance, then wandered through the labyrinth of hallways to the concourse. A broad hall circled the arena itself, packed with concession stands and souvenir shops, all dark this early. Turning in at an entrance to the stands, she looked past the tiers of seats to the dirt-covered arena floor. Butterflies took flight in her stomach.
The “Shark Cage” was set up in the center, a squat, round structure that would house the television cameramen tonight, the platform on top a safe haven from charging bulls. Cables snaked everywhere as workers swarmed to get set up. There were six bucking chutes—three on either side of a wide exit gate, with a catwalk above for riders and bull handlers. Sponsor logos hung from every available surface, to take full advantage of camera time. A huge electronic scoreboard hanging from the ceiling flashed “WELCOME TO THE PBR—THE TOUGHEST SPORT ON EARTH.”
Bree slid sweaty hands in her pockets. In forty-eight hours Total Bull would either be recognized as an up-and-coming contractor, or a wannabe outfit.
Anticipation shivered up her spine. The real-life stakes were higher than that. While she had a captive audience in the truck on the way home, she was going to tell her partners of her past. Afterward, one way or another, she could get on with her life.
“Hey, pretty girl.” Max hailed her from two tiers of seats above. She watched as he strode the stairs to her, fluid as a cat. Long legs in tight slim-cut jeans, sharp creases faded to white from repeated ironing. A starched red Western shirt tucked in at his waist, showing off his bronzed face and huge shoulders. How could any girl not fall for a cowboy? She lingered on his dear, craggy face, and best of all, the warm promise in those dark chocolate eyes. They spoke to her of possession. Though the concept would have seemed barbaric to her in the past, she liked the idea of being possessed by this man.
She felt poised on the blade of time. One side held this man and the fulfillment of the promise in his eyes. A home, a career, maybe even a family. The other side… I’m not even going there. Not now.
Max reached her step. “Where’ve you been? We have to find a hotel room, get cleaned up, and be back here by three.” He bent to give her a quick kiss. Well, it started that way, anyway. She put her hands on his shoulders, felt for the riser with her heel and stepped up, so her face was almost even with his. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she poured everything she had into that kiss, wanting to burn herself into his mind like a brand. To make him so indelibly hers that he couldn’t make her leave. As he tugged her snug against his hard body, his hat fell off. Not that either of them noticed.
“Jesus, after all this time, you two still haven’t found a room?” Janet stood above them at the entrance to the concourse in designer jeans, an electric-blue silk blouse, and lots of bling.
Bree shook her head to disperse the passion fog. “Janet?” Is there some kind of cosmic law that if I’m making out in public, she has to show up?
Max bent to retrieve his hat. “You’re the last person I expected to see in Denver, Janet. Did you come for the event tonight?”
“Hardly. I’m in town for Fashion Week Denver.” She fluffed her hair. “Living in the mountains may be trendy, but it’s hell on one’s wardrobe.”
Bree grinned. “So you just happened to wander across town to the coliseum?” She took the steps two at a time until she stood close enough to be engulfed in the woman’s exotic perfume. “You don’t fool me, Janet. You want to see how Fire Ant bucks!”
“Don’t be silly. Max talked up the PBR, and I told Harrison. He may be interested in making an investment, so I’m scouting it out for him.”
Bree only smiled.
“Therefore, I will be at the event tonight.” With that, she turned on the heel of her shiny Manolos and strutted away.
Max’s eyes in the rearview mirror were the color of smoke as he watched Bree. She teased him, wetting her lips and unbuttoning the top button of her blouse. She felt the truck surge beneath her.
“Slow down, Max.” Wyatt glanced up from the map in his lap. “Relax, we’re not that late. You’re going to get a ticket.” He pointed. “Turn left at High Street. The motel’s next to the park.”
Ten minutes later, Max jogged back to the truck, room keys jingling in his hand. “I’ve got something to discuss with Bree, Wyatt. Why don’t you jump in the shower first? I’ll be right behind you.” Taking the carryall from Bree, he grasped her elbow, hustling her to the room number printed in flaking gold on the green plastic key chain.
When he opened the door, the room looked familiar to Bree from her cross-country trip—small, cheap, gene
ric. She hung the dress in the empty closet behind the door. “I’ve got to get ready.” Max snatched her against him as he kicked the door closed with his heel. She raked her fingers through his hair. “We really don’t have time for this.”
He growled and captured her lips. His hands slid to the small of her back and down, tilting her hips against him. His iron erection rolled against her through snug jeans. She realized that with the mating dance in the truck, she’d been teasing herself as well. She wanted him. Now.
She whimpered, tugging at his buttons. He released her lips to rip the shirt over her head. “I’m gonna help you get undressed so you can hop in the shower.” He sucked the tender spot just behind her earlobe. A shudder of passion shot straight to her crotch. He knew all her sexual buttons and seemed hell-bent on pushing every one.
He thumbed the catch to her bra and her freed breasts spilled into his hands. Tossing the bra away, he bent to suckle her. Bree gasped as lust surged into her brain, wiping out all coherent thought. Ignoring his shirt, she tugged at the buttons of his Wranglers. Separating for only a moment, they toed off boots and skinned out of jeans, laughing at their own haste. Max tossed his hat on the bed, not bothering with his shirt. He reached for his jeans pocket, retrieved a condom, and unrolled it on his length. As he turned to her, the want in his eyes made her bold, made her wish she could take him.
Need screamed under her skin as she reached for him, but he was quicker. As he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her mouth taking his. She hardly noticed her back slamming into the wall, because he was there. The tip of him poised at her molten, pulsing center. He went still, except for a fine tremor she felt running through his arms, and his torso, under her thighs. Only their ragged breathing disturbed the room’s hush. She opened her eyes. The hard planes of his weathered face and his searing focus would have frightened her before. Before she pushed through the wall of anger to find the caring, conflicted man that lived behind it. His gaze targeted her lips. He waited.
