Champion (Studs in Spurs)

Sometimes you have to lose everything to make room for what really matters.

Studs in Spurs, Book 7

Ten years ago, Cooper Holbrook was a player when it came to women, and he knew it. Well enough that he took one look at the hero worship in Hannah Anderson’s eyes, and nipped it in the bud. She was no buckle bunny, and he wasn’t the man for her or her young son.

The years have caught up with the former champion bull rider. At forty, he’s got nothing left but a broken-down ranch to go with the friendless, near penniless, broken man he’s become.

Hannah has carried a flame for Cooper since the moment the stubborn cowboy took her son on as a bull riding student. Way back then, she saw the good man beneath the bad-boy exterior.

Now she’s finally going to do something about her feelings. Cooper might think his life is over, but Hannah sees more for him—for them, together. And she’s not giving up until he sees it too.

Warning: Contains a decade’s worth of pent-up sexual tension that’ll be smoking up when it comes charging out of the chute!

Champion

Cat Johnson

Dedication

For all the readers who have welcomed me and my bull riders into their lives.

Chapter One

Ten years ago

“Coop.” Glen leaned into the living room from the kitchen doorway. “We’re outta beer.”

“We can’t be.” Cooper eyed the four empty bottles on the table next to him. Two were his and two belonged to the girl he’d brought home. “We had like two twelve-packs last I looked.”

“Yeah, we did. Yesterday. We’re all out now.” Glen hooked a thumb toward the kitchen. “Go look for yourself if you don’t believe me. The fridge is empty.”

Cooper wasn’t sure it was worth the effort to get off the sofa and out from under the woman draped across his lap. But if his business partner and best friend was correct in his evaluation of the beer situation, one of them had to go out and get more, and it didn’t look like Glen was offering. That Glen was shirtless, barefoot and wearing nothing but boxer shorts told Cooper he’d most likely been naked just moments before.

It would be easier for Cooper to run out since he was still dressed, right down to his boots. Well, dressed except that his belt was undone and the fly on his jeans hung wide open. He hadn’t bothered to fix any of that, figuring it would be a waste of time. The woman next to him on the sofa didn’t seem like she was near done with him yet.

It was still early for a Saturday night. If they really were out of beer, that meant they wouldn’t have any for the remainder of the weekend and wouldn’t be able to buy more. He wasn’t riding tomorrow, so he’d definitely be drinking.

Stupid ass, archaic liquor laws. He would think in the year 2004 a man would be able to purchase a damn six-pack on a Sunday if he wanted. The alcohol laws in Arkansas were tough and random, depending on where you were. Coop supposed he should be grateful he didn’t live in one of the many, many totally dry counties in this state.

The final deciding factor was that he needed a little recovery time that the buckle bunny next to him didn’t seem to want to give. Just a few minutes ago, she’d sucked him off, yet her hands had still been all over him when Glen had walked in and interrupted her. A man Coop’s age, and one who’d consumed a bit of beer, could use maybe an hour to get revved up again for round two. Hell, at least half an hour would be nice.

“I’ll go.” Cooper braced one hand against the arm of the sofa and hoisted himself from beneath the girl.

“A’ight. Get enough for tomorrow too since it’s Sunday.”

“I know.” Coop scowled at Glen. “Why the hell you think I’m going tonight?”

“Just checking. You okay to drive?” Glen eyed him more closely.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He’d built up a good tolerance over the years. It took more than a couple of beers consumed over a span of hours to get him drunk.

“A’ight.” Glen spun and headed back to his bedroom where he had a tidbit of his own waiting for him.

“You coming, darlin’, or you staying here?” Cooper asked his companion for the evening as he zipped his fly and buckled his belt.

She’d sucked his cock like a champ, but he’d be damned if he could remember her name at the moment. It had something to do with a bird. Or maybe a tree or a bush. Lily? Laurel?

Lauralee. That was it. Damn proud of himself for having pulled that information out of his ass, he waited for her answer.

“I think I’ll stay and take a little nap while you’re gone.” Her eyelids were drooping pretty low.

He’d bet the winning payout at the next event that she’d be asleep in two minutes. Unlike him, the girl looked both tired and tipsy. He had a feeling these two girls would be staying the night, unless Glen finished with her friend and she could drive them both home.

The damn waif of a girl likely weighed all of ninety pounds. No wonder a couple of beers had her falling asleep. He didn’t even feel too buzzed from the ones he’d had. But then again, he had bought her and her friend a shot or two back at the bar. That had probably done her in. The hard stuff hit women harder than it did men.

He looked down at her curled up with her bare legs tucked beneath her, her slender arms wrapped around a throw pillow. Her tits were practically nonexistent. She was too skinny, in his opinion. The magazine covers by the cash register at the store always featured models and actresses who were nothing but skin and bones.

When had women stopped wanting to look like women? She was sweet and pretty enough, but Cooper preferred his females with a nice handful of curves on them, not these chicks with their ribs and hip bones sticking out.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers, he supposed. This was an off-week for him. He wasn’t competing in any bull-riding events this weekend. Without the plethora of buckle bunnies hanging around the chutes at the arena looking for attention and throwing themselves at the riders, pickings for companionship could be slim. He and Glen had been lucky to land these two at the local bar.

“A’ight. I’ll be back in few.” Feeling in the pocket of his jeans, he found his wallet right there where he’d left it.

“Okay.” She gave him a halfhearted wave and closed her eyes.

As he scooped the truck keys off the table by the door, he had a feeling she wouldn’t miss him all that much while he was gone.

The trip to the store, only a couple of miles down the road, took all of five minutes. They charged more for everything than at the bigger chains, but this place was convenient. A little too convenient sometimes, if you asked him. To be able to run out and buy beer within two miles of his house meant they probably did it more often than they should. If he’d had to drive the half hour each way to the MegaMart, he wouldn’t be going. Not at this hour and after the beers he already had in him, that was for sure.

He grabbed a chilled eighteen-pack of bottles out of the refrigerated case and plunked it on the counter. The bored-looking teenager wrestled his eyes off the television in the corner for long enough to ring up the purchase on the register. What a shit job this must be for a kid his age. Getting minimum wage for the Saturday night shift at a convenience store while all his friends were probably out having fun.

Cooper thanked the good Lord every time something like seeing this kid miserable behind the counter reminded him how good he had it as a professional bull rider.

Getting paid to do what he loved, being famous and having an unending stream of willing pussy—how could you beat that? You couldn’t. God willing, he’d be able to keep at it for a good long time. He could go to near forty, though that would really be pushing the upper age limits in the sport.

Thoughts of retirement were enough to depress a man, even a world champion like himself. He could have close to ten more years as a pro rider if his body didn’t give out on him. No need to spoil a good Saturday night by worrying about something that far into the future.

He paid the kid and shoved his change into his pocket before grabbing the beer off the counter. Ready to be home again, he headed out to the truck. As he fired up the big diesel engine, he made his game plan. Step one, put the beer in the fridge, minus one more for himself. Step two, get out of these boots and jeans so he could be comfortable, kick his feet up on the coffee table and maybe watch a little television.

If the pretty little thing he’d left behind was still awake, he’d maybe have some more fun with her. If not, no big deal. He’d gotten off once already tonight, and there was always the morning.

Yup. It was a damn good life he had.

Cooper tried to remember that when about a mile from the house, the truck’s engine went dead silent. With the power steering and power brakes gone, it took both hands and a good amount of strength to steer the heavy vehicle to the side of the road. He had to stand on the brake pedal to bring the two-ton pickup to a stop.

“What the fuck?” There was no one in the truck to respond to his question, but he could venture a guess at the answer himself. Something had to be wrong with the computer controlling the electrical system.

Frigging new vehicles. Everything was high-tech and computerized nowadays. One little faulty computer chip could leave a man stranded and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to fix it.

Give him a good old car or truck any day. He could take that thing apart and put it back together again, but not these new pieces of shit. It was all a moneymaking racket, designed to make a man have to bring it in to the dealer to get serviced rather than handle it himself.

He knew he shouldn’t have let Glen talk him into buying this thing. He’d been fine with his old truck. He’d liked that truck. He missed it, especially right now.

Glen had wanted him to buy this piece of crap, so Glen could get his ass dressed and come and get him now. Cooper patted his back pockets, then his front, trying to find his phone. It wasn’t there. He felt in the console under the dashboard. It wasn’t there either.

“Crap.” He must not have brought it. How could he not have? He always left it on the front table by the keys.

A memory hit and Cooper got a clear vision of exactly where he’d left his cell—plugged into the wall in the kitchen because the battery had been almost dead.

“Shit.” He pounded the dash with the palm of his hand. Hell of a lot of good it would do him there. Just his luck. Of all the times that phone had been with him and he hadn’t needed it, now that he did, it wasn’t there.

Maybe whatever was wrong with the truck had been a passing fluke. Taking a shot that his luck had changed, Cooper turned the key in the ignition.

Nothing. Dead silence. The damn engine didn’t even turn over. It looked as if he’d be walking the rest of the way home. A mile carrying an eighteen-pack.

On the upside, this could serve as his exercise for the weekend since he hadn’t done a hell of a lot much else. Trying to look on the bright side only pissed him off more, so he grabbed the beer and got out of the truck.

After locking the door behind him, he pocketed the keys. He let the bad mood consume him with every footstep he took toward home.

Cooper resisted the urge to count each and every step so he could rub it in Glen’s face when he finally got there. Glen had talked him into buying the truck. Glen had brought to his attention the fact that they needed beer, and he hadn’t offered to get it himself. This was clearly all Glen’s fault.

You’re making money now, Coop. Why not treat yourself? When could you ever afford a new truck before this?
As he put one boot in front of the other, Cooper remembered the truck conversation with Glen clearly.

Bullshit. Two years old and his new truck was breaking down along the side of the highway. His old truck had never left him stranded like this.

Lights coming up from behind him had Coop turning. Thank God. Maybe whoever it was would give him a ride. He squinted into the glare.

Supporting the weight of the beer in one arm, he stuck his thumb out like a damn hitchhiker and hoped for the best. The car slowed and then pulled onto the shoulder just in front of him.

He jogged to the passenger side. As the window rolled down, he leaned low. “Hey. Thanks for stopping. I broke down. I live just—”

“I know. I saw your truck back there. Get in, Cooper. I’ll take you home.” The familiarity of her voice jostled his memory, though he was having trouble pinning down who it belonged to.

He reached out, grabbed hold of the handle and opened the door. The overhead dome light illuminated a familiar face that had him smiling. “Hey, funny meeting you here.”

“Lucky is more like. You’re close to home, but not close enough to be walking. Especially at this time of night. You could get run down being on foot on this dark road.”

“You ain’t kidding.” Cooper slid into the passenger seat and put the beer on the floor between his feet. Slamming the door, he turned toward the woman he knew, but not nearly well enough. “I feel ridiculous saying this, but I don’t even know your first name.”

She laughed. “That’s not really a surprise. Since Skeeter calls me Mom, there’s no reason you would know my first name.”

“Yeah, and I figured I probably shouldn’t call you Mom too. Now, I could call you Mrs. Anderson—” He cocked a brow and let that suggestion hang in the air, hoping she’d give him an alternative to that formality.

“No.” She shook her head. “I haven’t felt like Mrs. Anderson for quite a few years now. If it weren’t for me wanting to have the same last name as Skeeter, I would have gone back to my maiden name long ago. But anyway, just Hannah is fine.”

“Hannah.” He rolled the name around on his tongue and in his mind. “That’s pretty. I like it.”

That wasn’t any bullshit either, though he’d been known to throw the shit on occasion. Especially if it got him what he wanted with a woman.

Next to him, she shrugged. As she flipped on her directional signal, she glanced in the rearview mirror before pulling out onto the road. “I guess it’s okay. I always wanted something more exotic. My name seems so…sensible.”

Hannah Anderson might be the most sensible woman he’d ever met. He figured he shouldn’t say that, because from what he knew, she lived that way out of necessity, not by choice. Her husband had abandoned her and her son years ago when the kid was only seven. Skeeter, with the indiscretion of youth, had spilled that tidbit during his first bull-riding lesson with Cooper.

Aside from having never heard her first name until now, Cooper had gotten quite a lot of other information regarding this woman from the boy. He’d let out his mother worked two jobs, a day shift and a night shift, six sometimes seven days a week. Obviously, it was a struggle for her to support the two of them as a single mother.

The kid had also informed Cooper that his mother didn’t work Sunday mornings because that’s when they went to church. Meanwhile, Coop’s biggest concern regarding Sunday was that he couldn’t buy beer. They lived in different worlds, him and her, yet they’d somehow collided thanks to one little boy who wanted to learn to ride bucking bulls.

“So, you on your way home from work?” Cooper eyed her waitress outfit. One of those god-awful, ugly blue-and-white polyester dresses diners made their staff wear for some inexplicable reason. Though even in the unflattering dress, he could see she had some damn nice curves on her.

Her light-brown hair was pulled up in a tight bun at the back of her head, just like it always had been when he’d seen her either dropping off Skeeter or picking him up. That was likely because she’d been working one of her two jobs—one as a nurse at the hospital and another at the diner. He supposed both occupations required that her hair be kept up and out of the way.