by Joan Kilby
A gasp went up from the crowd. Cody glanced to the arena. The rider before him had been thrown and the bull had run over him. The bullfighters did their thing and the rider limped across the ring and scrambled over the rails.
Cody threw him a sympathetic glance then turned his focus back to the chute. Gripping the upright poles he swung a leg across so he was suspended above the animal’s back. The bull banged against the rails and set the hollow iron cylinders vibrating.
As the announcer introduced him Cody lowered himself onto Baby Huey’s back, caught hold of the rope and twisted it around his hand. Two tons of seething beast moved restlessly beneath him, just itching to get this flea off its back.
Today Cody was determined to end his losing streak. Knowing Kelly and Ricky were in the stands made him even more resolved to stay the distance. He didn’t want to let that little boy down.
He made his last-minute adjustments, his head cool even as his heart raced. The adrenaline pouring through his veins heightened his senses and made every nerve twitch like a live electric wire. Raising his left hand high above his body, he nodded to the cowboy to open the gate.
Baby Huey exploded out of the chute like a monstrous Tasmanian devil, spinning in tight circles and bucking so ferociously Cody thought he was going to flip forward, end over end. He didn’t have time to feel fear, only the exultation of riding the powerful beast. His fringed black chaps flapped, sawdust flew into his eyes and whiplash jerked his spine with every stiff-legged thudding landing. All his energy and concentration was focused on staying upright and hanging on to the rope for dear life.
The buzzer sounded. He loosened his grip and leaped off as the bullfighters rushed forward to draw the bull away. Not quick enough, though. Baby Huey caught Cody by the seat of his pants with his horns and tossed him in the air like a pile of autumn leaves. He landed on his shoulder, hard, and winced as he rolled away. The bullfighters danced between him and the bull and he scrambled up the rails to thunderous applause.
Controlling a grimace he made his way gingerly to where he could see the judges’ scores. He knew he’d had a good ride but until it was confirmed…
The screen lit up. Eighty-two. Cody shut his eyes in relief and then opened them on a grin. It was enough to get him into the short round tomorrow. That’s all that counted. That and the fact that he’d finally ridden Baby Huey to the finish.
He heard Kelly calling him and turned to see her and Ricky hurrying toward him.
“Are you all right?” she asked, looking horrified. “When that bull lifted you in the air, I almost had a heart attack. Did he gore you?”
“Nah, it was nothing.” Cody brushed at the seat of his pants and found a tear. He suppressed the urge to massage his shoulder. “I’ve had worse.”
“You were awesome!” Ricky exclaimed. “I thought you were going to get killed.”
Cody chuckled. “Not today.”
“You landed on your shoulder,” Kelly went on. “We met the rodeo’s massage therapist, Piper, yesterday. You should get her to treat it.”
“Nah, it’s okay.” He changed the subject. “I will rest up for tonight, though.” He winked at Kelly then turned to Ricky. “Do you think you can eat a whole steak?”
“I’m going to a campout tonight,” Ricky told him. “We’re going to roast hot dogs and tell ghost stories around a campfire.”
“He’s talked of nothing else since we found out about it,” Kelly said.
“You’ll have a terrific time,” Cody said to him. “Do you stay out all night, just like cowboys out on the range?” His gaze slid back to Kelly. She turned pink and bit her lip.
“Yessir.” Ricky nodded his head vigorously.
Cody pretended to give the boy a judicious once-over. “You’ve got the hat and the boots. All you need is a buckle.” With that he undid his belt and removed the big shiny silver buckle he’d won in Reno. “I’ll lend you this to wear for tonight. Don’t lose it, though, you hear?”
“Wow.” Ricky clutched the championship buckle to his chest. “David has one but it’s not as good as this.”
“You tell David you’re the top cowpoke around here.”
Ricky giggled. “I will.”
Then a reporter was there, shoving a microphone in his face to interview him. They didn’t usually do this till after the short round so it must be that damn donation again.
Kelly started backing away. “See you tonight.”
“Wear your dancing shoes,” Cody called.
Her dimples showed as she smiled.
Cody dragged his attention back to the reporter and forced himself to give coherent responses to the questions. Then some kids wanted autographs and photos so it was an hour or more before he got away. As he started back to his trailer he passed the massage tent and his steps slowed. His shoulder was still hurting. Maybe he should get Piper to work on it.
Nah, he’d be all right. He carried on to his trailer. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he sat on the steps to check his phone for messages. There were several voicemail messages from his mom; no surprise there. He’d call her later. A text from a man who’d been interested in buying a rawhide bridle. Cody replied with a price and hoped for the best. It was hard to compete with the guys in prison who did rawhiding.
Scrolling farther down a name from the past jumped out at him. Tegan. He hadn’t seen or heard from her in ten years. The sight of her name sent a flood of guilt and shame washing over him. With trembling fingers, he opened the message.
Hey, baby, I saw on Twitter that you won a big prize in Reno. Congratulations. Miss you so much!
He frowned, trying to decipher the message between the lines. She sounded upbeat but the last time he’d heard news of her she’d been in a bad way, in and out of rehab, her life in a downward spiral that Cody blamed himself for. Did she need help? He didn’t have much cash left but he could send her something.
His finger hovered over the reply button. Instead of pushing it, he shut the phone and sucked in a lungful of air. He needed to shower and get ready for his date with Kelly.
He avoided thinking about Tegan. His behavior back then still haunted him. He should have done things differently. Maybe if he’d been a better man her life wouldn’t have turned to crap.
Kelly made him feel good about himself. True, what he’d done for her and Ricky had been an impulse, a moment out of character. But it had showed him what he was capable of.
She’d seemed nervous about asking him to the dinner tonight. He hoped the rumors about him hadn’t scared her. She wasn’t like the buckle bunnies he usually hooked up with at rodeos. She had ambitions and goals and was smart enough to know that her future didn’t include a rodeo cowboy. Yet, she seemed to be looking for a “good time, not a long time” with him.
Well, that suited him just fine because he wasn’t looking for anything long term either. He would hate to let her down the way he’d let Tegan down. One good deed didn’t make him a reformed character. Bottom line, he would treat Kelly the way he treated all women these days—with respect but no promises. He gave them what they wanted and took what they offered. End of story.
He went across to the shower block and cleaned up. Then back at his trailer he dressed in clean jeans, his best boots and a brand-new, long-sleeved shirt he’d bought in Jackson Hole. Over the crisp white cotton he pulled on the black leather vest Kelly had made for him. It buttoned up to a snug fit and the cutaway at the hem showed off his best gold buckle to perfection. He grabbed his black Stetson and went out into the dusky evening.
Kelly was special. She deserved his best effort. He would dance with her, make sure no badass drunken cowboys hit on her and make love to her if that’s what she wanted.
Then he would say goodbye and good luck and let her go. It would be hard because she was so damn pretty and he was a sucker for her big blue eyes and dimples. But he’d done one good thing in his life. He didn’t want to ruin it by screwing up now.
Chapter Six
K
elly ran her fingers through her naturally wavy blonde hair and checked herself in the motel mirror. Not too bad. She was glad now she’d packed her favorite dress, a turquoise blue, off-the-shoulder number with a fitted bodice that flowed into a wide, swirly skirt.
Ricky grabbed his sleeping bag and backpack with his pajamas and followed her out to the car. She drove him to the campout and left him in the capable hands of a buxom grandmotherly woman named Mrs. Linton. He was assigned a buddy named Joel who was a year or two older and an old hand at the campout. Joel showed Ricky where to stow his sleeping bag and then introduced him to the other children.
“I’ll leave my cell number with Mrs. Linton,” Kelly told Ricky. “Call if you need me.”
“Okay, Mom.” Ricky submitted to a hug and then went off with Joel with barely a backward glance.
Kelly bit her lip and blinked. Six months ago he would have clung to her. His confidence had grown along with the improvements to his health.
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” Mrs. Linton said, patting her shoulder. “There are plenty of responsible adults to look after the children and he’ll be so busy he won’t miss you.”
“I know he’ll be fine,” Kelly said. “Thank you.”
Main Street was buzzing as Kelly made her way back across the railway line toward the barbeque area near the courthouse. Long trestle tables covered in tablecloths had been set up in the open space at the foot of the courthouse steps. Half steel drums glowing with live coals were presided over by burly men in chef’s aprons. Volunteers from the Marietta Boosters were setting out squeeze bottles of steak sauce and ketchup along with pitchers of iced tea and lemonade. Sizzling T-bones emitted enticing aromas. Music and conversation filled the air.
Kelly glanced around for Cody. He wasn’t in sight but Trish spotted her and waved her over. She was sitting with a fleshy, forty-something man Kelly assumed was her husband.
Kelly returned the wave but didn’t immediately start over, not sure she wanted to sit with someone who hadn’t had a good word to say about Cody.
Then she felt a warm hand on her shoulder and turned to see the man himself. Cody’s gaze drifted lazily from her off-the-shoulder top to the turquoise pendant nestled in her cleavage down to her floaty skirt in swirling blues and greens. “You look as pretty as a two-year-old filly.”
“High praise, indeed,” she said, dryly, smiling. “You scrub up all right yourself.”
His wavy black hair was clean and glossy and his clothes had that just-laundered air. A couple of inches taller than herself, he was solid muscle, unlike some of the more wiry cowboys. Having seen him riding today had brought it home how intensely physical his job was.
“The vest looks wonderful on you.” She placed a hand on his chest and smoothed out the black leather as if testing the fit of her handiwork. Tugging the points down, checking the spaces between the buttons. Turning him around, she adjusted the shoulders, running a palm down his spine to the self-belt. Finally she had no more excuses to touch him.
“You make me look good, in more ways than one.” He turned around again and his eyes held hers as if he couldn’t drag them away. “Have you got a seat yet?”
Kelly gestured over her shoulder. “I met that woman at the rodeo today. She asked me to sit with her.”
“Trish Bingley?” Cody frowned. “Her mother, Carol, is the biggest gossip in Marietta. I’ve got enough people talking about me already. How about we head in the opposite direction?”
“Excellent idea,” Kelly said. “It was Carol who cornered me in the diner that first day. She must have spread the news about you all over town.”
Kelly gave Trish a faux helpless wave of farewell, thankful to avoid what could be an awkward situation. Maybe Cody had a bad reputation but so far she hadn’t seen him be anything but charming and kind. Okay, he’d been grumpy that first afternoon but he’d been blindsided by her and Ricky’s arrival and all the attention so she forgave him for that.
Cody found another table and Kelly draped her sweater over the chair back while they went to get food and drinks. They made their way along the groaning tables, loading their plates with juicy charred steak, a variety of salads, fresh rolls and corn on the cob.
Flo from the diner, her tall beehive tight as a drum, was taking payment at a table set up with a portable credit card machine and a cash box.
“Hey, Flo.” Cody handed her a couple of twenties, waving away Kelly’s attempt to pay for her own dinner. “This is Kelly. She and her son Ricky are visiting from Reno.”
“Why, I know who they are.” Flo set her veined hands on her bony hips. “Goodness me, Cody Starr. What a dark horse you are! Never knew you had that much goodness in you. You should have been riding at the front of the parade instead of that dumbass actor from the reality TV show.”
“Ah, go on,” Cody said, stemming the flow of praise. He’d heard so much about his “amazing generosity” in the past two days that he was thoroughly sick of himself. “I’ve been dreaming of your potato salad for weeks. Glad to see you made it again this year.”
“Does a bear poop in the woods?” Flo retorted, a pleased glint in her eye. The old gal had to be pushing seventy but she could be as coquettish as an ingénue around cowboys.
“You’re a legend, Flo,” Cody said, grinning. “When are you going to marry me?”
“Don’t be foolish.” She slapped him with a wad of paper napkins before setting them on his tray. To Kelly, she added with a wink, “You watch out. Cody is a terrible flirt.”
“You don’t say,” Kelly said with a smile. To Cody she murmured, “Every man and his dog is warning me about you, even people like Flo who clearly dote on you.”
“There’s a reason for that,” he said. “You should listen.”
“Really?” Her blue eyes narrowed speculatively, a playful smile on her lips. “Hmm, I wonder, just how bad can you be?”
“Hey, Cody!” a slurring male voice called.
Cody’s hands stiffened around his tray. Damn. Dean Maynard again. The rodeo circuit was great because he got to hang out with his friends but it also meant he couldn’t get away from his enemies. He and Dean had been playing leapfrog on the points scoreboard all season and Cody was currently on top in bull riding. Dean didn’t like to lose. Come to that, neither did he.
Stepping away from the cash desk, Cody faced the other cowboy. Dean’s too-handsome features were already flushed with alcohol even though it was barely six p.m. His fine, thinning blond hair flopped in his eyes. He’d probably been in the saloon all afternoon. “You talking to me?”
Dean first sneered at him and then leered at Kelly. “Looks like your investment is paying off, Starr.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?” Cody demanded.
“I heard she drove all the way from Reno just to ‘thank’ you,” the other man said with a smirk. “When you’re done with her don’t forget your friends.”
Dean’s date for the night, a busty brunette in tight jeans, elbowed him in the ribs. “Hey, I’m right here.”
Dean ignored her, waiting for Cody’s reaction. His male friends in line behind him guffawed.
“Don’t pay him any attention, Kelly,” Cody said. “He’s just trying to get my goat. Come on, let’s sit down.”
Seeing red, he stalked back to their table, determined not to let Dean goad him into throwing the first punch. For one thing, brawling was a surefire way to get kicked out of the rodeo and for another thing, he didn’t want to lower himself to Dean’s level.
But the confrontation was disturbing. The disbelieving reactions from everyone to his Good Samaritan act, including Dean, illustrated just how poorly most people thought of him. He didn’t like what it said about him. If he’d become blind to his own faults he needed to fix that.
“Did I hear right?” Kelly said, incensed, as they took their seats. “Did he really imply that a woman couldn’t thank a man with just words?”
“And a hand-sewn vest,” Cody reminded her, try
ing to lighten the situation. “I’m crazy about this vest. I feel like Gregory Peck when I wear it.”
“And does that guy really think I came here planning to express my gratitude by sleeping with you?” She was fuming.
As she had every right to. Only Cody’s wish not to spoil Kelly’s evening had stopped him from tackling Dean. His own interest perked up at the mental image of her in his bed but this wasn’t the time to let her see that.
“I don’t even want to think about what goes on in Dean Maynard’s slime pit of a brain,” Cody said.
“He and his friends looked at me as if I’d popped out of a cake to give you a lap dance,” Kelly went on indignantly.
Again with the vivid images. Cody shifted uncomfortably at the sudden tightness in his jeans, feeling in that moment no better than Dean.
Kelly stabbed at her steak as if she wanted to stab Dean Maynard. “Meanwhile he and his Neanderthal friends think they could have a turn!”
Not a snowball’s, Cody vowed silently.
“That they think I should repay you with sex is beyond obnoxious,” Kelly added. “That would make me… I don’t even want to say it. Although now that he’s put that thought in my head I can’t get rid of it. I don’t know who should be more insulted, me or you. Unless…” Her eyes widened. “That’s what you think, too?”
Cody’s gaze snapped to hers. No. His mouth opened but he didn’t have time to protest his innocence before Dean and his mongrel friends slumped onto the bench seats opposite him and Kelly. From their clumsy movements and slurred speech it was obvious they were all half cut.
“Come on, admit it, Starr,” Dean slurred. “We all know you’re no philanthropist. Sixty-five thousand bucks is a lot of blow jobs.”
The other men sniggered.
“Shut your face, Dean,” Cody muttered.
“Hell, you’ve run up enough credit for half the cowboys on the circuit to have a turn.”
Cody lunged, grabbed Dean by the front of his shirt and hauled him halfway across the table right through his plate of food and knocking over a glass of lemonade. “Apologize to the lady, now!”
