by Becky McGraw
Dylan was about to dissuade him of that notion.
“This is boring. I want to ride a fucking bull,” Brandon whined, and the man’s voice scraped along Dylan’s nerve endings like rusty nails. “That’s what I came here for, and all you’ve given me is this stupid machine. I’m ready for some action.”
This guy thought he was a badass when he was really just bad. In attitude, listening skills and performance. He needed to be taken down a few notches, or that overconfidence could get him hurt when he finally did get on the real thing. He’d stayed on so far, but that was only because Dylan had taken it easy on him, hoping he would get the hang of it. This guy thought he had done that after the first time he didn’t get thrown.
Dylan held his temper and huffed out a breath. “You’ve got to keep the bull underneath you. Ride the buck, and control your upper body. This is just a damned bucking machine. If you can’t do that on the machine, how do you think you’re going to do it when you ride the real thing?”
Brandon’s chin inched up. “I haven’t been thrown yet,” he challenged.
Dylan was about to teach this asshole a lesson. “You stay up this time, and I’ll put you on a bull.” He walked back to the control box and stood behind it. With a lifted brow and a tight smile he asked, “You ready?”
Brandon Carter nodded and threw up his free hand. Dylan adjusted the knobs on the machine, then flicked the switch and palmed the joystick. He shoved the lever up a little, and the bull started bucking slowly. Dylan fought the urge to shove the joystick to the top. Just barely. He rolled it and the bull spun to the right. When the bull circled, the cocky look on Brandon Carter’s face and the challenge in his eyes broke the tight rein Dylan had on his control. He slammed the lever upward, then jammed the joystick into the right slot, before sliding it quickly to the left. Adrenaline and satisfaction shot through Dylan to see the look on Brandon’s face as he spun in a wild circle, and his free hand dropped to grab the rigging.
To his credit, Carter managed to hang on just fine for two left-bucking spins, but then mid-circle, Dylan switched directions. The man’s body slid to the left. Dylan quickly reversed and swung the bull full-circle. He wanted to laugh at the man’s loud curse as he flew off the bull, landing hard on his right shoulder in the dirt. Carter immediately scrambled to his feet and shot a hot glare at Dylan. “You did that on purpose,” he grated as he walked toward Dylan holding his shoulder.
“I’m operating the machine, of course I did it on purpose. You wanted a real bull ride,” Dylan replied with a shrug. “I just gave you one.”
“I’m going to talk to Joel. I paid a lot of fucking money for you to teach me how to ride bulls, and I think you don’t have a damned clue how that’s done.”
Brandon was probably right, but he wasn’t telling him that. “I’ve rodeoed since high school. I know a helluva lot more than you do. Don’t think because I’ve taken it easy on you that you’re ready. You’ve still got a long way to go,” Dylan replied.
“Joel will find someone else to teach me, or I want my money back. I paid to ride live bulls, and you’re wasting my time. I only have three days left.”
Dylan fought the urge to get him in the chute and put him on the rankest bull they had, which wasn’t rank at all because they only had Mexican practice bulls. He wasn’t going to really hurt the guy though. Brandon Carter’s ego wasn’t any match for two thousand pounds of angry bull, and Joel would kill him. It was his job to save the asshole from hurting himself, then suing the ranch, even though he’d signed his life away in the liability waiver.
“You talk to Joel. He isn’t going to do a damned thing for you. I’m in charge of the bull riding adventure, and I’m responsible to make sure you don’t get injured. That’s what I’m doing—my job.”
“No, I think you’re jealous because I’m probably better than you are. You’re a washed up has been who can’t hang with the big dogs anymore,” the cocky bastard said loudly. Sheedy walked out of the barn, staggered then stopped. Dylan realized he must’ve heard what Brandon said, because he just stood there with his mouth hanging open.
Anger surged up to choke Dylan. It took a minute for his brain to actually wrap itself around the fact the man had just said what he’d said. “You clear it with Joel, and I’ll ride against you. We’ll see who’s better, asshole.” Dylan was damned sorry there was no way in hell Joel was going to agree to it, because he would love nothing better than making this bastard eat his words.
Excitement sparked in Brandon’s brown eyes as he turned to stomp off toward the big house. Sheedy walked up beside him. “Man that guy is a tool, huh?”
“His stupidity goes way beyond that.”
“Better you than me,” Sheedy said with a laugh. “Glad he didn’t want to be a tie-down roper. Guess that wasn’t exciting enough for him.”
“Well, if he keeps going the way he’s going, he’ll have more excitement that he can handle. If the bull doesn’t stomp his ass, I’m afraid I might.”
“Don’t let him goad you into being stupid too, man. You have the upper hand here, keep it. Let Joel handle it.”
Dylan nodded and started toward the big house too, figuring he’d better talk to his boss before Brandon Carter got to him. It was early, so Joel was probably in the gym. Dylan thought he might be able to cut Brandon off at the pass, if he took a shortcut through the spa, instead of using the front door of the big house. Pushing open the door of the salon, Dylan walked inside and was immediately overwhelmed by a toxic combination of perfume, hairspray and some kind of acidic smell that burned his nostrils. Probably hair color or nail polish, he thought, just managing to hold back a gag.
With a quick nod at Sadie, the salon manager, he held his breath and walked-ran toward the hallway that led to the spa rooms and gym. Pushing the door open, he stopped a minute and took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly to get his mind right. He wondered how the hell Sadie worked in there for ten to twelve hours a day. He would probably pass out from the fumes, or spend his day in the bathroom. Give him the smell of horseshit over that any day.
Dylan walked down the dimly lit hallway toward the gym door. At the last hallway to the left before the gym door, a woman walked out of the hall and he almost bowled her over. He grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling, and her hands planted on his chest to steady herself. The towel wrapped above her breasts slid down her body to pool at her feet. Because he was a man, and couldn’t stop them, Dylan’s eyes took a quick pass to her toes. Her heated, damp skin burned his palms. He dropped his hands to wipe them on his jeans, and tried like hell to keep his eyes on her warm brown eyes. It didn’t work. His eyes took a second, slower pass over her delicious curves. His heart did a couple of really heavy thuds inside his chest; his breath came out in a low whistle.
Her face heated as she bent to jerk up her towel and wrap it around herself again. “Watch where you’re going,” she said angrily.
He shoved his hat back on his head and met her gorgeous brown eyes. The curvy little brunette had an attitude to go along with her dangerous curves. “You’re the one who barreled into me, sweet cheeks,” Dylan said with a laugh. “I guess you’re the one who needs to watch where she’s going.”
“You weren’t watching where you were going either, or you would’ve seen me.” She pulled the towel tighter around her body, and tucked the end in between her full breasts. Dylan was sorely disappointed. He’d almost like a redo, have her go back down that hall and run into him again and again. He wanted another look at her.
“In here?” he asked with a hoot. “Not likely.”
It was dark, but Dylan saw all he needed to see. What he’d seen was definitely interesting. Glossy dark hair piled high on top of her head, which he imagined would reach the middle of her back if it were let down, clear porcelain skin that looked like she didn’t get in the sun much, except for the cute freckles dotting across the bridge of her nose. And even though she wasn’t tall, her legs were a mile long. He hadn’t gotten
a good look at her breasts, because she’d covered them with her forearm, but what he’d seen of them had been spectacular. She kind of looked like Terri Rhodes, but a little taller and a little curvier.
Just the kind of woman he liked.
But she was obviously a guest at the ranch, which meant she was off limits. That was too damned bad. His eyes landed on her left hand, which was clutching the towel to her breasts and he saw a large diamond ring and wedding band. And she was married. Probably to some rich man who was too busy making money to pay her attention. So she was out here spending his money as fast as he could make it, buying the attention she wasn’t getting at home, like most of the women who visited the spa at the ranch.
Since she was in the hall to the massage area, Dylan figured she was just finishing up a massage with Tara. He’d had a dose of Tara’s magic hands before himself. Afterwards, he felt like his legs were made of jelly. Tara’s magic evidently hadn’t worked on this woman though. Her smooth shoulders were tense, and her plump mouth unsmiling.
He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to end this little conversation just yet. He knew why, and that he was spinning his wheels here, but he couldn’t stop himself from buying a few more minutes to figure this woman out. “People who finish a massage with Tara are usually a lot more chilled out than you are,” Dylan commented with a laugh.
“I haven’t had one yet,” she replied with frustration. “I fell asleep, and she must’ve just let me nap, instead of waking me for my appointment. I was just going to find her.”
“I’ll go find her for you. You shouldn’t be walking around here like that.” Dylan let his eyes take another tour to her toes, then met hers again. “You look pretty tasty in that towel, sweet cheeks. There are men here too, and they’re always in and out.” He looked above her head on the wall and pointed to the sign that said so. Terri had put up the sign after another similar incident where a naked woman decided to parade herself down the hall to the salon door and ran into Joel. “This is a co-ed spa. Please stay in the spa room assigned, unless you are clothed.”
The woman’s cheeks pinkened more. “I can read, thank you. My clothes are in the facial room,” she replied defensively. “Nobody is back there.”
“You just go back in the massage room, and I’ll find Tara,” Dylan said. He studied her a minute, then grinned. “Unless you want me to stand in for her? My hands are magical too, just in a different way,” he said with a wink, flexing his fingers comically.
He was joking of course, but Dylan would love nothing better than to run his hands over her silky body and learn those curves of hers. But she was a guest at the ranch. Off limits to him, he reminded himself again. And she was married.
He sighed, and wasn’t that too damned bad?
Her eyes narrowed and her full, pink mouth turned down at the corners more, if that was possible. It was obvious this woman was wrapped so tight it would take years to unwind her. Tara was going to have a job working out those kinks.
“Um, no thank you,” she said primly. “Who are you anyway, and what are you doing back here? Shouldn’t you be rustling cows or something?”
“No, ma’am. Bulls are my specialty.”
“I bet bull is your specialty,” she shot back.
One corner of her lips twitched, and a little thrill shot through him. Making this woman laugh would be a challenge, and there was nothing he loved more than that.
She shook her head and sighed, as she turned to walk back down the hall. “If you see Tara, tell her Carrie is awake and ready for her massage.”
Dylan’s eyes latched onto her round ass stretching the towel as it swayed, then slid down her perfect thighs to her tiny feet. Yeah, he could definitely get into seeing what was under that towel again.
Her name was Carrie.
Dylan filed that at the back of his brain. He’d have to casually ask Terri who she was, he thought, as he walked to the door to the gym and went inside to find Joel.
CHAPTER TWO
“What the hell are you doing?” Terri asked with frustration as she walked into the kitchen.
Startled, Carrie spun away from the sink full of dishes. She swiped at her bangs with her forearm. Soapy water dripped all over the shiny tile floor she’d just mopped. With a curse, she yanked the dishtowel off of the counter and dropped to her knees to mop it up.
“I can’t just sit around here like a bump on a log. I’m used to doing things, and I’m here for free. I’m helping you. Penny had to go to town to buy groceries, so I’m making sure she doesn’t come back to a mess.”
Carrie had been there three days now and she missed her kids. She was worried about Chris getting into trouble at Trace’s house. Trace and Ronnie didn’t have kids. She was sure his new wife had never been around kids much. She wouldn’t watch him like Carrie knew he needed to be watched, or know what that wild look he got in his eyes sometimes meant. Carrie knew exactly what it meant, and she should’ve talked to Trace. But she was embarrassed to have to tell him that her son was on the fast track to becoming a juvenile delinquent.
That she was a failure as a mother.
“You are a guest! You’re here to relax!” Terri shouted.
“This is relaxing to me.” Carrie stood back up to set the rag on the counter.
“We have a dishwasher.” Terri walked over to stand beside her, then bent to pull open the door of the dishwasher. “And you do not have to do this!”
“I want to do it, and dishwashers don’t get the dishes clean. You have to wash them before you put them in there anyway. Why not just wash them by hand? They come out cleaner, and it saves electricity.” Carrie never used the dishwasher at home for just those reasons. She was sure this ranch didn’t have to worry about money like she did though.
Terri shook her head and leaned against the counter to fold her arms over her chest. “You need to learn how to relax again, Carrie. Trace was right.”
That made Carrie wonder exactly what Trace and Ronnie had told Terri about her situation. They didn’t know everything. She hadn’t told anyone everything. There wasn’t anyone to tell before them really. But evidently they knew enough to worry Terri with her problems.
Carrie turned back toward the sink to pick up a plate and swish a sponge over it. “I have responsibilities. Trace has no idea what I deal with on a daily basis. He doesn’t have kids. He’ll understand after a week of dealing with them though.” If they were all still alive.
A hand dropped between her shoulder blades. “I’ll make you a deal,” Terri said. Carrie looked at her. “I’ll let you finish these dishes, but after that you are going to relax and forget you even have kids for a week. This week is for you. I’m going to talk to Leigh Ann and get her to set you up for a makeover. You’ll get your hair done, your nails done, then she will take you shopping. A girl’s day out.”
“I can’t afford to go shopping,” Carrie immediately replied.
It was true. She was up to her eyeballs in bills. What she needed to do was find a job. Fast. Sean’s pension just wasn’t cutting it, even though she didn’t have the house anymore. With the money they owed from Izzy’s hospital bills from when she was born, combined with the money she still owed on the house which she sold for less than she owed on the mortgage, back taxes from Sean’s security work on the side, and credit card bills, Carrie was overwhelmed.
If she hadn’t found the eight thousand dollars between Chris’s mattresses when she was searching his room for drugs, she wouldn’t even have been able to make the move to her parents’ ranch. That money had been a godsend.
She still didn’t buy Chris’s story that he found it in Sean’s home office after he died though. Carrie wasn’t that stupid. Her husband didn’t leave that kind of money laying around, even if he was on an undercover assignment. He said before he would never do that, because it might lead the bad guys to their doorstep.
But if Sean had made an exception on that particular job, one that seemed to go on forever, the one that got him
killed, it meant the money belonged to the department. Carrie’s thought process was, if they hadn’t missed it in three years since he died, she needed it more than they did. So she hadn’t reported it, and she hadn’t asked her son any other questions.
Her husband was dead, her bills were due, and her son was in trouble from hanging out with the wrong group of kids at school. Getting the foreclosure notice on the house was just icing on the cake, the final sign it was way past time for her to get the hell out of Dodge. That eight thousand dollars let her be able to do that.
“It’s on me,” Terri said, waking up Carrie from her thoughts. “I’m paying you for working today. God, woman you have almost cleaned the entire house! You’ve been at it since before I got up this morning!”
“I always get up early. Chris and Izzy—“
“Aren’t here,” Terri interrupted with a lifted brow.
That was the problem. Carrie didn’t know what to do with herself without the kids around. She sighed and dropped the sponge into the sink. “This is the least I can do for you letting me stay here this week. I’m paying you back.”
A thought hit her. Maybe that’s what she could do to help herself financially. Carrie liked to clean, was good at it. Maybe she could get a few houses to clean when the kids were at school, but her shoulders slumped again when she realized that wouldn’t work either. Her parents’ ranch was out in the boonies. She’d probably spend as much in gas to get to the houses as she made cleaning them. She’d already nixed the idea of getting a student loan to go back to school, because that would just mean more debt. That would just compound her situation, not help it.
“No, ma’am, you aren’t.” Terri unfolded her arms to push away from the counter. She hugged Carrie’s shoulders. “What you are going to do is have a little fun for a change. Go get ready. Joel’s mom, Curly, has Jayden for the day, so I’m going shopping with y’all too. Tonight we’re going to Smack Daddy’s.”
