The Bull Rider Meets His Match (15 page)

“New design,” Lex said, glad that Grady's sister was making the attempt to talk to her. “I'm trying to branch out.”

“Seek new horizons?” Annie asked. Lex shot her a glance, wondering if there was another meaning behind the words, but Annie's expression was clear.

“Keeping myself busy,” she said honestly. She was all about keeping busy. Enjoying the life she'd made for herself—the store, her farm. Her animals.

Annie held up a bracelet loaded with whimsical Western charms. “I might have you make something special for the twins' birthday if you take special orders.”

“I'd be happy to.”

“I have a few months, but I think something Western like this, but smaller, of course.”

“I'll bring in my charm catalogue,” Lex said, glad that things with Annie seemed to be moving back toward the way they were before she and Grady had hooked up—and that was how she had to think of it. As a hookup.

Later that afternoon during a lull, Lex and Danielle worked on the wedding favors while Annie ran to the school to help with a library hour. And even though it was only the two of them, the back room of the store didn't feel as comfortable as usual. Danielle was deep in thought, her movements quick, almost jerky. Lex was about to ask her if everything was okay between her and Curtis when Danielle suddenly leveled a look at her. A suck-in-a-breath-and-go-for-it look. “You know I'm your friend.”

Lex pressed her lips together and concentrated on tying a bow. Any conversation that started like that was bound to be uncomfortable. As in one that might address things she'd yet to fully come to terms with. “I know,” she said.

“As your friend, I feel that I can say that I'm concerned about you. About this thing with Grady.”

Lex set down the tulle bag. “Because we broke up?”

“Because of the reason why you broke up.”

Lex narrowed her eyes. “We broke up because I didn't want to see him anymore.” Which was entirely her call, her business.

“Because...?”

Lex rolled her eyes. “In the long run it wasn't going to work.”

Danielle cinched a circle of tulle shut, knotted it and reached for another. “With Grady? Or with anyone?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I'm concerned about you shutting down emotionally in order to avoid pain.”

Lex reached for a roll of ribbon and unrolled about four times more than she needed. “What if I feel better when I'm shut down?”

“Better for how long?”

Lex started chopping the ribbon into more manageable lengths. “I don't know...the rest of my life?” Now the ribbon was too short. She brushed the pieces into the garbage can with a sweep of her hand.

“You need to think about what you're doing.”

“I know what I'm doing.” Although she was a bit concerned by what Danielle was doing. Never, in their long years of friendship, had Danielle gotten tough with her.

“I always thought of you as an honest person, Lex. Too honest most of the time.”

“Guilty.” And why weren't any customers coming into the store to rescue her from this conversation?

“So I want you to be honest with yourself now.” Danielle put down the tulle and leaned onto her forearms, her expression serious. “Are you lying to yourself?”

“About?”

Danielle held her gaze. “Anything.” The single word hung between them.

Lex pulled in a breath, set her scissors down and stood. For a moment she faced off with her friend across the work table, telling herself that Danielle didn't understand. She hadn't lost a loved one. She didn't understand the depth of pain involved...

But Danielle hadn't been talking about loss. She'd been talking about honesty.

And Lex didn't have an answer. Not an honest one, anyway.

The customers started coming then, trickling in one after another. Tourists and locals. Danielle's grandmother stopped by to show her a photo of a veil, and Lex couldn't bring herself to join them as she normally would have done. She needed some time. Some space.

After Annie got back close to closing time, she took off as she'd originally intended to do.

She stopped at the feed store to buy dog food, cat food, alfalfa pellets and rolled oats and almost asked for a bag of Nancy's special duck food. She missed having the ducks and had thought more than once about getting a few of her own in the spring—except that the ducks reminded her of Grady and the first time they made love.

It'd been a mistake. A miscalculation on her part.

She'd thought going in that they'd make love a time or two and when the novelty wore off, they'd part as friends. Or friendly nemeses, or something along those lines.

The novelty hadn't worn off. It had changed into something deeper, something she hadn't been prepared for. Something she was afraid of losing and was therefore afraid of embracing.

You're a coward, Lex.

Grady's words sounded in her head at least a dozen times a day, first thoroughly irritating her then making her think. Did protecting herself give her coward status?

She refused to believe that. But refusing to believe it didn't give her any sense of peace.

Nothing gave her a sense of peace.

The twins came by the shop after school, looking adorable in polka-dot dresses, Kristen's red with white and Katie's white with red.

“We don't usually wear matching dresses,” Katie explained to Lex when she complimented them.

“'Cept special 'casions. We're going to Julie's birthday party.”

Lex agreed that special occasions called for special dresses, and then Kristen said, “Do you miss Uncle Grady?”

Only when she was awake. Okay—that wasn't quite true, since she also dreamed about him.

“I do,” she admitted.

“He's riding the bulls now. We saw him on TV!”

“He's really brave,” Katie added.

He was brave. He rode bulls, and he wasn't afraid of emotions. He embraced everything, while Lex hid from the most challenging and rewarding arena in life. The feeling part.

And doing that kept her sane. Everyone had their survival strategies. Despite what Danielle thought, she was being honest with herself. Not everyone would agree with her strategies, but they worked for her.

The weeks marched on, first one, then two, then three. She finally gave in to temptation, looked up Grady's rides in the Bull Extravaganza, telling herself it was a step in her healing process. A small part of her actually tried to believe it. He hadn't won any legs of the competition yet, but he'd earned some respectable scores. The banner on the Bull Extravaganza site helpfully listed the next stop on the tour and the time it would be televised.

Lex closed out of the site and leaned back in her chair. Did she want to watch?

Her instant stomachache told her no.

Was she tough enough to watch?

Two days later she found out when she tuned into the show, just in time to see Grady accepting a buckle for that leg of the tour and then getting a major lip-lock from a gorgeous redhead. His hand slid down around the redhead's waist to the top of her hip and even though it was a perfectly normal thing to do during a kiss, Lex was instantly conscious of an emotion that rarely cropped up in her life.

Jealousy.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from Grady, the familiar smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he spoke to the interviewer. Yes, he'd taken a break from PBR, so he was happy to have this opportunity to join the Bull Extravaganza. No, the break hadn't hurt his form or his concentration and no, he didn't see retirement anywhere in the near future.

Grady accepted the interviewer's good luck wishes and kissed the redhead one more time, and Lex turned off the television.

Sleep did not come easily tonight. Or the following night.

When her dad died, it had been done. Over. No fixing the situation. But Grady was still there—living life, taking chances, haunting her dreams...kissing redheads.

Time. This would pass with time.

Except she'd given it time, and if anything she felt worse than when she'd ended their relationship to keep from being hurt. She'd given up the possibility of happiness to avoid the possibility of pain.

Grady was right.

She was a coward.

Chapter Fifteen

It hadn't been easy to get herself into the gates of the Bull Extravaganza—and it would have been impossible if she hadn't been Luke Benjamin's daughter. The bullfighters at the extravaganza were the best in the business and several of them knew her father. A few phone calls and she was able to not only get in the doors, but to get a ride to the arena, sharing a taxi with one of her dad's oldest professional friends, Wild Bill Johnson.

“First rodeo?” Bill asked.

Lex knew exactly what he meant. First since her father had died. “No...but I didn't make it through the bull riding.”

“You won't have a lot of choice today, if you insist on going through those gates.”

“I know. I need to go.”

“Clear things out of your system?”

“Yes.” She hadn't told him about Grady—only that she had a friend riding and it was important that she be there.

Bill reached over and patted her shoulder. “It'll be all right, kid. The first rodeo is the hardest.”

It was hard. The first few rides had Lex's heart in her throat and her stomach in a tight knot, but she hadn't thrown up as she'd feared. The bullfighters on this competition were extraordinary, knowing exactly how to distract the bull away from the downed bull rider in the most efficient manner. Her father had been a master at that. He'd also been at the end of his game. At forty-five, he should have been retired, but he'd been one of those athletes who had defied time.

Until it caught up with him.

As Grady's ride approached, the calmness she'd faked herself into evaporated. She forced herself to breathe. Grady did this for a living. He was good at it. Really good. She'd be stupid not to be concerned, but she had faith in his abilities, even if he'd drawn a rank bull. She wasn't familiar with No M.O., but a bullfighter's son filled her in. “Dad hates that bull,” the kid said at the end of his dissertation. Lex stretched her mouth into a smile of acknowledgment and focused on her breathing. She could do this.

She had to do this.

* * *

G
RADY
WAS
BEGINNING
to wonder if a little of his sister's recent hard luck hadn't rubbed off on him. He'd done okay during the first few stops of the Bull Extravaganza, had won a leg, but the current stop wasn't starting out so well. His luggage had gotten lost, so all he had to his name was the grip bag with his rope, glove, rosin, vest and spurs. His chaps had been in the checked bag—a mistake he'd never make again—so he'd had to borrow. Green batwings with metallic pink fringe. Lots of it. Flashy, to say the least, and almost too long, so he had to watch how he walked. And then he'd drawn No M.O., perhaps the rankest bull on the circuit. If Grady could do his part he'd be in the money, because the bull always scored high, but that was the trick. No M.O. was so named because he didn't have one—an M.O., or modus operandi, that is. He changed up his routine, sometimes rearing out of the chute, sometimes charging a few feet, then throwing himself into spins, first one way, then the other, and sometimes he simply short hopped before launching into some nasty twisting bucks.

Grady spent the last minutes of his warm-up time stretching, going over the ride in his mind. Tamping down the fear, because in his book, only fools weren't afraid. He never watched the other riders until after his ride, didn't want their victories or errors getting into his head.

The house was packed, as it generally was for the specialty bull-riding events, but the crowd seemed unreal during his prep. There, but not. He enjoyed the cheers, the positive vibes, but he was never really conscious of being watched until he rode for eight and then allowed himself to look outside the bubble of concentration he'd created. If he landed on his butt, the only people in his world were the bullfighters, the other riders, the gate men. The judges. There was no embarrassment, no shame.

Grady paced behind the chute until No M.O. was loaded. Then he adjusted his belled rope and eased on, pounding his gloved left fist tight around the rope with his right hand. That was when the calm came, blocking out everything except for the feel of the warm flesh and powerful muscles shifting and twitching beneath him, ready to explode when the gate opened and the flank strap tightened.

Grady nodded, and No M.O. reared out of the gate almost before it was open, planted his front feet and attempted to swing his backside over his ears. After that a series of quick spins to the right, followed by a change of direction and quick spins to the left, drool flying off his muzzle.

He had this one. Instinct told him when the whistle would blow. A fraction of a second later it sounded, and he was still in the center of the bull.

* * *

L
EX
GRIPPED
THE
edge of her seat hard. Even though Grady was still on top, she couldn't relax, because this was the part of the bull ride she was conditioned to fear—the part after the whistle. The part where her dad could have gotten hurt.

Grady was checking out his dismount, and Lex was beginning to think she could allow herself to breathe again when the bull did a sudden twisting kick and flipped Grady over his hand onto the wrong side of the animal. His feet beat on the ground as the bull started spinning, tossing Grady against his side like a rag doll as he fought desperately to get his feet under him so he could free his trapped wrist.

Lex jumped up, hand pressed hard over her chest.

Wild Bill dashed at the animal, taunting him, luring him out of the spins and into a straight line, allowing Grady to finally get his feet under himself. Grady made a grab for the tail of the rope as the bull charged Wild Bill, caught it as his feet went out from under him again. He managed a yank and broke free, falling to his knees in the dirt as the second bullfighter dodged a hook and kept the bull from coming around and charging Grady.

Thus thwarted, the bull tossed his head, kinked his tail and trotted toward the exit gate, his work done for the next several weeks. For a long moment, Grady stayed where he was, on his knees in the middle of the arena. He shook his head, then slowly got to his feet and headed toward the fence. The crowd cheered wildly, for Grady, for the bullfighters, for the bull.

Lex was apparently the only one in the audience with tears streaming down her face.

* * *

“G
OOD
TO
GO
.”

Grady had known that before the medic checked him out, even though his shoulder had come close to being dislocated and his wrist was turning blue as it swelled up. Might be a sprain, might be a fracture. They'd have to wait for the swelling to diminish to know for sure.

With the green and pink chaps slung over his shoulder, he collected his gear, automatically checked his phone before shoving it in his pocket, then almost dropped it when he saw the text from Lex.

I need to see you. Tonight if you aren't hurting too bad.

Tonight?

Where are you?
he texted back, heart thumping against his ribs as he waited for the reply.

Here. With Sam Mitchell's son. Near west exit.

Grady didn't bother to reply. He worked his way through a small crowd of riders outside the changing room, rounded the end of the holding area, grimacing as a guy with a camera bumped his shoulder, then headed toward the west exit.

“Grady!”

He stopped, turned. And there she was, looking like something out of one of his dreams, dressed in jeans and boots and a lace top, her dark hair falling over one shoulder. Looking so good that he hoped against hell he wasn't having some kind of hallucination; that his brain hadn't been beat to the point that he was imagining things.

Her chin moved as she swallowed; then she started toward him, her expression a mixture of determination and uncertainty. But what struck him most was that her eyes were red. She'd been crying.

Lex. Crying.

That did him in. Grady closed the last couple of feet between them, wrapping his good arm around her, burying his face in her hair as he held her tightly, thinking how crazy this was. Lex was here. She pressed more tightly against him, and he felt her shudder.

“It's okay,” he murmured. “It's okay.” What on earth had she been putting herself through that she'd been crying? How many demons had she confronted by coming here?

She nodded against his shoulder, and damned if he didn't feel dampness there.

When she finally pulled back, there were indeed tears glistening on her dark lashes. She blinked those gorgeous eyes at him but didn't say a word. There was no need. He got it.

“Would it be too soon to tell you that I love you?” he asked.

She shook her head, and he figured she was afraid that if she answered, she'd start crying for real. In public. Not a Lex thing.

“I have to stay until the show's over,” he said, running his hand up and down her arm, then brushing her hair back over her shoulder before cupping his palm against her face and leaning down to kiss her. A soft kiss. An it's-all-right kiss that deepened into an I-can't-imagine-life-without-you kiss.

“I've got things I have to tell you,” she said when he lifted his head. “Important things.”

His stomach tightened, but he nodded. “We can talk later. In private.”

“This can't wait...I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“Needing. I wasn't being honest with myself. People need other people. And I need you.”

“Of course you do,” he said in an attempt at cockiness. The effect was ruined by the fact that he felt like crying himself. “But no more than I need you.”

A smile trembled on Lex's lips. “I was hoping you wouldn't tell me to take a hike.”

“Not a chance. This has all been really hard for me, but—” he gave a small shrug “—what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and I've kind of been feeling like Superman lately.”

“Sorry about that.” She reached out to take his good hand, running her thumb over the back of it. “Can I stay with you until the show is over?”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.”

And so it was. Grady kept Lex's hand in his as they waited for the announcement of the winner—not him, but he'd been close—and the presentation of the buckle. Then, after the longest bull event of his career, he had Lex all to himself on the taxi ride back to his hotel, and she hadn't let go of his hand once. She was, however, a little more herself once they hit his room, where his luggage was waiting.

“You can imagine my relief when I discovered those pink and green chaps weren't yours,” she said.

“They were kind of pretty under the lights.”

“And had nice movement as you were flopping along the bull's side.”

“Funny.”

She took his face in her hands, both frowning and smiling as she said, “I'm afraid to touch you anywhere else.”

“Take a chance. I'll tell you if it hurts.”

“You know what?” she said with a lift of her eyebrows.

“What?”

“I'm going to do the same.”

She wasn't talking bruises—not the physical kind, anyway—and hearing those words made his heart almost explode. “You know I'm here for you.”

“And that is the most amazing thing, Grady. I figured that you'd probably written me off.”

“I tried. It didn't work.”

“Same here.” She leaned her forehead against his. “Guess that means we're stuck with each other?”

He smiled against her lips. “Can't think of anyone I'd rather be stuck with. I love you, Lex.”

“Not one bit more than I love you.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
HIS RODEO SWEETHEART
by Pamela Britton

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