So she got out of her car, ran her palms down her white shirt and jeans, then began to stroll the rodeo grounds.
And oh god, was the feeling delicious.
From the new coat of whitewash on the barns and the new signs at the gates to the spiffily dressed ticket-takers and the look of the newly sanded main ring, the Hayward Rodeo looked first class.
Strolling around, grinning like an imbecile, she bought caramel popcorn and ate every kernel. She wolfed down beef barbeque with so many jalapenos, she was certain her hair curled. She went out to the stalls and strolled along the bullpens and the bronco pens. Oh, Chet, you must be proud of this.
She walked along the newly paved, trailer-access lot and watched penning teams saddling up their horses for the competition. She laughed at the greased pig races, and tried the jerky from five different vendors before she held up her hand and said, “Thanks, no more!”
She walked toward the office and the parking lot where Chet’s and Sam’s trucks sat. She didn’t want to see Chet until she was ready. So she sat across from the office trailer in the shade of a live oak on a picnic bench, her sunglasses on, to plan her words.
That’s when the office door opened and Sam came out, arm in arm with none other than Kylee Farrell. They grinned at each other like fools as they strode to his truck. Then, as he opened the door for her, she reached up on tiptoes and planted a huge smacker on his mouth. In flashpoint, Sam had her pinned against the cab and the path his mouth took down the neckline of the lady’s western shirt was nigh unto scintillating. So much for staying away from temptation, Sam Trunbridge. They broke away suddenly, laughed and looked around.
Spying Shana, Sam waved at her. “I’m coming back in about an hour. Glad you’re here. I need to talk to you.”
She nodded. “I see the one you decided to talk to was Kylee.”
“I have. We did. Thanks to you.”
She smiled, shrugged and waved him off. “I’ll be here. Get going!” She suspected where they were headed would keep them occupied for more than an hour too.
Then from the other direction, Shana saw Reata approach her.
“Hey, sweetie.” Reata gave her a hug and sat next to her. “I’ve been watching you roam around the grounds for quite a while. What do you think?”
“I’m tickled!”
“You should be.” Reata took a long look at Shana, her dark-brown eyes probing. “Aren’t you going to see Chet?”
Shana gathered up every ounce of courage she had found in the past months. “It’s why I’m here. Do you know where I can find him?”
Reata smiled. “Thank god. That man is no good without you.”
“Might not be good with me either. Not after what I did to him. Not after what I need to tell him.”
“Well, whatever it is, you need to have a talk with him. If he can’t understand, he can’t find a way to ever smile again, now can he?”
“No. Me either. Where do I go?”
Reata pointed up into the stands, now teaming with fans settling in to watch the next performance.
“Oh hell, Reata. I’ll never find him up there.” But she had to try.
Among the thousands of people, most men would be hard to find. Chet Stapleton was hard to miss.
Backed up against the wall of the tallest stadium seats, he stood, his legs spread, his arms crossed. In his standard starched, white western shirt and jeans with a silver belt buckle as big as her two fists, he was a scrumptious sight for her sore eyes. He watched the formations of the latest act in the arena, a drum and bugle corps from the local high school. His handsome face was split in the biggest grin she’d ever seen him sport.
But when she walked up to him and said hello, his features fell apart.
He inhaled, recovering himself enough to take in her ponytail, shirt and jeans. “Been around to see your work?”
She stood taller, scraping up all her gumption. He was still so angry. How could she ever explain? How could she survive making him angrier? “I have. It looks wonderful.”
He nodded, his luscious green gaze so enchanting. “You need to be proud of yourself.”
“I am.” She took the words and used them to her advantage. “I’d like to be prouder.”
He stared at her. Whether he understood what she meant or not, she couldn’t take time to learn. The noise from the crowd was rising to higher, ear-splitting decibels and she couldn’t speak to him here. “I’d like to talk to you. Privately.”
“Now?”
“Please. It won’t take me long, and what I want to tell you is long overdue. Can we go to your office?”
He thought that one over for long seconds. “Hurry up. I want to be back for the next event.”
Shana expected him to take her arm and help her descend the steps, like the gentleman he always was, but he didn’t touch her.
As they walked across the yard toward the office, she regretted that she’d ever tried to come here and talk to him. What was she going to gain? Whatever it was, a freer conscience, a clear slate, it was her gain, wasn’t it? Not his. How selfish of her.
He took out his keys and opened the main office door. Then he swung it wide to let her precede him. She strode inside to the room where she’d first met him and first seen that he was better—so much better—than she had imagined any man could be. Her temporary desk, all the rickety chairs, the overflowing file cabinets were gone. The only item that remained was Chet’s desk, clean as a whistle, not paper or paperclip to be found.
She spun toward him. “What’s happening here? Where is everything?”
Chet had taken up the same hard stance he’d assumed up on the stairs. Corded legs braced wide, massive arms folded across his chest. His position was formidable and so was his tone. “Gone. Sam’s building us a new office over on the other side of the pens.”
“That’s terrific.” She clasped her hands together. “Oh, just what you need.”
His expression told her no, that was not what he needed. “What do you want, Shana?”
“I came to tell you everything.”
“Why?” The word was dark with pain.
She had to keep going. “Because I should have long ago. Because I owe it to you.”
“You owe me nothing.” He extended an arm to define the room, the pens, the main rodeo. “You did all this. I owe you my thanks.”
“I hear Sam gave you a raise.” She stepped toward him.
“And a bonus. I’m buying my house.”
“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful.” She realized when he winced that she’d said too much and not yet enough. She bit her lip, ran a hand back through her hair. “Look, I need to tell you how I hurt you.”
“Damn, Shana, you don’t need to tell me. I feel it every hour of every day.”
“No!” She stomped her foot. “Before a few weeks ago, I hurt you. I was the one—” she grabbed a breath. “I was the one who wrote that story about you in the Dallas paper!”
His eyes widened, and the green went from dark to light.
“I am S.J. Carpenter, and I wrote the piece that the TV reporters and the national association used to run you out of competition.”
He hadn’t moved, and she wasn’t sure he’d heard her so she walked forward, pointing to her chest.
“Don’t you see, I ruined you. And it was because all that afternoon I saw you yelling at the judges, arguing with your competitors and acting like a wild man!”
“I was drunk.”
He said it so softly she had to pause. “What?”
“I was drunk. Had been for two days. Didn’t know enough not to compete.”
“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “But…but that doesn’t matter. I still wrote that. I couldn’t believe how the media used it and made it into this huge story. God! On all the channels! They said you were a hothead. Then someone else came along and talked about the way bronco busting was so dangerous. Caused so much brain damage. And I felt like a fool. An idiot. I hadn’t known about your head injury
and I should have done my research. I had ruined you and all the while you were disabled!”
“I should have quit long before you wrote that piece.”
“Maybe so,” she said but she was on a roll and went back to her revelations. “But I didn’t know, and I should have fact-checked you before I gave the story to my editor. I was a terrible journalist. Not dedicated to writing the facts but bent on writing what I thought was true.”
A tender smile played around his mouth. “Clearly, you are a better event planner and PR person.”
“Yeah. Wonders never cease,” she muttered.
“I hope Jeff Wentworth has shown you he’s proud of what you’ve done here.”
“He has.”
“Oh?” A mask fell over his features. “Giving you a promotion? To date? Girl friend?”
“No.” She stepped forward. Because Chet had jealousy written on every line of his face, she felt empowered, and she used every ounce of it. “He gave me a bonus. And my expenses.”
“Kind of him. I’m sure there’s more to come from good ol’ Wentworth.”
“No. I don’t want anything from him. I don’t want anything to do with him.
“You work for him.”
“Not anymore, I don’t.”
His mouth fell open, then he snapped it shut. “What do you do then?”
She glanced around the empty office. Empty, like her life. “I’m not certain.”
“You’ll find your way.”
Will I?
“Where have you been, Shana?”
He sounded like a wounded animal. The agony in his voice gutted her.
“You’ve been gone two months. A long time. Where’d you go??”
“Uvalde.”
“Uvalde? So close. So far. You’d rather leave me and hide, than damage your precious image. Must be damn hard to be a perfectionist.”
She smarted at his insult. “I wanted to be perfect for you.”
“Well, you’re not.”
“Guess you’re right.” Tears burning her eyes, she stared at him. “I’m ashamed of myself! I hated myself.”
“Welcome to the real world, baby. We all do things we wish we hadn’t.”
“But I ruined your career.”
He shook her. “I ruined my own damn career. That’s what I tried to tell you all along. I told you about the head injuries and alcohol. I thought once we got through all that, you’d see it didn’t mean a hill of beans to me that you were the reporter.”
All the air left her body. She groped for logic. “You knew?”
He stared into her eyes, hauling her closer. “I knew.”
She grabbed handfuls of his shirt. “Since when?”
“Since you sent me the proposal with your name on it.”
Her mouth couldn’t drop open any wider. “You knew! You knew I was the reporter.” She pushed away from him, her mind frantically trying to connect the dots. “I wondered—but you forgave me?”
“Not at first.” His eyes danced in wicked delight. “Maybe after the first ten minutes, I said to myself, what the hell. She’s smart and beautiful. And I knew why you were here. Why you negotiated and practically gave the project away for peanuts. The more I got to know you, of course, I forgave you. But by the first night and the second day, I was so much in love with you I’d forgive you anything.”
“And I was tearing myself up inside to try to make it all up to you.”
“You did, baby.” He pulled her closer.
She stepped backward.
“Look around, honey. All this, you made.”
Her gaze fluttered over the bare office, and all she saw, all she felt, was the heartache she’d created for herself and him. “I could never find the courage to tell you. That first day I walked in here I just wanted the job so that I could build something good for you and make it all up to you. Then…then I took one look at you up close, and suddenly I wanted you so much more. I couldn’t think beyond having you. I got caught up in needing you to want me and love me.”
“And I wasn’t any help, was I?” He pushed tendrils of her hair back over her ear. “I took one look at S.J. Carpenter and knew I was falling so hard, I’d never hit bottom. I wanted you, baby, just as much as you wanted me. Once we got started, there was no going back.”
“Not for apologies?”
“I was ready to wait for them until you were ready to give them. I didn’t want to rush you. I wanted you to come to me in your own time. I saw how you needed a man who was kind and thoughtful. Not a hothead.” He smiled tenderly. “I wanted to be that man. I tried, honey. I tried to be patient and knew you’d really come here to apologize, make it all up to me. You did. Just being sweet you. Then you got scared that night at the Long Horn.”
“I felt like such a sniveling kid. I hated that you might fight with Jeff, and I couldn’t tell you why. Not all of it. I was so used to blocking out my past. The merest hint that someone would hit someone else and break their jaw or give them a black eye rattled me. Made me want to run. I can’t breathe. I panic.”
“But you have to know that I was ready to fight that night. But I won’t be anymore. Promise.”
“When someone does you wrong. Insults you then you see red—anyone would.”
“Not like I did years ago. I was out of control. Had to learn how to be a gentleman.” He grasped her shoulders again. “Maybe you did me a favor writing that article, huh? Kicked me over the edge with it. Made me see I had to change my ways.”
Tears dribbled down her cheeks. “I wanted to tell you, but my pride wouldn’t let me admit I was wrong.” She sank against him, her face to his warm throat. “So wrong.”
She sobbed for a bit, and he let her, just holding her and caressing her back. It felt so wonderful to be embraced by him again, she curled her arms around him and let him absorb her.
“I was wrong too,” he told her softly, “not to tell you how much I cared about you. I tried to show you instead. But I could see you were afraid that if you told me, I’d get angry at you. And you didn’t want to risk that, did you?”
“No, I wanted you to think the best about me.”
“Darlin’, don’t you know? I think the world of you and more.” He kissed her ear and hugged her closer. “I’m gonna get better at telling you and showing you that every day, every hour. I promise. If we talk as much as we make love, we won’t quarrel and you won’t become afraid we’re going to argue.”
“It’s true. I would rather talk our heads off and make love than fight.”
“Well, we don’t have to fight, do we? In fact, I think we just did. And now I can hold you, and you can tell me anything, darlin’. I should have said that the day you told me about your parents, but I was so bone-headed. I was hurt you had told me secrets and yet you were leaving me—I could feel it. And I wanted to keep you for myself. I should have told you that morning.” He reached in one of his pockets and gave her a white handkerchief.
She blew her nose, hiccupped and looked up at him. “You did, and I didn’t meet you halfway. I should have.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Promise you will from now on?”
“Absolutely.” She hiccupped again.
He set her away from him and walked over to his desk then hitched a hip on the edge. “So then, here’s the next part.”
She hiccupped. “What part?”
“You promise to meet me halfway in any argument? Anything we have to decide?”
“Yes,” she agreed, though she didn’t understand where he was headed.
“Good. Then promise me two more things.”
“Anything.”
“That you’ll never leave me.”
It took her a minute to feel the sweet impact of that promise. “Never.”
“That you’ll never hurt me again.”
“No. Never.” She fought back more tears.
“Because if you ever go anywhere again without me, Shana, I think I’ll die.” His face was blank with desolation.
&nbs
p; “Oh, Chet. How could I leave you? I love you!”
She began to fall apart again as he came over and caught her up in his arms, tears brightening his own eyes. “Say that again.”
And when she did, he kissed her once more. “Say you’ll marry me.”
“Oh, you’ll have me?” she asked like it was the one thing she could never hope for.
“Aw, honey. I will have you all the days of my life.”
“And you forgive me?”
“I love you. I would forgive anything you do, darlin’.”
She flung her arms around his neck, suddenly saucy with the prospect of having him for a husband. “So then, can we get married soon?”
“Soon as I can get a license.”
“That’s good.”
Her objective tone made him look down and blink. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because I need a place to live.”
He raised his brows.
“I let go of my apartment in San Antonio. My aunt’s ranch in Uvalde is two hours away, and I have no accommodations here in Hayward.”
“Hmm, I do see that.” He played along.
She fiddled with one of his shirt buttons. “And I’m also really proud of you for getting a raise and a bonus…”
“Okay,” he chuckled. “I’m ready, baby, tell me why.”
“Because I quit my job yesterday, and I have no money, and no place to hang my hat.”
He threw back his head to laugh now and caught her up to swing her around. “You come home with me, darlin’, and you won’t need a hat.”
“Or any other clothes?” She brushed his blond hair back from his brow.
“You got that right. I’m gonna put you in my bed and keep you naked for at least the next eighty years.”
“Can we start now with that, Chet? I need to show you how much I love you.”
“You show me every time you look at me, Shana.” He took her hand to lead her out the door. “Let’s go home, honey.”
The best words she’d heard in all her life.
About Cerise DeLand
What’s an East Coast gal to do to if she lives deep in the heart of Texas, travels often everywhere, and adores Paris, Florence, London, Tokyo and all points east and west?
Do Him Right Page 9
