Arizona Cowboy

by Marin Thomas

  One more twist of the bull rope and Shannon nodded to the gateman. Sweet Sassafras spun Shannon in a circle then performed a series of bucks but was unable to toss her from his back. Rachel stared at the seconds ticking off the JumboTron.

  C’mon, Shannon. You can do it.

  The buzzer rang and the crowd went ballistic.

  “That was some ride by Shannon Douglas!”

  Shannon waited for the right moment and launched herself off the bull. She landed on her feet, stumbled once then ran for the rails. Sweet Sassafras ignored Shannon and allowed Randy to guide him from the arena.

  “Shannon Douglas earned an 84—good enough for first place!”

  As soon as Shannon’s boots hit the dirt in the cowboy-ready area, Rachel hugged her. “You were fabulous!”

  The cowgirl removed her headgear and gasped. “How’s Julie?”

  “I’m on my way to find out. Grab your gear and meet me at the first-aid station.” Rachel weaved through the crowd toward the EMS truck parked near the livestock pens. She poked her head inside the vehicle. Julie’s arm rested in a sling and a paramedic held an ice pack against her shoulder. “How’s the patient?” she asked.

  “Dislocated her shoulder but I put it back in place,” the paramedic said. “I suggested she make an appointment with her personal physician to determine if she needs an MRI. She might have torn a ligament.”

  “I’m sorry, Rachel,” Julie said.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I hope your shoulder heals quickly and doesn’t keep you out of work.”

  “I’ve got a few vacation days if I need them.” Julie shifted on the cot, wincing when she jostled her injured arm. “Do you think Shannon will find a replacement for me before the Boot Hill Rodeo?”

  “She will. Don’t worry.”

  A moment later Shannon pulled Rachel aside. “I’ll try to find another girl to take Julie’s spot but I can’t guarantee I’ll find one in time.”

  “I’ll ride,” Lauren said, joining the conversation.

  “Your father said no bull riding, remember?” Rachel said.

  “I’ve watched the others all week and I’ve practiced on the mechanical bull in the barn. I can do it.”

  “A machine is different from a real bull,” Rachel said.

  “Then, let me practice on real bulls.” Lauren refused to drop the subject.

  “I’ve been riding bulls for a few years and I get thrown more than I stay on,” Shannon said.

  Convinced Clint wouldn’t allow his daughter to get anywhere near a bull, Rachel said, “You’ll have to get your father’s permission first.”

  Wendy, Skylar and Kim arrived. “Where’s Dixie?” Rachel asked.

  Shannon glanced over her shoulder. Dixie stood a few yards away chatting with a handsome cowboy. “Hey, Dix! You coming with us or not?”

  Dixie waved them off.

  “Where’s the party?” Julie stepped outside the EMS truck. “Drinks are on me.” She giggled.

  “The paramedic gave her a shot for pain,” Wendy said. “She’s as high as a kite.”

  “We’re signing a few autographs for the kids then heading over to Bubba Tubs Barbecue to celebrate.” Kim looked at Lauren. “You’re welcome to come along.”

  “You don’t need my help, do you?” Lauren asked Rachel.

  The teen had worked hard preparing for the rodeo and deserved to have fun. “Can you drop Lauren off at the entrance to the fairground by eleven o’clock tonight?”

  “Sure,” Kim said.

  “Thanks, Rachel.” Lauren beamed.

  “No drinking,” Rachel warned.

  “We’ll order Lauren Shirley Temples,” Wendy joked.

  “I’m serious.” The last thing Rachel needed was Clint blaming her for encouraging his underage daughter to drink.

  Shannon slung an arm over Lauren’s shoulder. “We’ve got her back.”

  Deciding Lauren was in good hands, Rachel went searching for Clint. She found him guzzling a water bottle near the bull pen.

  “That was some ride by Shannon,” she said, announcing her presence.

  “If she can avoid injury and find a few more rodeos to compete in throughout the year, she’ll be as good as any cowboy on the circuit.” Clint tossed the plastic water bottle into a garbage can. “How’s Julie?”

  “Dislocated shoulder.”

  “Damn.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have grabbed her arm like I did.”

  “You didn’t have a choice. You had to drag her to safety or she’d have been trampled by the bull.”

  “You’re down to five riders.”

  “’Fraid so. Shannon’s going to look for a replacement.” She considered telling Clint that Lauren had volunteered but decided that fight was best left between father and daughter. “After the girls sign autographs, they’re going out for barbecue. They invited Lauren along but promised to bring her back to the rodeo grounds by eleven tonight.”

  “We’ll have a couple of hours to kill after we tie up the loose ends here.”

  Exactly what Rachel had been thinking. “We could grab a bite to eat.” Her pulse quickened when Clint’s gaze dropped to her chest before returning to her face.

  “A steak dinner sounds good,” he said.

  “I’ve got a media interview in a few minutes.”

  “Okay. I’ll change clothes then help load the animals in the livestock trailers. I’ll meet you at the cashier’s booth when I finish.”

  “See you in a little while.” She turned to leave but Clint’s voice stopped her.

  “Rachel.”

  Her name left his mouth in a whisper. “Yes?”

  “I’m looking forward to dinner.”

  “Me, too.” Rachel hurried away before she did something stupid like tell Clint she thought he looked sexy in knee socks.

  “THANKS FOR YOUR HELP.” Steve Gentry shut the door after the last bull had been loaded into the livestock trailer.

  “We need to talk,” Clint said.

  Steve glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to be in Oklahoma next weekend for a rodeo and these bulls need to rest a few days before another road trip. The sooner I put them to pasture the better.” He stepped toward the driver’s door but Clint blocked his path.

  “Hot Chocolate has no business in a women’s rough-stock event,” Clint said.

  “I did you a favor by bringing in extra bulls.”

  “Julie Kenner could have been trampled to death if she’d fallen beneath that bull.”

  “Look,” Gentry said. “I scrambled like hell to find lesser-point bulls for the women. Hot Chocolate didn’t work out. Big deal. No harm done.”

  “Don’t use that bull in the Boot Hill Rodeo.”

  Gentry scoffed. “Or what?”

  “Five Star Rodeos will find another stock contractor.” There were other contractors in the business who’d be happy to add Five Star Rodeos to their client list, but P.T. and Gentry went back a long way and Clint hoped Gentry would cooperate. Clint didn’t want to explain to P.T. why a longtime business association had been severed.

  “I’ll find a replacement for the bull,” Gentry grumbled.

  “Appreciate that.” Clint tipped his hat and weaved through the livestock pens. Satisfied no animals had been left behind, he made his way across the rodeo grounds to the cashier’s booth. When he arrived at the front office, Rachel was engaged in conversation with Mayor McDonnell.

  “Clint.” McDonnell flashed a big grin. “Hell of a show those gals put on tonight. P.T. should have had you running the rodeos years ago.”

  “I told you the rodeo would be in good hands with Clint in charge.” Rachel batted her eyelashes at the mayor.

  “Hope you’ll spread the word on how satisfied you were with the women’s rough-stock event.”

  “Be happy to sing your praises.” McDonnell walked off, leaving Clint alone with Rachel. He braced himself for an “I-told-you-so” but one never came.

  “I’m hungry,” Rachel said.

/>   “Me, too.” Instead of leading the way to his truck he studied Rachel, liking the way her snug jeans gloved her fanny. And the way the pearl snaps on her Western shirt sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights. His gaze dropped to the ground. “Nice boots. New?”

  “I bought them this morning at the Justin booth.”

  “You’re turning into a regular cowgirl.”

  Rachel laughed. “Not a chance.”

  “There’s a restaurant five miles from here that serves a mean steak.” He led the way outside but stopped when he recalled Rachel’s comment about not eating red meat. “The place only serves steak. If you want we can try a different restaurant.”

  “No, that’s fine. I haven’t had a steak in months.”

  By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the Pack Mule, Clint’s jeans had become uncomfortably tight, suggesting he’d rather be doing something other than eating with Rachel.

  “Looks like a popular place,” she said.

  “It’s not fancy, but they serve cowboy-size portions.”

  Once inside, the hostess showed them to a table. As they walked through the restaurant several patrons waved to Clint or called his name. Most were old cronies of P.T.’s. A waitress named Ellen arrived with a basket of fresh-baked bread and honey-flavored butter. “What can I get you folks to drink?”

  “I’ll have a glass of your house wine,” Rachel said.

  “Water’ll do for me,” Clint said.

  “Need a few more minutes or are you ready to order?” Ellen asked.

  “Is there a menu I can see?” Rachel frowned.

  “We serve steak, steak and steak. No chicken. No fish. Just steak.”

  “I’ll take the porterhouse cut, rare.” Clint spoke to Rachel. “They offer a lady’s filet mignon.”

  “Sure,” Rachel said. “Medium well, please.”

  “Baked potato or steak fries?” Ellen asked.

  “Baked potato.”

  “Me, too,” Clint said. “Loaded.”

  The waitress glanced at Rachel.

  “Loaded, also.”

  “Be back in a jiffy.”

  After Ellen left, Clint asked, “Tired?”

  “I’m bushed and I wasn’t the one busting bulls or rescuing cowgirls.”

  “I think the fans were surprised at how competitive the women were.”

  “Mayor Larsen and Mayor Ross interviewed the vendors at the rodeo throughout the day and were pleased with the positive responses from the merchants.”

  Go on. Tell her. “I owe you an apology. I thought for sure your idea to bring in a women’s rough-stock event would fail to increase attendance.”

  “I took a chance and it paid off.”

  Rachel had the right to gloat but she didn’t and Clint’s admiration for her upped a notch. “The rodeo in Boot Hill is four weeks away and we’re one bull rider short.”

  “Shannon will find someone.” Rachel’s voice rang with confidence.

  Clint wasn’t convinced Shannon would find a replacement for Julie. Women bull riders were few and far between. If another rider couldn’t be found the event would be canceled, putting the success of the rodeo at risk.

  Well, it’s not my problem. Clint knew of a couple women in the area who might consider filling Julie’s spot, but why help Rachel look good in P.T.’s eyes? Oh, hell, he was damned confused about everything—his relationship with P.T., Rachel’s relationship with her father. The more he learned about Rachel the more he sympathized with the position P.T. had put her in this summer. As far as Clint was concerned, the whole situation was a sticky mess none of them could easily wash their hands of.

  Ellen delivered their meals and he watched Rachel scrape half the cheese and sour cream off her potato before taking a bite.

  “You’re a health nut, aren’t you?”

  She smiled. “The older I become the more difficult it is to keep off the pounds.”

  “I don’t know why you’re worried. You have a great body.”

  Her face flushed at his compliment. “I work hard to stay in shape.” She waved her fork in the air. “I have to walk the talk in front of the student athletes.”

  Clint didn’t want to discuss Rachel’s job. He was more interested in her personal life. “Are you in a relationship right now?”

  If his direct question bothered her she didn’t show it. “I was engaged once, but it didn’t work out.”

  P.T. never mentioned an engagement, but then again he might not have known. “The guy’s a jerk,” Clint said.

  “How do you mean?”

  “For cheating on you.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened.

  “When someone says it didn’t work out that means one of them cheated.” He narrowed his gaze. “You weren’t the cheater.”

  “Thank you…I think.” Rachel finished her wine in two swallows. “Mike was in Japan on a business trip when he met another woman. He married her overseas then returned to the States, broke the news to me and cleared his things out of my condo before leaving the country.” Rachel smiled. “Your turn.”

  “I proposed to Lauren’s mother when she learned she was pregnant but Liz didn’t want to marry a cowboy. She wanted a man who worked nine to five and whose job came with health insurance, benefits and a fat wallet.”

  “Did Liz find that man?”

  “Too soon to tell if husband number five is him.” Clint gave in to the need to know more about Rachel’s private life. “Back to you,” he said. “Are you dating anyone in Rhode Island?” He figured men of all ages would stand in line for a chance with a woman like Rachel.

  “Nope.” She smiled. “I tried online dating but that was a disaster.”

  “Don’t leave me hanging.” He chuckled. “What happened?”

  “None of my dates resembled their profile pictures.”

  “How many dates did you go on?”

  “Six before I shut down my account.”

  Ellen appeared, setting a second glass of wine on the table and refilling Clint’s water glass. “How does everything taste?”

  “Delicious,” Rachel said. Then continued after Ellen left again. “Five of the men pushed for sex on the first date to see if we were compatible. The sixth guy claimed he was a born-again virgin and wouldn’t have sex until we were officially engaged.”

  Clint couldn’t contain his need to know if Rachel had slept with her dates. “Did you have sex with any of them?”

  “Of course not.”

  He loved the way her pale skin flushed pink when she was embarrassed.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I broke up several months ago with a woman I’d had an on-again off-again relationship with for several years. Monica finally accepted that I wasn’t going to propose so she ran off with a salesman from Vegas nine months ago.”

  Country Western music filtered through the wall of the restaurant, affording Clint a reason to change the subject. “There’s a live band playing next door. We’ve got time for a dance or two before we meet Lauren at the fairgrounds.”

  “I don’t know any of those fancy line dances.”

  “Me, neither.” Clint stood and offered his hand. Rachel placed her fingers in his and he swore his body temperature spiked ten degrees. “I’ll show you the kind of dancing I know best.”

  “Oh? What kind is that?”

  “The kind where we hold each other close and sway.”

  Chapter Nine

  A live band played a George Strait ballad as Clint pressed his palm against Rachel’s lower back and guided her toward the corner of the crowded dance floor. The warmth of his touch felt right—not awkward, as Rachel had feared. Holding her left hand prisoner against his chest, they swayed…his hips gliding right then left, bumping softly against her thighs.

  The easy rhythm lulled Rachel closer…closer…until her breasts brushed his chest. Was it her imagination or had his hold tightened?

  This isn’t smart, Rachel.

  Two weeks had passed since sh
e’d arrived in Stagecoach and Clint was far from being a stranger. Her physical attraction to him was no surprise—what woman wouldn’t find the handsome cowboy sexy? But there was more to Clint than male magnetism, and the sparks flying between them weren’t all sexual. They were both stubborn and had a tendency to dig their heels in before hearing all the facts. Their face-offs created a palpable energy in the air that invigorated Rachel and fed into her determination to conquer any challenge thrown her way.

  Don’t be melodramatic. Your hormones are in overdrive.

  Granted, she hadn’t had sex since her breakup with Mike, making her hyperaware of Clint’s sexual magnetism.

  On a cerebral level, Rachel struggled with Clint’s loyalty to her father. She understood what spawned his devotion—P.T. had provided Clint with a stable home and made him feel valued and wanted after a tough childhood in foster care. She didn’t begrudge Clint his happy-ever-after, but his close relationship with P.T. made it more difficult for Rachel to reconnect with her father.

  “You’re frowning,” Clint whispered in her ear. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

  She leaned back and stared. Clint’s Stetson cast a shadow over his face, hiding his eyes from view. Dare she tell the truth—that the little girl inside her was jealous of his bond with her father? That she was angry at P.T. for casting her aside then later taking in Clint?

  Deciding to hold her tongue, Rachel said, “Tomorrow’s Sunday. Let’s visit my father. Maybe Lauren would like to come along, too.”

  “P.T. doesn’t want visitors.”

  “My father’s bluffing. He appreciated my company a few days ago.”

  Clint tucked Rachel against him in a way that left no doubt she excited him. “Okay,” he whispered, his lips grazing her ear.

  Okay, what? Was Clint asking her permission to touch her or was he agreeing to accompany her to Phoenix? Before she found her voice he took her by the hand and led her through a side door, which opened onto an alley alongside the building. Once the door closed behind them, he pinned her against the brick building.