Taming Rafe (17 page)

For a moment, Kat had the impulse to introduce herself, mention her charity. If Bradley were here, he’d have the man in a conversation, already vying for a donation. “Have you seen Rafe?”

Piper grinned, then glanced at Nick and lowered her voice. “I saw his truck at the rodeo stands.”

Kat turned, intent on heading for the stands, when she felt a change in the crowd. As if everyone had taken a collective breath.

Before her, the crowd parted.

Into the tent walked Lincoln Cash, Hollywood hunk. And beside him, grinning like she might be his tour guide, her blonde hair done up, wearing a skirt, boots, and a jean jacket, Kat’s hostess . . . Miss Lolly Stuart.

John wanted to get on the fastest horse in the county and ride into the sunset at full gallop. But because this was the twenty-first century, he planned on leaving by BMW, driving as far as he could on a tank of gas before he slowed to feel the sting of watching the woman he loved turn adoring eyes on the man who would play Jonas Strong. John’s character. The one
he
created.

John stood at the far side of the tent with Dex Graves, the director of
Unshackled
, and tried to ignore Lolly as she nearly floated into the tent beside the superstar. Like she belonged there all along.

Give him five minutes with Cash and John would rearrange that pretty-boy face. Cash didn’t have the first idea how to make a woman like Lolly happy. Then again, apparently John didn’t either.

He downed his fruit punch, then crumpled the cup in his fist.

“Everything okay?” Dex asked, finishing off his barbecue rib.

“Fine,” John said. “So are you about done shooting the pictures?” They’d done location shots for most of the day, and although Graves planned on filming at the studio in California, he wanted sweeping scenery footage to plug into the background. The fact that it hadn’t rained in nearly a month added to the parched-ground aura the director wanted.

John
felt parched. Every minute he spent with Cash only made him relive that moment when the actor had walked into Lolly’s life and swept her off her feet. Even if Cash had acted momentarily stymied by her offer of free pie, he’d recovered well. Lolly had stood at the counter, leaning on her hand, stars in her eyes, letting Cash see her charm.

John had wanted to strangle him on the spot.

Then Cash had to say, “I’m here working on a film,” which turned Lolly’s curiosity meter on high.

“What kind of film?” she’d asked.

“A Western. A historical romance.” Cash took a bite of pie. “This is delicious.”

“I love romantic Westerns,” Lolly had said, blushing slightly.

John wanted to get up, wave his arms, and shout, “Since when?” But he figured the sooner he slunk out of the diner, unnoticed by Cash, the better. He’d rather be run over by buffalo than leave Lolly alone with Cash, so he sat in the back booth and sulked as Cash told her about the story—enough for Lolly to realize that it was the same one she was reading—the same one she hadn’t yet finished. John forgot to breathe for what seemed like ten minutes until Cash refused to give away the ending.

John would let the man live for that small favor.

John died inside when Lolly said to Cash, with a sort of deep, longing sigh, “When I read the part of Jonas, I instantly thought of you.”

Now that wasn’t fair, not at all.

Only when Cash left had John come out of hiding. But did Lolly notice how he quietly swept the floor and wiped down the tables? She didn’t even sit with him on the porch but went inside her trailer to read that confounded book. It seemed she’d suddenly developed a case of bookworm.

John hadn’t returned to Lolly’s since, afraid of what Cash might be telling her. According to Cash, he’d eaten dinner there the last two nights. He “liked the company,” he’d explained when Dex asked him why he wasn’t dining on the catered food at the Big K.

Sure
, John had thought. He did too.

It seemed, however, that Cash had been tight-lipped about his daily activities, because no one had looked at John twice tonight. He half expected a twitter of laughter. Big John Kincaid, local romance writer.

He was already packing his bags, physically and emotionally. It would help make his exit easier if Lolly hadn’t looked so radiant tonight. Dressed in a brown prairie skirt, a pair of boots, and a tank top under her jacket, she looked about twenty, especially with her blonde hair up and soft around her face. And her smile—oh, his chest hurt.

“I’m going over to the rodeo grounds,” John said to Dex, pitching his cup into the trash.

And do his best not to get into a brawl like Jonas did and lose the woman he loved.

“Dig in deep, hold tight to the wool, and remember it’s okay to be afraid,” Rafe said as six-year-old Tyler Riggs mounted the ewe. The boy panted but wore a gaming spirit in his eyes. “You can do this, sport.”

Tyler nodded, and Rafe freed the ewe. She ran out into the yard, bleating. Tyler dug his heels into her girth, hanging on with all his strength. Seconds later he was sprawled in the dirt.

Rafe hobbled over to him, along with Tyler’s dad. The little guy had begun to whimper, his lower lip trembling. Grant Riggs picked up his son and dusted him off.

Rafe leaned toward him. “It’s okay if it hurts, kid. That’s part of riding. But you did it—you stayed on for nearly five seconds! That’s a win!”

Tyler looked up at him, big eyes glistening. He swallowed and forced a smile. “Really?”

Rafe tugged his hat down. “You betcha. Get over there and get your ribbon!”

Tyler jogged to the fence, where the staff of the Little Tyke Rodeo had a ribbon waiting. Everyone got a ribbon today.

Even Rafe, who wore one that said
Rodeo Instructor
on his shirt. He’d been to dozens of rodeo clinics over the years, but he never tired of the littlest buckaroos trying their hand at mutton bustin’. Their fearful eyes, their sense of triumph, even when they hit the ground, reminded him of when he’d been young, dreaming big.

Too big.

“Me next!” A little girl with long brown braids and freckles on her nose climbed the gate.

Rafe glanced at her mother, who shrugged. “Why not?” He opened the gate. “We’re an equal opportunity stain maker.” He leaned over. “What’s your name, cowgirl?”

“Sammy.”

“Sammy, you ever ridden a ewe before?”

She shook her head.

“Okay, then, listen close.” Rafe explained the basics—how to dig her hands into the wool, grip her legs around the animal’s body. “You ready?” he asked as he lifted her onto the animal. She felt so small, so light. A bird.

“I’m ready!” Her high voice, rife with enthusiasm, made him smile.

He opened the gate, and the ewe rocketed out of the chute.

Rafe watched as little Sammy glued herself to the animal, fighting to stay on until she’d nearly dragged the animal over with her.

“Good job, Sammy!” he hollered, hopping over to her.

She stood up, fairly glowing. “Let’s do that again!”

Rafe laughed. “We’ll see. Go get your ribbon.”

Sammy took off, and her mother waved her thanks to Rafe.

What might it be like to have a little girl like her, with long brown braids, freckles on her nose?

“Rafe!” Stefanie stood at the corral, one leg up on the rail. She wore a pair of straight-leg jeans, a black T-shirt that showed off her tan, and her long black hair loose under a straw hat. “I brought you supper.”

Rafe ducked through the gates. “Thanks.” He took the plate of baked beans, potato salad, and a brat and walked over to his father’s red truck. Looking past her to the crowd in the parking lot, he scanned for—

“She’s talking to Lincoln Cash.”

“What, oh, who?” He forked some beans into his mouth.

“You know who. Kitty. Lolly was with Cash, and I guess she wanted Kitty to meet him or something. They’re sitting in the stands.”

Rafe didn’t respond, taking a bite of potato salad. He knew Cash better than some and certainly better than he’d let on to Piper and Kitty. His gaze explored the stands. Sure enough, Kitty sat with Lolly and Cash. Cash’s hands moved in wild gesticulation. Probably turning on the charm, like he did with all the ladies.

His potato salad stuck in his throat, choking off his air supply. He swallowed it, then looked at himself. Dusty from his jeans to his once-clean gold shirt, he wore a knee brace and had practically hobbled out of the corral.

Rafe supposed that next to Lincoln Cash he might seem . . . less than star quality. Even a has-been. Cash might be feeding Kitty lurid stories of a former, yet too-recent, Rafe Noble.

Rafe set his plate on the tailgate, his appetite gone. He wasn’t a has-been. Yes, he might have a few chips, be one step slower, but if Kitty thought he couldn’t be a champion again . . .

He turned to Stefanie. “Tell Kitty to keep her eyes on the bull riders tonight.” He dropped his plate into the garbage before Stefanie could respond and headed straight for the rodeo officials.

Hang on to your hat, Kitty, because Rafe Noble, GetRowdy bull-riding champ, has a show for you tonight.

“He’s going to do
what
?” Kat sat in the stands, trying to comprehend Stefanie’s words, tossing the what-ifs through her brain.

What if Rafe rode a bull again and got hurt? What if she told him how she felt, how she had turned into a fan of the real Rafe Noble, and begged him not to ride? What if she stayed here, started a life as Kitty Russell?

She didn’t want to think about the what-ifs.

Kat looked for Rafe in the cluster of cowboys by the announcers’ booth. “Why does he suddenly feel the need to risk his neck? Is it the money?”

“I doubt it. The prize tonight is a whopping two thousand dollars.” Stefanie glanced at Lincoln Cash, and Kat thought she saw a slight blush on her face. “He was just eating dinner, and he looked over, saw you, and all of a sudden, he’s GetRowdy’s famous bull rider in action.”

Kat had thought Rafe looked more like the poster boy for the Boys & Girls Clubs. She’d watched him help the kids ride the sheep, and she’d turned all gooey inside.

She needed to get some media out here to shoot footage of
him playing with the kids. She even had visions of flying some of the healthier Mercy Doctors patients to the Silver Buckle so Rafe could teach them to rope. The fresh air and wide spaces certainly wouldn’t hurt their treatment. She knew Rafe would make the perfect Breckenridge Foundation fund-raiser. Soon he’d know it too. If he lived that long, the idiot.

“He’s going to hurt himself,” Kat said almost to herself. Rafe’s words the day he’d taught her to ride the bull zeroed into her thoughts. “He could get killed.”

Stefanie shook her head. “He’s about as hardheaded as those bulls he rides.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Lincoln Cash asked.

“Rafe’s injured—or at least was injured,” Kat answered, not elaborating on the circumstances behind Rafe’s wounds. It didn’t matter anymore.

“He had knee surgery just a couple of weeks ago,” Stefanie added.

“Are we talking about Rafe Noble? bull rider?” Cash asked.

“You know him?” Stefanie asked.

Kat stood up, searching for Rafe. Why would he—?

“Rafe and I are old friends. He consulted on a movie I did a few years ago. If I remember right, he and I were interested in the same makeup artist.” Cash smiled.