She had to feel something for a man with her heart before she gave him her body.
That was about the only thing she learned from the communes she’d grown up in. They weren’t the “free sex” type, thank goodness, and they stressed family life and commitment to one spouse. They even stressed marriage in some form, either a formal ceremony in the church or just a gathering outdoors with the other members of the commune.
Marriage. Carol couldn’t wait to get married, and she was lucky that she’d found Rick in college. They were made for each other. They’d gotten married at St. Margaret’s Church in Palm Springs to appease Rick’s parents and then got married again at the commune’s flower garden to appease hers.
The reception at the Lakeshore Yacht and Country Club couldn’t have been more exquisite, including a chamber orchestra and a six-course dinner.
The party at the commune had been a picnic on blankets with someone strumming the guitar and a lot of women drumming.
Okay, okay, Lisa had to admit that she liked to drum.
She sighed. She couldn’t picture herself getting married like her sister. She couldn’t imagine wanting to be with someone for the rest of her life. She was too picky¸ too fussy, too compulsive.
And she was too scared to share her life, her thoughts, her soul with anyone.
“I’m going to take this over to the lunch,” Sully said. His hands were covered in oven gloves in the shape of bulls, complete with ears, and he held his crock of chili at waist level. “I’ll grab a plate, then come back and eat here so I can listen for Rose. Then you can go and eat.”
Lisa nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” She held the door open for Sully. The red wagon heaped with clothes caught her eye. In the Tiffany confusion, she’d forgotten to put the clothes away.
She walked down the steps and reached for a stack.
Sully put the chili down. “I’ll hand them to you.”
“No. Go. You have to eat and get to the arena. I can take care of the clothes. Oh, and I can take care of letting Molly out to do her business. And cleaning Snowball’s litter pan.”
“Lisa Phillips, you are a good egg.”
Off he went, whistling.
“Oh yeah, I’m a good egg,” she mumbled sarcastically.
She stood there in front of the wagon watching him go. He had a spring in his step, and he could really work a pair of jeans.
He looked every bit the cowboy: hat, boots, long-sleeved, Western-cut shirt, clean shaven and a shiny belt buckle the size of Montana.
Lisa didn’t know why she was ogling him as he walked toward the food tent. She supposed that she liked the way he walked or the way his boots sounded on the asphalt. Maybe both.
Just then he turned and looked at her. Grinning, he winked.
Oh, no! Busted!
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Why did that always happen? She quickly picked up more clothes from the red wagon. Maybe he’d think that she was just looking at something else if she didn’t respond.
She didn’t want Sully to think that she was the slightest bit interested in him.
But she was.
Maybe interested wasn’t the right word. Bewildered, confused, perplexed—that was what she’d been feeling about Sully ever since he’d held her hand in Carol’s garden.
Could she have been misjudging him all these years? He hadn’t been with Tiffany as she’d assumed, and she liked the way he’d kicked her out. His thoughts were about Rose, and she liked that. Maybe he wasn’t the womanizing cowboy that she’d thought.
No. He probably still was the same womanizing cowboy, but at least he was thinking about Rose now. That was the only difference.
Lisa wasn’t going to cut him any slack. She had formed an opinion of him based on her interaction with him over the years, and it would take a lot of change on Sully’s part to revise her opinion of him.
She put away the laundry, tiptoeing into the bedroom to access the drawers and closet space. Rose was still sleeping soundly. Good. They had a big night planned. Rose couldn’t wait to see her uncle ride a big bull in person.
Sully returned to the RV just as Lisa sat down at the dinette with a can of iced tea and the mug of chili he’d left her.
It was still warm, and it was delicious. She’d have to get Sully to show her how to make it step-by-step.
Sully slid two heaped paper plates onto the dinette table. “I thought I’d save you a trip to the buffet in this heat. Hope you like what I picked out for you.”
Lisa looked at the ham and cheese sandwich, the potato salad, the fried chicken and the plastic cup with what looked like chocolate pudding. Maybe she’d put the sandwich in a bag and save it for later.
“Everything is perfectly fine, Sully. Thanks. And your chili is delicious.”
He nodded. “Several of the ladies said that they are looking forward to seeing you again. They wondered if you were sick. I told them that you were under the weather.”
“That was presumptuous of you, Sully. I’m not under the weather. I just did laundry and then walked with my little red wagon in this heat and—” She waved her hand. No sense rehashing the whole miscommunication. “I’m just...tired.”
“I hear you and raise you.”
Now she noticed the bags under his eyes and the stoop to his shoulders. After driving all night, finding the pump station, making chili and dealing with Tiffany, he must be exhausted.
He’d only had about a couple of hours of sleep, and that wasn’t enough to be in top-notch shape.
Lisa checked her watch. In a few hours, he had to ride a two-thousand-pound bucking bull for eight seconds (hopefully), get off, get his bearings and then run to safety before the wild animal charged at him.
Just another day in Brett Sullivan’s world.
No. It was her world, too, now.
And Rose’s.
* * *
Sully smiled and waved to the bunch of giggling buckle bunnies—including Tiffany—who were gathered near the contestant’s entrance at the arena. He noticed that Tiffany had set her sights on T. J. Gibbs, one of the up-and-coming young guns. T.J. was autographing her midriff, but Tiffany’s eyes were already looking around for a bigger star.
Sully settled his gear bag higher onto his shoulder and took the elevator down to the sub-basement. When the big silver doors opened, the pungent smell of earth and bull manure assailed his senses.
Waving to his fellow riders, he checked the day sheet for his first ride: Cowabunga, one of the rankest bulls bucking these days and a contender for Bull of the Year. Swearing under his breath, he knew that he had to be at the top of his game to go eight seconds on him.
But he wasn’t at the top of his game. He was tired and unprepared.
Normally, he’d hit a friend’s ranch and ride some practice bulls, analyze his previous rides for improvement and study the rides of the top guns. He’d hit the gym, then hit the track to do some sprints and his customized sequences of yoga stretches.
He’d done nothing.
He didn’t even get a good night’s sleep.
That was his fault. He was the one who decided to pull an all-nighter. He really should have taken Lisa up on her offer to drive, but he’d rather that she care for Rose’s needs.
Maybe if his little niece was a Russ or a Ross, he could handle things better, but then she wouldn’t be his little niece.
Sully liked to take a walk around the arena before the event got started. He like to watch the arena commentators getting ready, the dirt being raked, the eight-second clock being checked for accuracy. He gave a wave to the day sheet salesman, tipped his hat to the fan club volunteers who’d be selling memberships and merchandise later and had a conversation with the stock contractor of Cowabunga, his first draw.
And he watched the fans file i
n and take their seats.
Needing to see Lisa and Rose, he walked back to the bucking chutes and climbed up the metal stairs behind them.
They weren’t in their seats yet.
Looking up, he checked the arena clock. There was a lot of time left, so he really was surprised not to see them seated yet. He leaned against the metal railing, visualizing his ride. The stock contractor said that Cowabunga would go left, so Sully figured that he’d go right.
Never can trust those stock contractors.
Sully figured that he had chewed up about fifteen minutes, but when he checked the clock again, only five minutes had passed. He felt like Lisa, who always checked her watch.
He felt jittery, unsettled. He couldn’t wait until it was time for him to ride, but until then, he’d better get ready.
He took one last look at the section where friends and family would sit.
Damn. The biggest player in the history of bull riding, Chase Gatlin, was helping Lisa and Rose to their seats. Chase had a grin as big as Texas, and no doubt the cowboy was heaping on the charisma.
He had his hand on the small of Lisa’s back, and—hey!—he just picked up Rose! Rose took his hat off and put it on her own head. She was giggling and Chase was tickling her.
Sully found himself grinding his teeth. What the hell was Chase doing? What was Lisa doing with him?
Lisa was too smart to fall for Chase’s over-the-top drawl and the dropping of every g at the end of every verb phrase. Some women liked that kind of thing, but Lisa would never fall for Chase’s act.
Watching her, you’d never know it.
And what was she wearing?
The Wranglers he’d bought her fit her like a second skin. She wore a light blue long-sleeved shirt, which she’d tucked into the waistband of her jeans. She even sported a big silver belt buckle and a white cowboy hat.
Those were his hat, his shirt, his belt buckle...they were all his!
Sully had to chuckle, thinking what Chase Gatlin would say to the fact that the object of Chase’s lust, for the moment, was wearing Sully’s stuff.
Sully had no intention of spilling Lisa’s secret, even if it wasn’t a secret. As a matter of fact, he liked the idea that she’d wanted to dress Western tonight in the Wranglers that he’d bought her instead of her expensive designer duds.
Maybe there was hope for the Ice Queen yet.
He checked the arena clock again. Time to get ready. Making his way down the chutes and down the stairs, he gave one last look at the family and friends section. He saw Chase making his way out of the stands.
Rose was on Lisa’s lap, and they were looking around. When Lisa spotted him, she smiled and waved, sending a warm feeling through him.
Then Lisa showed Rose where he was standing.
“Uncle Sully!” Rose shouted, rising to her feet. “There’s Uncle Sully.” Her tiny voice echoed through the mostly empty arena as clear as a bell in winter. Several people laughed and clapped.
Sully jogged across the arena, climbed up the fence and the metal barricade that protected the spectators from the bulls, then climbed up the rows that led to Lisa and Rose.
He tipped his hat. “Hello, ladies!”
“Uncle Sully!” Rose held her arms out to be picked up, and he did so. “Be careful of the bulls. They can hurt you.”
Aww...how cute.
“I will, sweetheart. I’ll be careful. You just cheer and clap for me, okay? It’ll bring me luck.”
He turned to Lisa and nodded. “You’re looking good, Lisa. Just like a real cowgirl.”
“A real cowgirl, huh?” She winked. Was she flirting?
He looked her up and down and liked what he saw.
“You sure do.”
He handed Rose back, and the girl settled onto Lisa’s lap again.
“Good luck tonight, Sully.” She held up her day sheet. “Ride Cowabunga for eight. You can do it. He’ll go right in the chutes, then he’ll immediately turn back left.”
He held up a thumb. “Okay. Got it.” He got a kick out of the fact that Lisa watched bull riding on TV. He liked to think that she watched it for him, but he knew better.
He was climbing back down the seats when Lisa shouted.
“Sully?”
He stopped. “Yeah?”
“Please be careful.”
He pushed his hat back with a thumb to make sure he was talking to the correct woman. There was a time that she’d wished him maybe not dead, or maimed or injured, but at least two thousand miles away from her.
She cupped her hands and put them over Rose’s ears. “I don’t want Rose to see anything bad happen to you.”
“Lisa, should that happen, I’d like you to have my personal effects,” he said as solemnly as he could muster.
She pointed to Rose, then put an index finger over her lips. “Shh...Sully!”
“That would be my motor home, my gear bag and the clothes you are wearing.”
“Oh, for... Sully, you... Just go, will you, please?”
He had the urge, a primal urge, to pull Lisa into his arms and lay a big kiss on her lips.
He couldn’t believe that he was thinking of kissing the Ice Queen, Lisa Phillips. He had to be sleep-deprived or just plain crazy. Knowing how negatively his kiss would be received, he turned and hurried to the locker room.
No matter how great she looked tonight or how much he enjoyed teasing her, Lisa Phillips just wasn’t for him.
He couldn’t believe he was even thinking along that line.
“Get your head on straight, cowboy,” he mumbled to himself as he slid his chaps on. “You have a rank bull to ride, an event to win and a three-year-old watching you who thinks that you can rope the moon.”
* * *
Lisa couldn’t wait until that arrogant cowboy Chase Gatlin left her and Rose alone.
Rose liked him enough, but if Chase had called her darlin’ one more time, she was going to scream into her cowboy hat. Make that Sully’s cowboy hat.
She smiled, thinking of how she’d slipped into Sully’s shirt, a crisply pressed, blue-checked snap-up with long sleeves. It had been hanging in the closet of the motor home still in the clear dry cleaning bag.
She loved the belt with the silver conchos on it, but it needed something—a huge buckle. That’s what everyone wore, a buckle the size of a platter. She found just what she needed hanging in the closet—a big belt buckle that said “Pueblo Invitational, Champion.” She borrowed it and put it on her belt.
She smiled when she’d put on the boots that Sully bought her. She loved the green saguaros on the sides, the howling wolf and the full moon. If only her coworkers could see her now! They wouldn’t believe it was her.
She loved how the boots clicked on the floor when she walked and how she almost felt...Western. It was like she was changing her persona for a while.
She had gotten Rose dressed, and then they were ready to go. Rose had been so excited to get there that she jumped and skipped as they walked.
They ran into Chase Gatlin near the will-call window when she went to pick up the tickets Sully had left for them. Lisa recognized Chase from TV and pegged him as a player a long time ago, so she was amused—and flattered—that he was trying to flirt with her.
Chase acted like it was his personal mission to show them their seats and make them comfortable, and Lisa continued to go along with him because he’d made Rose laugh. Besides, he had to leave soon to get ready to ride.
But it was Sully that she had been looking for, and when he had run across the arena dirt and climbed over the barricades to see them...well, she had to admit that made her heart race.
She’d loved when he kidded her about the clothes, and she couldn’t believe that he joked about his will, but no matter, he always made
her laugh.
The national anthem started and they all stood. Then the riders were introduced with a hail of fireworks and smoke, followed by the Cowboy Prayer.
Soon the first rider was bucking off.
And although Rose was fascinated to see the big bulls up close and personal, she couldn’t wait to see Uncle Sully. Sully was the twelfth rider.
And finally, he was up. Rose yelled and waved. Lisa held her breath.
Eight seconds seemed to go on forever. Cowabunga did go right first, just as Lisa predicted. She hoped that Sully was paying attention. Cowabunga did everything but pull a gun on Sully to get the cowboy off his back, but Sully stuck like burdock.
The seconds ticked by.
Finally, the buzzer rang. Sully had done it! He had ridden the rankest bull in the pen.
Now all he had to do was get away.
Sully fell sideways off the bull. Two of the bull fighters tried to divert Cowabunga, but the bull had a different idea.
He wanted Sully.
Cowabunga charged. Three of the bull fighters couldn’t divert the bull and found themselves on the arena dirt.
Sully tried to outrun the animal, but he didn’t have a chance. Cowabunga bent his head and tossed Sully up in the air with his horns.
Sully hit the dirt and the bull stepped around him, after stepping on Sully’s foot twice.
Lisa’s mouth wet dry. “Get the bull out of the arena!” she yelled to the rider with miles of rope in his hand. “Rope him!”
Thank goodness, the bull left the arena and went back through the open gate that led to the bull pens behind the chutes.
“Why doesn’t Uncle Sully get up?” Rose asked.
Lisa was so caught up in worrying about Sully, she hadn’t given a thought to Rose.
What kind of guardian was she?
“Uncle Sully seems to have twisted his ankle or something,” Lisa replied. “He’ll be fine. The doctor is looking at him.”
Rose’s bottom lip quivered, and Lisa hugged the girl to her. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought her, but after watching it on TV, Rose knew exactly what to expect; she just didn’t expect that Uncle Sully would be one of the cowboys who’d get hurt.
Lassoed Into Marriage Page 9
