Rough Rider (3 page)

“What do you mean?”

His mouth moved, but the announcer's blaring voice drowned out his reply.

“Next up is last year's CNFR champion bull rider, Grady Garrison of Three Forks, Montana, coming into the short round on Rio Bravo.”

Janice grinned. “Speak of the devil…”

“Yeah,” he said. “And he's about as much trouble.”

Janice grimaced. “Look, Dirk, I've been around long enough to recognize his type. Grady blows about as much hot air as a Chinook.”

His gaze narrowed. “Don't be fooled. He does blow a lot of smoke, but his bad boy
act
isn't an act, and he doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut either.”

Her temper flared. If Dirk didn't want her, why shouldn't she go out with Grady? A drink or two was no big deal. “You didn't take my advice about the bull, why should I take yours?”

“Because you're a
nice
girl, Janice,” he replied. “I'd hate for him to change that.”

On those parting words, Dirk tipped his hat and limped away to join some teammates, leaving a dull ache in Janice's chest. “That may be,” she whispered to his back, “but it seems nice girls always finish last.”

* * *

Grady's ride was the final event of the rodeo. He'd pronounced with his perpetual smirk that it was because they saved the best for last. Although Janice would like to have seen him pulled down a notch, he finished with another strong performance, riding and spurring his bull all the way to the whistle, and then dismounting with exaggerated panache for a score of eighty-eight points.

With the final scores called, the spectators slowly dispersed from the arena. While the rough stock contenders packed up their gear, Janice fell back into the dirty and mundane routine of sorting and penning her bulls for the next haul. Dirk had joined the others behind the pens where the cowboys exchanged good-natured ribbing and swapped stories about their respective rides.

“So you coming or not?” Grady surprised Janice from behind.

“Where?” she asked.

“To the party.”

“Oh, that. I said I'd think about it if you
beat
Dirk. You didn't. You tied.”

“That may be but I damn sure rode better than him, and you know it. Hell, it was the bull that made
his
ride. I had to spur the shit out of the dink I drew to get anything out of him.”

Janice grudgingly acknowledged that Grady had milked the most out of his ride. Rio was a highly respected bucking bull, but he was approaching retirement.

“Let me on
that
badass motherfucker”—he nodded to Mag—“and you'll see a
real
ride.”

“If you're going to Thermopolis, you might get your chance.”

“Is that where you're headed next?”

“Yup,” she said. “My ol' man scored a contract with a bigger outfit. We're to supply a dozen bulls for the summer circuit. I'll be hauling them down the road—Thermopolis this week, then Sheridan, Cody, and Cheyenne for Frontier Days. After that, we'll be back in Montana from Cowboy Christmas till the finals.”

“Then you're in luck, Sweet Cheeks. I'm heading to Thermopolis too. I need to rack up some points and paychecks if I want to get into the pro bull circuit.”

“You planning on ridin' bulls full-time now?”

“Yeah. Unlike Pretty Boy there, with his ranch to fall back on, I got nothing else. I gotta earn my own bread and ridin' bulls is what I was meant to do. I'm hoping that by summer's end I'll qualify for the new Rough and Rank circuit out in Vegas. That's where the real money is.”

“And bulls no one can ride,” she countered.

“Hell, they're all just some cow's calf, ain't they? 'Sides, some cowboy's gotta ride 'em.”

“And you think that's you?”

He smirked. “All the way to Vegas, baby.”

“What about Dirk? Is he going to Thermopolis too?”

“Nah. Says he has other plans.”

“But I thought you were traveling buddies.”

“We were. We've been rodeoin' together 'bout four years, but I'm bent on doing only bulls and he ain't no pro bull rider. Too big for it. He only rode this year to qualify for the All-Around, so it looks like we'll be parting ways.”

“What's he going to do?”

He shrugged. “Hell if I know. Probably a bunch of that PR fundraising shit with Rachel. Says he'll probably meet up with me for Cowboy Christmas though. We've always done that circuit together. The situation really sucks for me since we've always shared expenses.”

“Guess you'll be looking for a new buddy?”

He considered her for a moment and grinned. “Think I already found one.”

“Who?” she asked.

“You, Sweet Cheeks. Given you and me's goin' in the same direction, I'll be ridin' with you now.”

“
With
me?
Funny, I don't recall inviting you, Grady.”

“We'll split the expenses. Only makes sense to share a ride. Whadaya say we talk about it over those drinks you promised to have with me.”

“I never promised anything. Besides, I can't drink if I'm driving, especially not while hauling stock.”

“It's only two hours to Thermopolis,” he said. “We can party tonight and head out first thing in the morning.”

“But I don't have any decent clothes,” she protested. “I can't exactly show up at the Plaza with shit-covered boots.”

“Who you lookin' to impress? You already got
m
y attention.”

She snorted. “Am I s'posed to be flattered by that?”

He considered the question. “Maybe flattered ain't quite what I had in mind.”

“No? Then what am I supposed to feel?”

“This.” Grady's mouth came down on hers in a confident, almost aggressive kiss that tasted vaguely of wintergreen tobacco. Taking advantage of her surprise he plunged his tongue into her mouth. Warm, wet, and slick, it tangled with hers. Caught off guard, Janice softened involuntarily. Shutting her eyes she imagined for a moment that it was Dirk kissing her and Dirk's arms around her. Grady deepened the kiss, cupping her ass, and hauling her against him. He was growing hard and his mouth more insistent.

Realizing where this was headed, Janice panicked, shoving hard against his chest to break the kiss. “I didn't invite that, Grady.”

“Liked it though, didn't ya? Seems to me you took your sweet time deciding when to quit.”

She flushed, furious with him, but even more with herself. “I told you I'd have a drink with you, and a drink is all I meant.”

“C'mon, Janice,” he cajoled. “I only want to show you a good time. Sweet thing like you shouldn't spend the evening alone.”

His words weren't without effect. She'd spent countless nights alone watching her portable TV and staring at the ceiling of her stock trailer.

“What makes you think I'm looking for that?” she retorted.

He grasped her shoulders, his fingers firm and his gaze hard. “You seein' someone?”

She hesitated, her gaze darting to Dirk who lingered in the background. His eyes met hers in a scowl that made her bristle. “No. I'm not.”

“That's good news, Sweet Cheeks.” Grady brushed a thumb over her lips. “'Cause the way I see it, we might as well get to know each other better—being that we'll be doing the circuit together and all.”

“Can't you take a hint, Grady? I'm not attracted to you that way.”

“Yeah you are.” He grinned. “Your body already told me so. Your head just don't know it yet.”

Janice stared at him dumbfounded. “You are the cockiest damned cowboy I've ever met.”

She'd never known a man as full of himself as Grady Garrison. While her attraction to him was nothing compared to what she felt for Dirk, she wasn't completely immune to his confident charm. He'd also made his interest in her as clear as Dirk had made his indifference. If Dirk didn't want her, why shouldn't she flirt a little with Grady?

He flashed his big, bad grin. “It ain't cocky, sweetheart, when you
are
the best.”

* * *

Dirk watched Grady and Janice with a vague feeling of irritation. Hadn't he warned her about him? He'd traveled with Grady long enough to know exactly how he operated. Grady might not be the biggest or best-looking guy on the circuit, but his bad-boy attitude never failed to attract female attention. Like his bull riding, he scored far more often than not, and just like the bulls, once he'd conquered one, he was always looking for the next challenge—and that was all Janice was to him.

Dirk had known her since high school where she'd proven a real hand with a rope. In the past year of working the rodeos with her ol' man, she'd proven herself again, winning all the cowboys' respect. It was no small feat and he hated to see that hard-earned regard destroyed—but it would be, once Grady started running his mouth off about her.

He told himself it was none of his business, but still felt a compulsion to break his buddy's face when Grady made his move. He forced himself to look away. He'd hoped she wouldn't make that mistake, but now it was out of his hands. Turning his back to the couple, he grabbed his rigging bag. “You comin' or not, Grady?” He threw the question over his shoulder. “Rachel's waiting on me.”

“Go on without me,” Grady replied. “I'm hitching a ride with Janice. I'm gonna help her finish up here and then we'll head on out.”

Dirk turned back asking Janice, “Need an extra hand?”

Grady gave him a look that said “back off” in no uncertain terms. “I got her covered. 'Sides, you won't be any help anyway with only one good arm and a busted-up hand. Go on ahead, and we'll catch up with you. We'll be done directly.”

“You sure about that?” Dirk sought Janice's confirmation, hoping she'd change her mind.

“Yeah. You can go on, Dirk. Grady's agreed to help me out in return for a lift to Thermopolis. Until you two get back together on the circuit, I'm his new ride.”

“His new ride, huh?”
More
than
you
know, sweetheart
. Dirk bit back the retort that hung on his tongue.

“Oh yeah,” Grady replied with a coyote grin. “It's gonna work out real good.”

The two men stared one another down until Dirk reminded himself it was no skin off his hide what they did. He still couldn't figure out why he felt so protective about a girl he hardly knew but then shrugged it off, wincing at the reminder of his injury before tossing his bag over his
good
shoulder.

* * *

Janice looked after Dirk wondering if she'd misjudged him, if somehow she'd made a mistake. It was like he said one thing but really meant another. Only an hour ago he'd insisted he was involved exclusively with Rachel, but his whole demeanor had changed when she'd mentioned traveling with Grady. He'd seemed almost pissed off about it.

Why should he care if they traveled together? Was it just a fraternal kind of concern? If so, he was acting damned hypocritical. He'd accused her of acting like his mother only to turn around and take a similar posture—one she didn't want or need. She certainly didn't need any head games. At least Grady made clear what he was after. She assured herself she could handle him. She was used to looking out for herself.

Dirk had ruffled her feathers, but she shook it off to concentrate on work. Twenty minutes later she pulled off her leather gloves and brushed the dirt from her jeans.

“Can you give me a few minutes to shower and change?” she asked Grady. “I've got some clean clothes in my trailer. I'm not about to go to a fancy party reeking of the stock pens.”

“Sure thing,” he replied. “I'm going to hit the locker room and grab a quick shower myself. Don't make me wait too long.” Grady placed a callused hand on the small of her back. “I've got a real thirst tonight for a whiskey…” He raked a hungry gaze slowly over her five-foot-eight-inch frame. “And a tall drink of water.”

After a quick shower, Dirk threw on some fresh Wranglers, toweled his head with his good arm, and then scowled at the fifty-dollar button-down from the George Strait collection laid out on the bed for him—the one Rachel had purchased at the Wrangler Fashion Show. She'd presented it as a gift, and expected him to wear it tonight. He felt a surge of resentment at the subtle ways she'd begun controlling him.

It seemed everyone had expectations of him these days.

Big. Expectations.

Although they'd not actually talked about it, with his graduation and now the rodeo win, they'd all be anticipating a move on his part, most likely tonight, but the idea of hobbling himself at age twenty-two, even to Rachel, galled him to no end.

They'd been together off and on since high school. She was the girl every guy had wet dreams about. Gorgeous, bright, and bubbly, she'd won Miss Teen Rodeo in high school and now wore the crown for the state of Montana. On top of all that, her parents were loaded. Rachel's ol' man flew her around on his Beechcraft Baron twin-engine during her queen campaign and tonight his money paid for a fully catered shindig for family and friends.

Dirk had sensed their disapproval of him from the get-go, but after four years, her parents had grudgingly accepted him. But the feeling that they expected him to be grateful about it irked the hell out of him. Although his family wasn't stinking rich like hers, they were still highly respected fourth-generation ranchers with a decent spread and a fairly profitable operation—by current ranching standards anyway.

He considered the expensive dress shirt, weighing the ire he'd incur from Rachel if he didn't wear it. In the end, he threw down his towel, pulled a black tee out of his bag, sniffed it, and then grunted through the pain of pulling it on over his head. He knew he'd draw some severe looks by not dressing up, but he had a point to make. Like a hardmouthed mule, he wasn't about to cave to the pressure. There would be no proposal. No engagement announcement tonight. Eventually. Maybe. But damn sure not tonight.

* * *

Janice brushed out her hair, applied a bit of blush and mascara, and then eyed herself in the mirror with a feeling of dismay. She wore her favorite pearl-button Western shirt with clean, if faded, jeans. Her only adornment, proudly worn, was the gold-buckled belt she'd won for breakaway roping at the high school rodeo. She'd polished up her ropers and dusted off a hat that was in bad need of reshaping. She wished now that she'd brought her “town” hat. Deciding she'd do better to go without, she cast the hat aside.

She hadn't expected the party invitation and wished she'd brought nicer clothes, but she really didn't have anything suitable at home anyhow. The only dress she owned was the one she'd worn to the senior prom three years ago, but she'd filled out so much since then that it probably didn't fit anymore. She wondered what the other girls would be wearing, then told herself it didn't matter. No one would be looking at her. She'd just fade into the background, stay for one quick drink, and then make a quiet departure. Alone.

Although Grady hadn't called it that, Janice realized with a pang that this was her first real date since that same senior prom—a blind date set up by her best friend, Kelly. It had turned into the longest night of her life, spent fighting off her date's sloppy kisses and groping hands in the backseat, while Kelly and Tom made out in the front. Danny, or maybe it was Donny, had called her a few times afterward, but she'd made enough excuses that he'd eventually given up.

After graduation she'd been too busy on the ranch even to think about guys. That was not to say any had ever given much thought to her, even though she'd dealt with dozens of cowboys since she'd begun helping her ol' man. Sure, she'd exchanged playful banter while loading and flanking the stock, but it had never progressed beyond light flirtation. It had always been business.

Janice Lee Combes, twenty-one years old and barely kissed—least until now.

Grady had certainly kissed her like he meant business but her instincts told her he wasn't one to invest his time and effort without expectation of a return. She had a sinking feeling she'd have a big decision to make before the night was out.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that—or how prepared she really was to deal with it. She'd be lying to herself if she denied being flattered. She'd blown plenty of smoke earlier too. It was nice to have some attention, to be thought of as a girl, for once.

On cue, Grady rapped on her trailer door. “You ready yet, Sweet Cheeks?”

“Yeah. Be right there.”

She didn't know why she'd allowed him to continue calling her that. “Sweet Cheeks” was annoying as hell—but mildly gratifying too. Maybe it was just the novelty, the fuzzy feeling of actually having a pet name. Even her parents had never called her anything but Janice or Janice Lee.

She fluffed her hair, applied a bit of lip gloss, then grabbed the new tooled-leather purse she'd bought earlier at the vendor booths. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile and opened her trailer door. “I'm ready.”

“You look good enough to eat.” Grady flashed that coyote grin again—the one that made him look like a predator who indeed planned to make a meal of her. For the second time Janice wondered if she might actually be in over her head. She'd be wise to listen to that little voice.

One
drink
, she repeated, and then she'd leave the party. Alone.

* * *

Dirk paused at the entrance to the Plaza ballroom. There were a couple hundred guests, but he only recognized a handful of them. The collegiate bigwigs and all the rodeo officials had made an appearance, as well as members of the local press. Other than a handful of Dirk's rodeo buddies, the rest were the kind of people who never got their hands dirty—the highbrow, hobby-ranch society types that he didn't know…or much care to. Although it was a post-rodeo celebration, he guessed most of the people had never seen the inside of a livestock arena. They were the kind who watched it on their wall-mounted ultrahigh-def TVs—like the one that now played a slo-mo loop of his earlier hang-up.

Shit.

With a mix of annoyance and embarrassment, Dirk pulled his hat over his eyes and dug his hands deep into his pockets, hoping to slink past the group surrounding the TV. Was it only an hour ago he'd been lying in the arena splattered with his own blood? Now the sounds of jangling spurs were replaced by the clink of crystal, and the noise of lowing cattle with the buzz of conversation punctuated with ripples of laughter.

He scanned the crowd for Rachel, locating her across the room with her mother and a group of expensively dressed women he didn't recognize. A photographer was snapping pictures as they sipped champagne. Rachel flashed her rodeo queen smile for the camera.

He stopped in his tracks. God, she was gorgeous.

The sight of her always stole Dirk's breath, but tonight she was particularly hot in a body-hugging red and white leather dress. A white felt Stetson topped her head and her hair fell in a sexy blond cascade over her shoulders. His gaze lingered in appreciation of a sight he thought he'd never tire of—and one he longed to get a whole lot more of in private. His imagination took hold, conjuring a vision of her wearing only the hat, the boots, and the smile—a smile that instantly froze when she noticed him.

Her gaze raked him head to toe. She broke from the group and rushed toward him. “My God!” she whispered. “What happened to your face?”

“A bull named Magnum Force
happened
.” He jerked his head to the TV. “Hard to believe you missed it.”

She looked chagrined. “I got here late and only saw the replay after the ride was over. Of course I was concerned, but Wade said you were fine.” Her forehead wrinkled. “By the look of you, he lied.”

“I've been a helluva lot better, but I'll survive.”

“Poor baby.” Her lips formed a sexy pout. “Maybe there's something I can do to make it all better?”

“Oh yeah, Sunshine. I can think of all kinds of things.”

He leaned down to kiss her mouth but she turned her cheek instead.

“Remember Mama and Daddy,” she hissed under her breath.

“You don't think they know we kiss? We've only been dating four years.”

“Almost five,” she corrected. “And of course they do, but I have to take my reputation very seriously. You know how people like to gossip. As the new queen I have to be ultracareful. Speaking of which…” She stepped back, eyeing him with a downward turn of her mouth. “I can't believe you walked in here in a T-shirt! Where's the new button-down I bought you?”

“This is fine,” he said. “It's clean.”

“No it's not, Dirk, and you know it! Maybe you don't realize how important this is to me. That photographer over there is doing a spread on all the state rodeo queens for
American
Rodeo
Today
. He's been waiting to get shots of us together. Why don't you just be a sweetheart and run back upstairs and change.”

“Why don't you just let me have a beer or two first, Sunshine. I could use one after getting mauled tonight.”

“It was only a matter of time,” she retorted. “You know how I hate the bulls. I wish you would quit the rough stock.”

“You never minded before,” he said. “As I recall, it's how I caught your eye to begin with. You
used
to
even come out and watch me.”

“All the girls watched you, Dirk. You were the hottest thing out there—you still are. You wanted to ride bulls this year and you did. You even won the overall. Now you can move on to other things while you're still on top.”

“Who says I
want
to move on?”

Her gaze locked with his. “Don't you?” She twined her left arm around his neck and ran an index finger gently over his broken nose. “Maybe this time it wasn't serious, but you can't afford to take these kinds of risks anymore.”

“Says who?”

“
Says
me
,” she insisted. “If you won't give it up for your own good, then do it for me. I don't want you getting hurt again.”

Although he hadn't planned to ride any more bulls in the summer circuit, he bristled at her attempt to manipulate him, to use his dick to control him—not that his dick had ever gotten its full reward for his compliance.

“I could get hit by a truck crossing the street. I could get struck by lightning walking across my front yard. Point is, I'm not going to live my life in fear of what
might
happen to me.”

She withdrew her arms. “I'm not asking you to, but why tempt fate? That bull could have killed you tonight, Dirk! He might have gored you to death. Do you want to end up like Lane Frost?”

He waved his good hand in annoyance. “You worry too much.”

Her brows met in a frown. “I'm talking to a brick wall, aren't I?”

“Don't you think this conversation is a mite bit hypocritical coming from someone who aspires to be the face and voice of American rodeo?”

“Maybe so, but you have no idea what it feels like to have the one you love risk his life for an eight-second ride. Besides, you know how people tend to judge by association—birds of a feather and all that. You should think about that now.”

His gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Just that the rough stock cowboys are so…so…” She made a face.

“So
what
, Sunshine?”

She sighed. “Do I really have to spell it out?”

“Guess so.”

“Coarse. Crude.”

He winced, a gesture that made his face hurt but her words made his head pound even worse. “Is that how I rate with you, Sunshine? Coarse and crude? If that's the case, I wonder why you'd lower yourself to be with me.”

“Of course, I don't mean
you
!” she protested. “It was just a generalization about the bull riders. If you still want to rodeo, why don't you switch to roping? You and your brother could team rope together. It attracts a much better class of people. Besides, if you roped Daddy could get you endorsements. He has a lot of connections and even golfs with the CEO of Lariat Ropes.”

Grady's roping joke came to mind. Dirk couldn't suppress a smirk.

“What's so funny?”

“Something Grady said, but I doubt you'd appreciate the humor.”

“Grady?” she scoffed. “I'll bet. And that's precisely what I mean. He's too vulgar and rough. Continued association with him will only drag you down.”

“Now you're concerned about my association with a
champion
bull rider?” Grady was a bit rough around the edges, but most cowboys were.

“He may be a champion today, but what's he going to be tomorrow? Ten years down the road he'll have nothing to show for it but scars, broken bones, and a stupid belt buckle.”

“It's more than the buckle and you know it.”

“But there's more to life than the thrill of the ride, Dirk.”

“Is this you or your father talking now, Sunshine?”

She gnawed her lower lip. “You can't make a living at rodeo—not a decent one anyway.”

“Don't need to. My truck's paid for and I've got a roof over my head as long as I want it.”

“But what about us? Don't you care what I want?”

He felt a pang of conscience. His voice and posture softened. He cupped her cheek. “I do care, but I'm just not ready to think that far ahead yet, Sunshine. Maybe I will be soon, but not right now.”

“But we've both graduated. Isn't it time to think about the future?”

The future? Shit. By the looks of things “the future” was suddenly now. Damned if the sneaky bitch hadn't crept up from behind and caught him with his pants down.