The Bull Rider's Collection (47 page)

“You just want me to buy you dinner.” Jesse shook his head. “Pitiful how low a girl will stoop to be a part of the Jesse show.”

The waitress returned, still throwing mooning looks at Jesse and hate-filled glances at Taylor. Jesse sighed. “I have to buy, just so you can experience the joy that a steak from Maggie’s brings.”

Taylor brightened, opening the menu. “In that case, I’ll have the rib-eye and lobster, steamed veggies over the fettuccini pasta, and a side salad with light Italian on the side.”

“Ouch.” Jesse faked a heart attack. “You know how to hit a guy where it hurts.”

Taylor arched an eyebrow. “The wallet?”

Jesse nodded and ordered his own steak. “Bring us two more drafts while you’re at it.”

The girl spun on her booted heel and left the table. Taylor watched her stop by the bar to leave the drink order with her mother before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Do you think I should hire a food taster before I eat?” Taylor stared at the swinging kitchen door. She hadn’t felt a girl’s hatred that intense since high school. Tom, the school bad boy, had dropped his long-term, stoner girlfriend and started calling Taylor instead. Coincidentally, that particular bad boy was a gifted artist who hadn’t had a clue. He had later admitted that he’d needed Taylor to introduce him to her grandfather.

Tom still used the gallery to sell his landscapes. He was developing quite a following and had even been interviewed by several local magazines. He hadn’t broken in yet, but Taylor knew it was only a matter of time. The guy was good. Very good.

She looked at Jesse, and for a second, she could see what the waitress saw in him. The guy was nice, sensitive, and not bad looking. If he didn’t have an ego the size of undeveloped Canada, he might even be date-worthy. She shook her head. Jesse Sullivan was the enemy. And this was the best shot she’d have to get intel on the guy. She grinned, thinking of herself as a secret spy, and wondered if the beer was clouding her judgment a tiny bit. She decided she didn’t really care and took another drink.

While they ate their dinner, Jesse kept her entertained with stories from the road. Riders who’d shown up for their ride after a desperate search for their lucky rope. Or their lucky bandana. “Riders are a superstitious bunch. None of them own a black cat or would step on a crack on a bet. The life has its risks; pretending that the danger can be staved off with luck is a coping mechanism.”

“You’re smart,” she said, regretting the compliment as soon as it left her mouth. She ducked her head and asked another question. “What are your superstitions?”

“Can’t tell you.” He cut one last piece off his steak before he pushed the plate away.

Taylor leaned forward. Now this was getting interesting. “Why not?”

“If I tell you, they lose their magic.” Jesse actually blushed. “Look, I know it’s dumb, but it’s kind of like telling your birthday wish after you blow out your candles. It’s just not done.”

“I would never have pegged you as a woo-woo guy.” She finished off her last bites and leaned back and groaned. “I’m going to have to buy all new pants. I think I just gained ten pounds while sitting here.”

Maggie came by the table to clear the plates. “That’s the best compliment we’ve had in years. I’ll tell Duke you enjoyed your meal.”

“Duke?” Taylor cocked her head and watched Maggie.

Maggie’s eyes were soft as she said, “My husband. He’s our cook.”

“And an ex-champion bull rider, himself. The man is a legend. The bulls he rode during the day, well, he was the only one who could stay on Satin, ever. They had to retire the bull after Duke retired. The bull riding association didn’t think it would be suitable for someone else to master the bull because of its aging body.” Jesse’s hands flew all over the place when he was excited and telling a story.

“Wait, the bull’s name was Satin?” Taylor had no clue on the proper names for bulls in the business, but Satin? That sounded like a kitten.

Jesse laughed. “His black coat was as smooth as silk and riders just slipped off him.”

“And now Duke cooks here. No wonder you wanted to come me to come with you.” Taylor smiled at Maggie. “Be sure to tell your husband how much I enjoyed dinner.”

“I’ll tell him you’re here.” Maggie put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “He’ll sure be glad to see you. You heading out to Wyoming this weekend?”

“Yep. I’ve got three more months I promised Barb I’d ride. Then I’m done for the year. Well, unless I get into the finals. Which would mean I’d have to take one last ride.” Jesse sounded unsure, almost hesitant.

“It’s for the best. You’ve about used up your lucky-charm points, you realize that, right?” Maggie nodded to the empty glasses. “Why don’t I bring you over a pitcher?”

“Oh, I think we’re about done,” Taylor said at the same time as Jesse nodded.

He grinned at her. “We still haven’t ironed out the details of who gets credit for the contract we signed this afternoon.” He stood and spoke to Maggie. “Bring the pitcher over to the dart board. Is my dart case still under the bar?”

“Of course.” Maggie nodded at Taylor. “I’ll bring you a good set, too. If you have a chance against this guy it won’t be with house darts.” Then she disappeared into the back room.

“Why do I feel like the two of you are speaking a foreign language? What the heck are house darts?” Taylor followed Jesse deeper into the bar. They stopped in front of three flashing, soft-tip dartboards. On the floor lay a piece of vinyl marking the throw line. Taylor pointed to the neon orange strip. “Where’s the women’s tee?”

Jesse pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a laugh, but Taylor saw it.

“What dumb thing did I say now?” Taylor set her purse on the floor next to a table where Jesse had laid out a handful of quarters and his beer glass. She drained her glass and set it on the table as well.

“You’re thinking about golf. There’s not a shorter throw line for women.” He cocked his head and looked at her. “Unless you’re just playing me? No way you could have gotten out of college without playing one game of darts at a local dive bar.”

“I don’t know where you went to school, but my college days were filled with hours in the library museum studying the masters.”

Maggie set a case down on the table for Jesse and handed Taylor a set of heavy darts. In her other hand she held a set of three neon-yellow plastic darts that she held up for Taylor to see.

“These are house darts.” Maggie handed them to Taylor. “Take one and compare the weight with the others.”

Taylor felt the light, cheap plastic dart. She looked at Maggie. “So heavier is better?”

Jesse held out his own darts, and Taylor took one, comparing it to the other two. She glanced up, frowning. He grinned. “It depends on the thrower. My darts are almost as light as house darts, even though they’re titanium.”

“And pricey as hell,” Maggie added. “You don’t know how many people I have to take that case away from. I think you should consider taking it home with you.”

“I don’t play anywhere but here.” Jesse took the dart back and walked up to the line. He leaned his body over the vinyl tape, reached out his arm and threw his first dart. It landed just outside the bull’s-eye.

Taylor watched as he adjusted his stance. Jesse lined up his body so his right shoulder was parallel to the bull’s-eye on the board. By the third dart, he’d hit his target. Crap, what had she gotten herself into?

She handed the house dart back to Maggie with a slight smile. “I guess I better get practicing.”

Maggie watched Jesse throw another three darts. “My money’s on you. Jesse’s a great player when his head’s in the game. But I think he’s got something else on his mind tonight.” She grinned at Taylor. “Nice to meet you. I hope you come back, with or without that one.”

“I hear you,” Jesse called out from the line, continuing to throw.

Taylor poured a fresh glass of beer from the pitcher Maggie had brought. “I just might have to do that.”

They threw darts for over ten minutes before Jesse stopped and returned to the table. He poured himself another beer and watched her for a while.

Conscious of his eyes on her, Taylor tried to focus on the way the dart felt when it left her hand. She thought about where she wanted it to land. Not too hard, not too soft, the power behind the dart had to be just right to keep it flying in the direction of the intended target. Finally, she returned to the table, laying her darts down to take a sip from her glass.

“You’re good,” Jesse said. “So I guess I was right about the college dive bar obsession.”

“No. Like I said, in college I focused on studying. It was after I graduated that I fell in love with dive bars.”

“That’s my girl.” Jesse smiled. Her heart was beating too fast. The bar suddenly felt hot. Had he meant the words, or was that a casual throwaway line for Jesse the heartbreaker? He continued before she could say anything. “Now about that wager.”

“When did we say we were playing darts to settle this?”

Jesse glanced around the bar. “Shuffleboard, pool, or Hunter’s Gallery?”

Taylor followed his gaze. She’d never shot a gun in her life, real or virtual. Shuffleboard seemed, well, just wrong. And pool, she knew she totally sucked there. “Fine, darts. But we need rules.”

“I win three out of five games, and you sleep with me.” Jesse toyed with the quarters.

“What did you say?” Taylor couldn’t breathe.

He grinned his million-dollar smile that Taylor bet worked on most women. “Just seeing if you were paying attention.” He leaned closer. “Rules. Three out of five, winner of each game goes first, loser chooses the game. Winner at the end gets credit for the contract.”

Taylor hesitated, wondering just how good Jesse was at this game. Maybe she should laugh his idea off and offer to share the credit. She watched him continue to juggle the quarters. “Winner of each game buys the drinks.”

His eyes widened—she’d surprised him. That could work in her favor. She nodded to the board. “Go set it up and let’s get this match started.”

She won the first game, surprising both herself and Jesse. For her first win, she ordered two shots of cinnamon firewater, a drink her father had bought her when she’d turned of-age. No one could handle the burn unless they’d been indoctrinated into the firewater family. She’d surprised him again with the order. She was definitely keeping the boy on his toes.

When he won the second game, Taylor wasn’t surprised. She should have seen Jesse’s tequila shot order as a warning sign. However, the beer and firewater had already dulled the part of her brain screaming at her that this was a terrible idea.

He looked smug when she chose Cricket, a game where you had to hit your target. He must have thought that’s why he was winning. Taylor knew better; she was just warming up. She’d been less than honest about her dart history, but he didn’t need to know that.

When she won game three, he stood motionless, staring at her. “You’ve played before,” he said.

Shrugging, she ordered another firewater shot.

He tapped her hand. “You keep a lot of secrets, you know.”

She watched him shoot the drink, slamming the empty glass upside down on the tray.
Buddy, you have no idea.

Two hours later, they stumbled into the back of a taxi Maggie had called to take them to a local hotel. “Take us somewhere that has late-night room service.”

The man in the front laughed. “Do you know where you are? Ontario’s not a big city. Besides, with the livestock show in town, Maggie was lucky to get you a room anywhere.”

“Maggie got us a room?” Jesse’s head hurt trying to follow the taxi driver’s words. He never felt alcohol. Of course, he’d never mixed firewater with tequila before. Taylor twisted him in more ways than he cared to admit. She confused him. Especially when she laid her head on his shoulder after they got into the cab. Her blond hair tickled his cheek, and the floral smell of her hair flooded his senses. Food, they needed food.

“Two rooms. She got us two rooms, right?” Taylor murmured from his chest, apparently still alive.

He smiled at her drunken defiance. The girl had backbone, that much was obvious. “Can we stop by a drive-in on the way to the motel?”

“Best burgers in town up ahead on your right. Will that work?” The taxi driver looked at him in the rearview. Jesse saw his eyes drop to Taylor in an appreciative glance.

Why wasn’t this girl dating, engaged, or hell, even married off? Jesse couldn’t imagine. Then Angie’s voice echoed in his head when he complained about everyone hooking up around him. “You’re just waiting for the one.” Maybe that was Taylor’s problem, too. She hadn’t found the one. He turned his focus back to the driver. “Works for me.”

The car slowed as they pulled into the drive-through, and the driver inched the car forward so Jesse could order. “A monster cheeseburger with bacon.” He stopped when Taylor lifted her head.

“Two. With curly fries. And a large coke,” she mumbled to herself and laid her head back down.

Jesse smiled and repeated the order into the speaker. He pulled his wallet out and paid for the food. The smell of grease and beef made his stomach growl as soon as the server handed him a large bag.

Taylor lifted her head and shifted in her seat in order to take a drink from one of the cups. A loud burp seemed to surprise her when it followed. “God, don’t let me drink with you again. Can’t you ever let someone win?”

Jesse opened the bag and offered her a fry. She grabbed a handful, glancing around the dark streets. “Where are we going?”

The driver answered her. “Cowboy’s Bunk Motel over on King Street. Maggie knows the owner.”

Jesse glanced at the taxi driver’s posted license for a name. “Todd, you seem to know a lot about Maggie.”

The kid, in his early twenties, blushed. “I kind of hang out there when I’m not driving.”

Jesse wondered if the kid hung out for the food or to see Amanda. He’d bet from the reaction, it was Amanda.

In less than five minutes, they were at the motel. Jesse helped Taylor out of the cab and paid Todd, adding in a hefty tip. The older woman at the desk turned down the television she’d been watching. “You must be Jesse and Taylor. Your room is at the end of the row.” She slid a key toward them. “Fifty bucks. Cash, check, or charge, doesn’t matter to me.”