Rodeo Rebel (Texas Rodeo Barons)

by Donna Alward

  “I can find my way back on my own, thanks.” On impulse she rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “It was good to see you, Pax.”

  “That sounds a lot like goodbye.”

  She smiled at him, a little sadly, as she lowered back down on her heels. “That’s because it is.”

  She turned to leave and managed a few steps before his voice called her back. “Megan?”

  He wasn’t smiling. He was just staring at her, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of her face. If he thought walking away was easy for her, he was so wrong.

  “Good luck today. Give ’em hell.”

  Megan nodded. “I will.”

  * * *

  Pax clicked the End button on his phone and slid it into his back pocket. It was the second time his father had called today, checking on the stock and the standings. Pax knew it wasn’t about a lack of confidence in his abilities. His dad loved the rodeo and he was stuck at home, missing it. Whereas Pax was happy to stay at the ranch and avoid all the travel. He liked his own bed at night and eating decent food, rather than diner or fairground offerings. He liked the open space, the way the sun rose over the grassy fields, the sight of horses grazing in the distance. Sure, maybe he’d been forced into his role on the ranch, but it was one he’d grown to love and even cherish.

  He grabbed a bottle of water from a vendor and then made his way to the stands, picking a seat with a good view of the arena. He was twenty-seven years old and knew he should probably think about settling down. Getting married, having a few kids. Maybe his children—boys or girls—would be interested in taking over the ranch someday, carrying on the family tradition. He wanted those things. The problem was he hadn’t found anyone who fit the bill since he’d broken it off with Megan. Anytime he pictured such a scenario, it was always her face he saw.

  Now here she was, at the same rodeo, looking just as beautiful as ever, with the attraction still humming between them. She was right. He’d made a choice for her without asking what she wanted. She’d dealt with that and built herself a great life. Who was he to walk in five years later and turn that upside down? He certainly had no right to ask her to make any changes. When he’d said as much, she hadn’t argued the point.

  This time she’d been the one to say goodbye, with that stupidly platonic kiss on the cheek. He supposed he deserved it. Still, he was glad he’d finally told her the truth.

  The events of the afternoon started and Pax waited, somewhat impatiently, for the barrel racing finals. It was third on the ticket, just before team roping and after bareback, and he leaned forward in his seat as the event started.

  His heart gave a little jolt as the third rider appeared. He knew even before the announcer spoke that it was Megan, her hot pink shirt bright in the sunlight as she sat astride Samson, his sorrel hide gleaming in the sun. Pax rode along with her as she circled the barrels, low over Samson’s neck, urging him around the tight corners, spurring him on during the stretches, sprinting across the line and then raising her hat in a salutary wave. It was a good ride, and he clapped loudly as the time appeared on the board. Good but not good enough for first, and there were five more riders. He hoped she could stay in the top three.

  She ended up in fourth—the same standing she’d had going into the final. She wouldn’t be happy with that, but he knew right now she was taking care of Samson and then mentally preparing herself for the bull riding finals. That was the last event of the day, with both saddle broncs and steer wrestling still to come before the big finish.

  As the event drew near, Pax’s knee started to bounce. He’d heard what she’d said about women in the sport. Hell, he was even inclined to agree. Theoretically. But it was different knowing that Megan, all five-foot-seven of her, was going to be sitting on top of a couple thousand pounds of angry bull with a penchant for bucking. He knew, because he bred them that way. Their job was to unseat their rider as quickly as possible. As a breeder of bucking stock, Pax often rooted for the animal over the cowboy. Today he cheered for neither—he just wanted her to come out of it unhurt and in one piece.

  By the time the bull riding started, Pax was a nervous wreck. Jacob Baron surprised everyone by only making it three and a half seconds before he was sent flying. Daniel took over first, then a twenty-something cowboy from New Mexico. There were only two riders left, Jet Baron and Megan. Just when Pax was sure his nerves were about to snap, he saw her at the chute, on top of the bars, waiting for the go-ahead. The pink shirt was covered by a vest and her hair covered by a helmet, but he saw her take the rope and saw the nod of her head in the second before the door to the chute opened and the bull charged out, bucking and twisting.

  And did she ever ride. Cheers went up from the crowd as she held form, spurring the bull on, her body rocking with the bucking movements like poetry in motion. Three seconds. Four. The bull changed direction and she kept her seat, her left hand high in the air. Five seconds. Six. She was going to do it...

  Until the body roll threw her off balance, and an immediate kick pushed her too far forward, her head bouncing sharply off the animal’s neck. Seven seconds. Another kick and she tumbled off, not a clean launch but a messy, rolling motion that made Pax’s heart stop, wondering if she’d caught a hoof on the way down. The bullfighter rushed forward, distracting the animal and enticing him away and out of the arena, but Pax’s horrified gaze was fixed on Megan, lying motionless in the dirt.

  The crowd went utterly silent.

  Chapter Six

  The moment the medical team rushed onto the field was the moment Pax left the stands at a run. His heart was pounding so fiercely he could hear it in his ears, and he made his way to the arena exit before they had even brought her off the field. She still wasn’t moving, and when he looked up at Jet, who was still left to ride, he saw the man’s face had gone startlingly white.

  She was okay. She had to be okay. Any other alternative was unthinkable.

  Carly Baron rushed up to him, having run from her seat as well. “Paxton? Any word?”

  He turned his head, feeling as if the movement was in slow motion. “No. I don’t know...she’s not moving.” His voice sounded as though it was coming from far away. He couldn’t remember ever being so frightened in all his life, not even that September morning when he’d had to call the ambulance for his dad. The fear stripped away all the complications and left him with one indisputable fact. He’d never, ever stopped loving her. Now she might be taken away from him for good. Oh, God. What a fool he’d been.

  There were some murmurings and Pax stretched to see what was happening. His first glimpse was Megan strapped to a backboard, completely immobilized, unconscious. There was blood smeared on her face.

  His knees went watery as a path was cleared and the board was placed on a stretcher and then rolled to a waiting ambulance. He followed, pushing through bodies, anxious for any word. A glimpse of her, willing her to open her eyes and look at him. To say anything.

  He didn’t quite understand the words the medics were tossing around; they seemed to jumble up into a mishmash of medical terms that made no sense. Before he could get close enough to ask to ride with her, the doors were slammed shut and the ambulance pulled away—using both lights and sirens.

  As if every moment was crucial.

  He jumped when a hand squeezed his arm.

  “Are you okay, Pax?” It was Carly again.

  He stared at her dumbly. All he could see was Megan’s limp body half-rolling, half-thrown from the back of the bull and the stillness of her body as it lay on the ground. It was a sight he wouldn’t forget for the rest of his life.

  “Pax.” More forceful now, Carly took his arms and gave him a shake.

  He blinked. Looked into her worried eyes. Snapped himself into the present. And cursed. Thoroughly.

  Carly smiled, looking relieved. “That’s better. Are you oka
y to drive? You should go, be with her so she’s not alone. If you don’t feel up to it, I can take you.”

  There had been a lot of emotion to sort through this weekend, but in that moment there was only one thing Pax knew for sure. Megan needed him, and he was going to be there. “I’m okay. You stay. Jet still has to ride.”

  And a difficult ride it would be, following an accident like that one. Pax didn’t envy him.

  “Are you sure? The last thing Megan needs is you hurt because you were distracted.”

  Pax looked at Carly more closely. “What do you mean by that?”

  Carly frowned, making wrinkles appear above her nose. “Look, I don’t know what your history is, but after the way she reacted to seeing you yesterday, and the scene in the bar last night? People don’t act that way unless there’s a lot of emotion involved. It’s pretty obvious you love each other. So go. Everything else will wait.”

  Carly was right. The only thing that mattered right now was that he get to the hospital. With a wan smile of gratitude, he waved farewell and took off at a jog to where he’d parked his truck.

  “Hang on,” he muttered, throwing his pickup into gear and heading for the exit. “I’m coming, Megs. I’m coming.”

  * * *

  The light hurt her eyes. She squinted as she lifted her lids, unsure of her surroundings. Her throat was dry, and she coughed a little. When she did, pain shot through her head, making her gasp.

  “Megan!”

  Her name sounded so loud in the stillness that she cringed.

  “Megs. Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

  She blinked again, cautiously moving her head, trying to pry open her eyes.

  And there was Pax, standing beside her bed, clasping her hand in his, looking like a kid at Christmas.

  “What are you so happy about?”

  To her shock, he laughed a little, and then hiccupped, and she saw a sheen of moisture in his eyes before he swiped a hand across his face. Was he crying? What the hell? Feeling slightly panicked, Megan wiggled her fingers and toes. Okay. Thank God, everything was still working.

  “You’re awake. That makes me pretty damn happy.”

  “I have a bitch of a headache. Shhh. And can you turn down the lights?”

  His smile disappeared and he sat gingerly on the side of her bed. “Honey,” he said softly, “the lights are off and the blinds are closed. It’ll get better, though. The main thing is you’re here and awake and complaining, which is the most beautiful sound in the world.”

  She’d clearly scared him, and in turn, that was scaring her. “What happened to me? Where am I?”

  “You’re in the hospital. You were knocked out cold in the finals. From where I was sitting, it looked like you hit your head on the bull’s neck. Then you hit it again when you landed—we think maybe you caught a hoof. I’ve never been so glad to see someone wear a helmet in my whole life. It saved you.”

  She remembered getting on the bull, remembered the chute opening, but after that, there was nothing.

  “And that was...”

  “Yesterday,” he finished.

  She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “What time is it?”

  He held her hand tightly, as if he didn’t want to let it go. “Just after six p.m. Your parents just went to get some dinner, and I should ring the nurse and let her know you’re really awake this time.”

  It was all so confusing. Her parents? Really awake? Had she been awake before and not realized it?

  He rang the buzzer for the nurse and let her know that Megan was awake and alert.

  “Is there any water?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I don’t know how cold it is, but here.” He reached for a plastic cup with a bendy straw and held it for her as she drank. Even at room temperature, it tasted heavenly.

  The nurse came in on quiet shoes and Pax let go of her hand so she could be examined. The doctor followed, checking her pupils and asking her questions. She didn’t feel quite as groggy, but she was tired and the commotion made her cringe a little. It seemed as though her senses were in overdrive, like when she used to come out of a migraine—tired, hypersensitive and raw feeling.

  “You gave us a scare, you know,” the doctor said quietly. “Good to see you fully conscious. We’ll be checking on you frequently, okay?”

  She nodded; just the slightest movement of her head because more simply hurt too much.

  “I have a concussion?” she asked, drawing the obvious conclusion.

  “Yes, you do. And your CT scan showed a skull fracture, though it’s what we call a linear fracture. It’ll heal all on its own. The impact split your helmet, Miss Robertson. Thank God you were wearing it.”

  Her stomach went woozy.

  “There’s a pan if you think you’ll be sick. It’s quite common.”

  The wave of nausea passed. “I’m okay.”

  He nodded. “How’s your pain?”

  She attempted a smile. “I guess the term splitting headache actually does apply?”

  He chuckled. “You made a joke. Good for you. We’ll check your chart and see how soon we can give you more pain meds. You’ll stay in at least overnight tonight, and then we’ll assess you tomorrow, okay?”

  She nodded a little.

  He patted her hand. “Get some rest. Mr. Lantry, ring the nurse if she needs anything or anything changes.”

  “You got it, doc.”

  It was then that Megan saw the chair and the folded blanket and the remnants of a food tray at the side of her room.

  “You stayed?”

  Pax came back to the edge of the bed and tenderly touched the side of her cheek with a finger. “I never left, sweetheart.”

  She was tired. So tired. Just the examination and short conversation were exhausting. But she wanted answers first, a chance to get the whole picture before she slipped into sleep again.

  “Start at the beginning,” she ordered, closing her eyes against the light. “Tell me what happened.”

  Pax held her hand tightly in his. He hadn’t really let it go much since she’d regained consciousness, except to make room for the doctor. She’d really scared him.

  “You were having the ride of your life, until the bull you were on did a body roll that threw you off balance. Next kick and your head slammed into his neck. When I look back now, I think you were knocked out then, because you kind of rolled off.”

  Her heart rate kicked up a bit just thinking about it. Unconscious on the floor of the arena? She could have easily been trampled...

  She focused on the sound of his voice. “The bullfighter did a great job getting the bull out and the paramedics moved right in. I was so scared, Megs. The impact made your nose bleed, which is why I saw blood when they loaded you in the ambulance. Looking at that blood...” He didn’t finish the sentence.

  He lifted her hand to his lips. They were soft and warm against her fingers.

  “And they brought me here?”

  “Yes. I came straight here and waited while you were assessed.” He paused. “It took a long time. Or at least, it seemed like a really long time. They finally came out and told me about the fracture, the concussion, how they were going to monitor you for brain swelling and that you were still unconscious.”

  Her throat thickened. “I’m sorry I worried you so much.”

  “Don’t be sorry!” She winced at his louder tone and he lowered his voice. “You’re going to be okay. That’s the only thing that’s important.” He squeezed her fingers. “You woke up in the night last night, but only briefly. This morning you woke up, too, but you probably don’t remember that. I guess it’s the body’s way of protecting itself, huh?”

  “Something like that,” she whispered. She knew enough about medicine to know she’d been very, very
lucky. And enough to know that even if she left the hospital tomorrow, her recovery could be a long and unpredictable process. There’d be no more bull riding for her this season.

  “You stayed,” she repeated, and opened her eyes.

  He was watching her with more than affection. His expression looked like love. It looked bigger than love. The way he gazed into her eyes had a gravity, an inevitability that made her heart turn over and frightened her to death all at the same time. When she’d needed him most, he’d been there for her. After all this time.

  “Pax, I...”

  “You’re awake. Oh, thank you, God.”

  Whatever she’d been about to say was pushed aside as her mother hurried into the room, her hair in a messy ponytail and shadows beneath her eyes.

  “Mom,” Megan said, tears stinging her eyes.

  “Aren’t you a sight.” Megan’s dad stepped inside the room, too, his hair standing a bit on end and a day’s stubble on his chin.

  “You both came.”

  “Of course we did. The moment Paxton called us.”

  Pax stepped away from the bed and let her parents in to sit on the edges. She looked over their shoulders at him. Why did he have to be so stubborn, so unable to see how things could have worked between them? He was a good man. A strong man. A man to rely on. As their gazes clung, she wished he’d just ask. Just open the door to the possibility of them and give them a chance to figure it out.

  “Are you hungry, baby?” Her mother patted her hand, concern written all over her pale face. “Is the pain bad?”

  “It’s not great. I haven’t thought about food.”

  “Maybe some toast?” Her mom’s words were laced with concern. “I know the nurses would find you something.”

  “Sure.”