Rodeo Daughter (Harlequin American Romance)

by Leigh Duncan

  “Have I told you about the first time I performed in the rodeo?”

  Hailey’s feet drummed the leather upholstery. “I don’t care.” She threw herself against the seat back. “Stupid old rodeo. Stupid. Stupid. I wanna see my daddy.”

  Amanda took a calming breath and eased Hailey’s arm under the seat belt. “I was just about your age. I got to wear a beautiful costume. It had sparkles.”

  Hailey’s complaints stopped abruptly. She peered up, her expression owlish. “A lot of sparkles?”

  “Hundreds.” Amanda nodded. “Thousands.” Certain she’d captured the little girl’s attention, she closed the passenger door and climbed behind the wheel. “My saddle sparkled, too, and it was—” she paused long enough to let her voice fill with awe “—pink.”

  “You rode a horse? A real horse?”

  “Mmm-hmm. She was the prettiest little filly you’d ever see. Her name was Biscuit. Can you guess what color she was?”

  “Was she brown?”

  “That’s exactly right. She was a pale brown. Just like a biscuit.”

  While Hailey listened in openmouthed interest, Amanda filled the ride home with stories of her earliest days on the rodeo circuit. By the time they reached Karen’s apartment complex, the little girl had apparently forgotten her missing dad. In fact, she was so enthralled that Amanda had to promise to tell her more about the rodeo the following Sunday.

  On her way home, Amanda wished her own thoughts about Hailey’s dad would fade as quickly as his daughter’s. Unfortunately, ignoring her problems with the frustratingly attractive man wouldn’t make them go away. She couldn’t deny that he stirred her in ways no other man had ever done. Considering her attraction to him, it was no wonder she spent more time tossing and turning than actually sleeping at night.

  But Mitch Goodwin, with his killer smile, his high pressure job and his azure-blue eyes, was exactly the kind of man she’d sworn to avoid. The type who could never put her first in his life. What happened today had only proved her point. She had to stay away from him.

  Tears gathered in her eyes. She dashed them aside with a stern reminder that she’d reached a smart decision, the only right one. When that didn’t help, she made a quick stop at a grocery store, where she filled a cart with chocolate and doughnuts and other heart-soothing essentials. Knowing it wouldn’t drown her sorrows, she hesitated over a bottle of wine before deciding that marinating her troubles for a bit couldn’t hurt.

  The motor home parked beside her house erased all hope of indulging in a few hours of self-pity. Amanda studied the figure sitting in her favorite rocker by the front door. Looking immense in a plaster cast, his foot rested on the rail that ran along the porch.

  Afraid her day had just gone from bad to worse, she lifted a questioning look to her father’s face.

  The man didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

  “Where the hell have you been, baby girl?” he demanded.

  Chapter Eight

  “Dad?” Amanda hurried up the walkway between rows of neatly trimmed hibiscus.

  Paint flakes littered the porch beneath her father’s ankle. From the looks of things, he’d been hanging out in front of her house for quite some time. She scanned the area, looking for beer or soda cans, a bottle of water. Seeing none, she glanced at the decorative thermometer on the wall behind him. The mercury had climbed past eighty-five.

  “You must be dying in this heat.”

  “I’ve spent my whole life in arenas where the temperature never dropped below a hundred,” Tom groused in typical fashion. “Guess I can handle a couple of hours in the shade.”

  Amanda ignored a guilty twinge and stifled the urge to feel sorry for him. How was she supposed to know her dad was in the state? He hadn’t bothered to call. Not since the night of Hailey’s accident. She lowered her purse and the bagful of groceries onto an empty chair.

  “Well, I’m surprised to see you. How’ve you been?”

  “Not so good, in case you hadn’t noticed.” He raised his foot an inch, pointing as if she were blind or oblivious. “I’m sittin’ here with a busted leg, ain’t I?”

  “I see that, Dad.”

  She sucked her tongue between her teeth and bit down. Broken bones notwithstanding, he’d always been too busy for visits with his only child. Which meant he needed something.

  “Hand me them crutches, will ya?”

  She reached for the pair he’d propped against the house, bracing herself for one of her father’s impossible demands. “What happened?”

  “Some fool in Bonifay tossed a firecracker into the ring during the show. You know Brindle never was big on noises. He shied. I fell.”

  Amanda winced. “How’s Brindle?”

  “Mighta’ known you’d be more concerned about the horse than me.” Tom sank back in his chair. “Can’t you see I’m the one sittin’ here all busted up?”

  Amanda took a deep breath and counted to five. This wasn’t the first time her father had gotten hurt during a performance. Apart from the year she’d turned thirteen, when three broken ribs had cost him his last chance at a gold buckle, she could cite at least a dozen trips to emergency rooms in as many towns.

  “I assumed that since you made it this far, you were okay. Is it just the leg? Nothing else? No concussion?” At his age, he was lucky he hadn’t broken his neck.

  “Ain’t that enough, baby girl?”

  “Enough to keep you from riding for a month or two. Is that why there’s a motor home parked in my driveway?”

  Tom ignored her question in favor of one of his own. “Where’ve you been, anyway? I’ve been sittin’ here waiting for you all afternoon.” He eased his leg from the rail with a groan and grunted his way onto the crutches.

  “Guilty as charged.” She hoped the quip would distract him from the heat that crept up her neck and onto her face. Part of the time her dad had been sweltering on the porch, she’d been in Mitch’s arms. A mistake, sure, but she couldn’t afford to give her old man ammunition to use against her.

  She needn’t have worried. Her father never even glanced her way.

  “I wish we had time to sit and talk, gal, but you’d best be gettin’ to packin’. You’ll need to be hittin’ the road early if you’re gonna make Austin by the weekend.”

  Amanda blinked slowly, trying to push back the sense of disaster that had threatened ever since she’d spotted her dad’s vehicle in the drive. Her voice chilled. “What makes you think I’m going anywhere?”

  Tom drew himself as erect as he could, considering the crutch propped under each arm. “I heard you did real good at the Saddle Up. I’m right proud of you.”

  Flattery was not going to get him anywhere. While she’d like to think her dad had reached out to her in a time of crisis, she knew better. He’d landed on her doorstep only because he thought he could use her in some way.

  She stared, waiting him out, certain she was right.

  Tom met her unflinching gaze with one of his own. “You gonna make me beg?” Annoyance laced his slow drawl. “You know I’ve got a full slate of appearances scheduled. I need you to fill in for me till my leg’s healed up. You already know the routine. Besides, you’re family.”

  Amanda’s back went ramrod stiff. There’d been a time when she’d have done practically anything to earn her father’s respect, his love. The barn door had slammed shut on those days.

  Too bad he hadn’t gotten the memo.

  Movement on the sidewalk caught her attention. She waved to a neighbor, Mrs. Carrington, and her dog, Ginger. Airing the sad tale of the Markette family history while the entire block listened in was not on Amanda’s agenda. She retrieved her purse and the bag of groceries, unlocked the front door and held it wide.

  “You want a glass of iced tea, Dad? Come on in and I’ll fix you some. You can drink it while you handle those calls you’ll need to make.”

  Awkwardly maneuvering on one leg and the crutches, Tom thumped across the porch. “What calls are you tal
king about?”

  “The people you’ll contact in order to find a replacement who isn’t me,” she said, when the door was safely closed behind him. “I have a life. A job I love. A place in this community. I’m not giving those things up. Not even for you.”

  Hot on her heels, Tom trifooted it across her living room and into the kitchen, where he slumped into a chair. Her gaze swung to his cast. Surely he hadn’t made the long drive from north Florida with his broken leg propped up on the dashboard.

  “How’d you get here, anyway?”

  Tom shrugged. “Royce and Mavis. They were on their way down to Fort Lauderdale. They’re taking a breather from the circuit and gonna stay with her family for a bit.”

  Amanda squinted. A “breather” was just another way of saying out of work.

  “If I were you, I’d start with them.” The answer seemed so obvious, she wondered why her father hadn’t come up with it himself. She held out one hand, palm up. “Royce doesn’t have any gigs.” She added the second hand. “You have slots to fill. And Royce has been angling for a spot on the Markette team for as long as you’ve known him.” She clapped her hands together. “Sounds like the perfect solution.”

  Angry sparks glinted in Tom’s eyes. “You’re serious? You ain’t gonna help me? I’ve never asked you for nothing, and this is the way you treat me?”

  At his scathing disbelief, Amanda’s old hurts flared. Tom Markette had never had the time or inclination for anyone but himself. She thought of the summer after her mom had died. She’d begged to stay with him. Instead, he’d dumped her in a rodeo camp run by one of his pals and told her to make the most of her summer job as a camp counselor. Things hadn’t improved as she’d gotten older. He hadn’t even shown up the night she’d won a gold buckle in Las Vegas. Standing there, staring out into the crowds and knowing he wasn’t among the thousands of cheering, clapping fans, she’d decided, once and for all, that she was done with trying to win his love.

  She inhaled and let the breath seep out between her lips. This wasn’t about revenge. It was about doing right for herself. She downed a long, steadying swallow from her own glass of tea.

  “Better get in touch with Royce.”

  Her father sat, arms crossed, anger rolling from him in waves. Eyeing him, she realized she couldn’t let him stay with her. Once he brought more than a toothbrush and a change of clothes into her house, she’d never have another moment’s peace.

  “I don’t have a guest room, so you’ll have to make do on the couch tonight. Tomorrow I’ll start looking for a trailer park with hookups, so you’ll have water and electricity.”

  There were several not too far away. Though she’d never forgive him, she couldn’t abandon him completely. She’d shop for him, drop off groceries and supplies, whatever he needed, as long as he didn’t try to ruin her life.

  “I should have known it’d be like this,” Tom sputtered. “You’re a hardhearted, ungrateful girl, Mandy Markette. You know that?”

  “Amanda,” she corrected. “My name is Amanda. And if you want my help, you’d better remember it.”

  Tom shoved the chair next to him. His crutches clattered to the floor.

  “What am I supposed to do about the horses? I can’t exactly care for them while I’m laid up. Or did you stop to think about them?”

  There hadn’t been a horse trailer in her driveway. She looked through the window where a motor home blocked her view of the house next door.

  “Where are Brindle and Daisy?”

  “They’re out at Boots and Spurs. I paid for them to stay overnight, since you don’t have a backyard to speak of.”

  The way her father pronounced judgment on her half-acre of smoothly mowed grass elicited a chuckle, but her laughter faded as she considered her neighbors. What would they say if they spied two horses in her backyard? No matter. She’d enjoyed her weekend mornings at Boots and Spurs. Taking care of Brindle and Daisy would fit right into her plans to do more riding. And who knew? Maybe Hailey Goodwin would enjoy spending a Sunday afternoon at the stables. The little girl had certainly brightened at the mention of spangles and horses.

  But when thinking of Hailey led to thoughts of Mitch, Amanda spun away, using the need to prepare a bed for her dad as an excuse to leave the room. As she went about gathering sheets and linens for a one-night stay, she had to admit that Mitch, unlike her own father, made the most of the little time he did spend with his daughter.

  Minutes later, she shook out the top sheet, letting it billow before it settled down over the cushions on the couch. Back in the day, when she’d been performing with her dad or going for the next win on the rodeo circuit, she’d learned that timing was everything. A tenth of a second here, another one there, and the entire routine could fall apart. Though Amanda had sworn to avoid Mitch and his mind-boggling kisses from now on, Karen’s plans to relocate complicated the tense situation between them. Already on edge, Amanda felt sure her dad couldn’t have picked a worse time to show up on her doorstep.

  * * *

  MITCH SETTLED THE CARDBOARD TRAY holding his coffee and the soda Amanda preferred on the stoop outside her office. His stomach grumbled at the smells of yeast and chocolate, apple and a hint of spice that wafted from the bulging bag he wedged between their drinks. Though he’d asked the woman behind the counter of the doughnut shop for one of everything, he refused to help himself to so much as a nibble. The young girl he’d once loved had devoured sticky, sweet cinnamon buns like there was no tomorrow, but he had no idea what she ate for breakfast these days. The last thing he wanted was to pull a doughnut from the bag, only to discover he’d eaten Amanda’s favorite. That certainly wouldn’t bode well for the thanks he owed her for watching Hailey last night.

  He surveyed the immediate area, checking to make sure an army of ants hadn’t caught the scent and lined up on the sidewalk, prepared to march in his direction. Not a single six-legged creature crawled within biting distance. Loosening his tie, he brushed off a place for himself.

  A different kind of hunger stirred when, at a few minutes before nine, Amanda stepped from her SUV and made her way to the stairs. The day’s light breeze fluttered the neckline of her camisole, showing a hint of perfect cleavage beneath an unbuttoned jacket. A suit skirt clung so tightly to her shapely legs that the fabric outlined her trim thighs with every step. One glimpse of the open-toed shoes cupping her slim feet and he swallowed, envisioning what might follow if he gave her a foot massage.

  A trickle of sweat threatened to escape his hairline. He wiped it away, not giving it a chance to run down his cheek before he waved a greeting. His eyes narrowed at the tight-lipped scowl Amanda sent him in return.

  Not the welcome expression he’d been expecting. Straightening his shoulders, he stared at the loose curls that had escaped a smooth updo to soften the harsh lines of Amanda’s frown. His mouth went dry. So much depended on her cooperation, if not her actual help. Yet all he wanted was to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He pushed aside his own desires with a reminder that he was here for Hailey. And when Amanda neared, he found his voice.

  “I come in peace,” he said. Liquid sloshed as he lifted the tray.

  “Busy night?” Amanda’s pace didn’t slow. She brushed past him, briskly inserting keys in locks and shutting off alarms. Before she could slam the door in his face, he followed her inside.

  “You said you’d be back before I had to take Hailey home.” The snaps on Amanda’s briefcase opened with a volley of tiny explosions. “Hailey wasn’t very happy with you.”

  She wasn’t the only one.

  He could see that now, and wished he’d handled things differently. But, like everything else in his relationship with Amanda, last night had been complicated. Walking back into the house after speaking with Cheryl’s nephews, Mitch had been eager to share his news with the one person who would understand its importance. A sinkhole had opened in his chest when he’d realized she was gone.

  When he thought about
it, that was the minute he’d known how much she meant to him. He’d counted on her to be there. He looked forward to their time together on Sunday afternoons almost as much as he did the time he spent with Hailey. This morning, he hadn’t been able to stand the thought of waiting a week to see Amanda again. His good news gave him the perfect excuse.

  If she’d even speak to him…

  The way she stared at him, he had his doubts.

  “I’m sorry,” Mitch said simply. “I hope you’ll understand once I explain.”

  “What? That your work is more important than Hailey?” She waited a beat. “Or me?”

  She was wrong if she thought he’d willingly walk out on his daughter for something so mundane as his job. Now was his chance to prove it. He took a deep breath and forged ahead.

  “The phone call was from a neighbor. It was about the witnesses to Hailey’s fall.”

  Amanda lost interest in the papers she’d been shifting from her briefcase to her desk. Hope and worry poured into the glance she focused on him. “Not your office? Not the district attorney?”

  Knowing he should have anticipated her reaction, Mitch mentally gave himself a swift kick in the pants. How many hot summer nights had he held Amanda in his arms while she cried because, once again, her father had chosen his career over her? Too many to count, for sure. His own parents had planned a family vacation around the end of summer camp, staying for the mini rodeo and closing ceremonies even though he was a counselor and one of the oldest in attendance. Not Amanda’s dad. He hadn’t even cared enough to show up. Instead, he’d sent her a bus ticket.

  Mitch cringed, thinking how badly that must have hurt her. But he wasn’t like her father. He hurried to correct the misconception.