Win Me Over

by Heather Slade

  Piper promised they’d have complete privacy afterwards. The spa staff was gone for the day, and the ranch employees weren’t allowed to use the spa if guests were in residence.

  “Here,” she said, handing Tristan a key. “It locks from the inside too,” she winked.

  Bullet closed his eyes and did the final set on the glute machine. Imagining Tristan naked and waiting for him in the hot tub was all the incentive he needed to keep going. Rather than feeling tired, each set he finished only energized him. One step closer to his goal. And tonight, his goal was Tristan.

  He’d done as she’d told him and listened to every word Buck said. At the end of the day, he was rewarded with “great work today,” and a pat on the back from the cowboy.

  As tempting as it was to let the shower’s hot water beat down on his sore shoulders, something, someone more tempting was waiting on him. He scrubbed away the sweat and grime from his day’s work as quickly as he could, wrapped a towel around his waist, and walked through the locker room door that led to the hot tub.

  The sight before him made him stop short. Tristan had placed lit candles all around the water’s perimeter. The table behind her was laden with food, glasses filled with wine, and more candles. But that feast had nothing on the one that waited near the in-ground spa.

  Tristan was seated on the edge, leaning back and propped on her elbows. Only her toes touched the water. Otherwise, his eyes rested on nothing but her skin and the curves of her body.

  Bullet entered the spa from the opposite side and sunk into the water. He reached out and grasped her ankles, pulling her to him until her naked body straddled his lap. The chill of the air outside of the warm water made her nipples pucker tight. Holding her still, he bent to lick first one, and then the other. He went back to the first and closed his mouth around her.

  1968

  Dottie was perched on the fence rail when Bill got out of the truck. Her long, blonde hair waved in the wind, and her smile dimmed the sun.

  “Who’s that?” asked his sister, who rode with him while Clancy and his mama followed in the car that had belonged to Mr. Snyder. Bill hadn’t wanted them to drive it here, but there wasn’t any other choice. The four of them wouldn’t fit in the truck, and Bill was insistent he ride down with Clancy rather than wait until they returned, to talk to his mama.

  “That’s Dottie,” Bill answered, unused to having someone around who asked so many questions. The entire ride from Colorado Springs had been an endless Q&A. At first he wanted to tell her that his life was none of her business, as he would’ve told anyone else, but his determination to be a better son and brother made him answer her questions as honestly as he could.

  He wasn’t sure what else to tell about Dottie. Bill didn’t know how to define their relationship. She was a friend, but so much more than that. However, after he told her he wouldn’t be attending Western State in the fall as planned, he doubted they’d continue to be more than friends, if that.

  “She’s your girlfriend,” his sister stated.

  “I guess.” Bill’s shoulders tensed up, and he dreaded the conversation he’d soon be having with Dottie.

  It was three hours before they could excuse themselves and go for a walk. Every minute had been torture for Bill. Each smile she bestowed on him when she took his hand in hers, even when she’d hugged him hello, worsened his guilt-laden dread.

  “You seem preoccupied.” The trail had narrowed, and they had to walk single-file along this section, so he couldn’t see the look on her face.

  “I am.” No sense in beating around the bush; he might as well get it over with. “I’m not going to Western State.”

  He’d hoped she’d keep walking, so he didn’t have to face her, but she didn’t. She stopped, turned around, and put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean you’re not going?”

  Bill could see the clearing a few paces ahead. He suggested they continue walking and he’d explain further when they could sit down and talk face-to-face. Dottie, in her usual way, walked to the clearing with a smile on her face, and sat down on the warm grass. “Explain yourself, Bill Flynn.”

  Bill wished she’d stop smiling at him. Couldn’t she sense his agony? What if she cried when he told her his reasons? He’d only seen her cry one time, when the calf died, during the tie-down roping event in Gunnison. And that hadn’t been up close.

  “Bill,” she said softly. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”

  He wasn’t sure how far back to go, so he began the night he met Mr. Snyder. When he told her how uneasy he’d felt about the man, the smile left her face. When he told her how many times Clancy had driven to Colorado Springs to help his mama, she grimaced. And then, when he told her about Clancy asking his mama to marry him, her smile lit up her face once again.

  “I need to help out,” he explained. “And that means living in Black Forest, just outside of Colorado Springs. That’s where the ranch is.”

  “What about college?”

  He told her he still planned to go; he might get a later start than he’d hoped, but Clancy assured him he’d help him get into the state college.

  “So, I guess you’ve waited all this while for nothin’.” He couldn’t look at her when he said it. He braced himself for the break-up he felt sure was coming.

  “The last thing you are, Bill Flynn, is ‘nothin’. But you’re right, I’m done waiting.”

  “I understand.” Bill’s voice shook in a way he couldn’t control. He only hoped he could keep the rest of the emotions he was feeling at bay, and not embarrass himself too much.

  “I don’t think you do.”

  “We’re breakin’ up. I get it. And honestly, Dottie, I do understand. I’m just sorry you’ve wasted—”

  “If you’re about to say I’ve wasted my time, I’ll stop you right there. I’m in love with you, and the last thing we’re doing is breaking up.”

  Bill raised his eyes and looked into her smiling ones. He had no idea what she was thinking, but if it meant she was still his girl, he couldn’t wait to hear about it.

  15

  Their week was coming to an end. Tomorrow they’d leave the ranch and go back to their respective lives. Her time had been more productive than she could’ve dreamed. She was leaving with twice as many designs for Lost Cowboy and her new venture than she’d initially anticipated.

  She also felt ready to discuss her ideas with her father. Deep down she knew he’d support whatever she wanted to do. Being in Colorado gave her time to think it through and realize it was ridiculous believing otherwise.

  Each day, Bullet became a better bull rider. Without the distraction of everyday life, his focus was intense. Buck was an intuitive trainer and managed to pick up on Bullet’s areas of weakness, and get him to work straight through them. Depending on how much time Flying R gave him to compete, it was conceivable that he could earn enough to make regional finals this year. Buck believed he could go further than that.

  Neither talked about when they’d see each other after they left the ranch. The rodeo season would be fully underway inside of a month, and they’d both be busy traveling the circuit. And when they weren’t, they each had a lot of work to do. He, with Flying R, and her, with Lost Cowboy and her new venture.

  Tristan rested her eyes on his now sleeping form. They’d worn each other out, making love every chance they got. It was as though they could never get enough of each other’s bodies. When they came together after spending their days apart, their need for each other was frantic.

  It was more than that for her, though. Bullet had intrigued her from the moment she’d met him in Liv and Ben’s hot tub. On one hand, he was the epitome of a bull rider—arrogant, cock-sure of himself, and an experienced handler of ladies. Tristan wondered now, how much of that was for show.

  Conversely, he’d treated her with respect. He cared as much about what she’d done with her day as he did about his. He asked to see her designs and talked to her about them. He’d tell her about
his time with Buck, but never once monopolized their conversations.

  He was nothing like Harris Jones. Nothing at all. The way Harris treated her was intentional—premeditated even. He’d falsely declared his love for her all the while knowing that, tomorrow, he’d be in someone else’s bed, likely making the same declaration. Bullet gave her no empty promises, no professions of love, and she was glad he hadn’t. It would’ve been difficult for her to believe that he could fall in love with her after only a week, even though she knew she’d fallen in love with him.

  Tristan was sitting up in bed, her back to him. If he had the ability to read her mind, he wouldn’t allow himself to. Bullet knew what she was thinking, and it made him mad. Furious, in fact. But not at her, at himself. She hadn’t said one word about seeing him again once their week was over. Nothing at all.

  He’d stupidly believed he was winning her over, but instead, he felt like a nick in her bedpost. The irony would make him laugh if his gut wasn’t burning.

  How many women had he done this to? Sure he’d tell them they’d see each other again real soon. Meanwhile, he’d already forgotten their name. A week with any one woman would’ve been unheard of, except for Callie. He’d spent more than a week with her, but even then, it wasn’t just her he was with. He’d never thought he’d be able to commit himself to only one woman. Until now.

  Tristan didn’t come right out and say it, but he sensed she was biding her time. Once he delivered her to the airport and she was safely on the plane, she’d breathe a sigh of relief that she’d dodged him. This time he was the bullet, not her.

  The question now was how would their final day together play out? When he leaned over and trailed kisses down her spine, he was rewarded with a heated smile that told him she wanted to spend their last few hours at the ranch in the same way he did.

  He should be the happiest man on earth. He was riding better than ever, and Buck Bishop told him he’d called Bill Patterson and said Bullet worked harder than any other rider he’d trained. He went on to tell him how proud Flying R Rough Stock should be to sponsor him, and his prediction that he’d be their top rider this year.

  Instead of walking on air, he was downright miserable. Tristan had been at breakfast when Buck came in to report on the phone call. She was happy for him, smiling from ear to ear, congratulating him, even gave him a big hug and kiss.

  But the two things he wanted to hear her say, she never said. Despite telling him how happy she was for him, there was no mention of either a Lost Cowboy sponsorship, or any talk of when they’d see each other again.

  He thought about bringing one or both up on the way to the airport, but he stopped himself. He already felt like a fool, no need to make himself look more pathetic.

  He walked her to the jetway, and waited, holding his breath, wishing she’d say something, anything, about when they’d see each other again, but she didn’t.

  His mood only worsened after her plane took off. When a fella decided to tailgate him on the highway, Bullet slammed on the brakes and sent a slew of curse words in the driver’s direction that would make a hard-core rocker blush. When he stopped to fill his gas tank and get a snack, the flirty cashier only annoyed him. Instead of wishing her a nice day too, he snarled, grunted, and walked back to his truck.

  His attitude sucked, and he knew it. He spent the rest of the drive, reining himself in so he didn’t insult the people who had worked so hard to help make his dream come true.

  Sure, Tristan McCullough had broken his heart, but no one needed to know that.

  As much as she tried not to, Tristan missed Bullet. She’d been home several days, and no matter how hard she worked, she couldn’t fend off the distraction that came when her mind drifted to something he’d said, or they’d done.

  Bullet had an unexpected way of looking at life. He often surprised her with his views on a variety of subjects. Sometimes he’d play dumb, but if she pushed the conversation, his acumen would show through.

  He’d been the first to predict her father already knew what she was up to, in developing a new clothing line, and he’d been right. Her grandfather told her that his son had been sneaking peeks at her designs for weeks. When she confronted him about it, he scowled, and wouldn’t own up to his espionage.

  Her weekly, sometimes daily, phone calls with Liv resumed when she returned from the ranch. While she would admit the role she’d played in suggesting Tristan’s father send her there for some much-needed time off, she insisted she had no idea Bullet Simmons was going to be there at the same time.

  Liv pressed her on when she’d be back in Crested Butte, and how plans were coming for the new line. Tristan told Liv her father would be happy to support her new venture with seed money, but he thought it best if she developed the brand separate from Lost Cowboy, which led Liv to suggest a meeting of potential investors.

  “You could hold an informational meeting in Black Forest and invite the women I already know are interested in investing. Depending on what you’re looking for, we could open it outside of our Flying R circle as well.”

  Tristan’s gut clenched. If she showed up in Black Forest, Bullet would believe for certain that she’d arranged the meeting with the ulterior motive of seeing him. She couldn’t do that to him, or to herself. It would be mortifying if he ignored her in front of everyone.

  “I think Crested Butte would work better.”

  Liv held firm, saying the reason she’d suggested Black Forest was because most of the key players lived there or close by. “It will be easier on everyone if we meet there. I’ll have to travel, and so will you, but everyone else is based there.”

  With no choice but to relent, Tristan began planning the first investors’ meeting for the new clothing brand: McCullough Cowgirl. The name was a hit with everyone she told, almost all of whom suggested the line would soon grow to include McCullough Home, McCullough Cowboy, even McCullough Kids.

  She’d been tempted several times to call Bullet, or text him, to alert him she’d be in town, but since she hadn’t heard from him, she figured he wouldn’t care one way or the other.

  Obviously, Bullet had forgotten all about her. Out of sight, out of mind. Too bad that wasn’t working for her.

  “What the hell do you mean she’ll be in Black Forest tomorrow? How long have you known this, Lyric?”

  “There isn’t any reason to yell at me, Bullet. I got the call from Liv day before yesterday. How was I supposed to know Tristan didn’t tell you?”

  And here he was, in Montana. He wasn’t due to leave for Black Forest until Tuesday. Today was Friday. Tristan would be long gone by the time he got home.

  He was so angry, he felt like putting his fist through something. Too bad the only thing close was the side of the trailer. The last thing he needed was to break the bones in his hand, and the way he was feeling, that was how hard he’d hit it.

  “Steam’s comin’ outta your nose and ears, Bullet.”

  Billy Patterson was the last person Bullet wanted to have a conversation with right now.

  “What’s got ya all fussed?”

  “Nothin’.” Bullet walked away, but Billy followed.

  “Renie told me there’s a big meeting goin’ on at Patterson Ranch tomorrow. Somethin’ about a new business she wants to invest in. You know anything about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “I heard Tristan McCullough has somethin’ to do with it. That ring any bells?”

  It was looking more and more like Bullet was going to punch something, and if Billy didn’t back off, it would be someone instead.

  “I said no. I meant no. Now leave me the hell alone, Billy.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll call Renie back and tell her to expect me home tonight. And here, Jace and I were gonna offer to drive this load of broncs to Black Forest so you could be the one to leave early.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “But if you don’t know anythin’ about it, and don’t care to know, then I guess ol’ Jace and I will get
to see our wives a few days earlier than planned. Okay by me.”

  “Shit.” Bullet couldn’t hold back any longer. At least now, the closest thing for him to hit was the side of the barn. It still hurt like hell, but he doubted he’d done any real damage to his hand.

  “What the hell was that all about?”

  Bullet wanted to wipe the shit-eating grin off Billy’s face. He knew damn well what it was about. It was why he’d spent the last five minutes giving him grief.

  “She doesn’t want to see me,” Bullet muttered.

  “What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.”

  “Fuck off, Billy. You heard me.”

  Jace was sitting on the fence near the barn, chewing on a piece of straw. “I don’t know about that. Bree told me she overheard Tristan ask whether you were around.”

  “You two tag-teamin’ me now?”

  Billy put his hand on Bullet’s shoulder and squeezed. “We’re old and married, son. And both our wives are pregnant. We gotta live vicariously through someone.”

  “I’m married, but I’m not old, Patterson. You’re the old one in this crew. And Bree isn’t anywhere near as pregnant as Renie is. What’s she goin’ on, month fifteen?”

  Billy rubbed his hand over his face. “Sure as hell feels like it. They’re sayin’ she’s at thirty-six weeks.”

  Bullet felt for the guy. He remembered when Callie was in the last month of pregnancy with Grey. She was miserable. He doubted Renie was the same way though. She didn’t seem like the miserable sort.

  “Your time’s comin’, asshole,” Billy glared at Jace.

  “That why you’re offerin’ to let me be the one to go back early? You don’t wanna be around your pregnant wives?”

  He didn’t doubt Billy knew exactly how far he was getting under Bullet’s skin about Tristan, but he knew how to push back. If anyone said a single thing about Renie that could be construed in a negative way, Billy went near ape-shit. Bullet smiled at him and winked.