The Bull Rider's Collection (48 page)

“Two rooms,” Taylor said.

The woman’s eyebrows rose as she looked at the two. Jesse felt her take in their inebriated state, the bags of takeout, and then the woman laughed. “Sorry, girly. You’re just going to have to make up with your stud muffin ’cause you got the last room I had.”

“He’s not my stud muffin,” Taylor mumbled.

Jesse hoped he’d be able to get her to the room before she fell asleep. He slid the cash toward the motel clerk and smiled. “One room will be fine, thanks.” He took the key and put his hand on Taylor’s back, steering her out the door toward the overhang. The motel’s rooms all opened up onto the parking lot, and Jesse found theirs at the end of the row. The Cowboy’s Bunk looked like it had been built in the fifties and had never seen a remodel. It was so out of date that it’d now qualify as retro-modern.

He unlocked the door, worried what they’d find. When he flipped on the light, he was pleasantly surprised. The room was clean and smelled of lemon. He set the food sack on the small table in front of the window and unpacked their late-night snack.

Taylor fell into one of the chairs. “You won.”

“You’ve already forgotten?” He sat across from her, unwrapping his burger.

She glared at him as she took a large bite, wiped her mouth, and responded. “Nope, just stating a fact. I worked that artist for years, and you walk in, and in one visit you convince him to use the gallery.”

“What can I say, I’m good with people. It’s all those years of interviews on the rodeo circuit. People are drawn to happy people.” He dipped a fry into the special sauce provided. “These would be better with horseradish sauce.”

“You’re saying I’m not a happy person?” Taylor pointed her half-eaten burger at him.

“Sometimes, I think you aren’t happy at all. Not at work, not in your own skin.” He stroked the top of her hand holding the burger. “Why aren’t you happy, Taylor? You’ve got it all.”

A laugh erupted. “Seriously? What do I have?”

“A family who loves you. A great job. An amazing education. Friends. You look like a million bucks.” Jesse shook his head. “What don’t you have?”

Taylor polished off her hamburger before answering. “I live with my parents. The only person who ever noticed anything I did, my grandfather, died last year. I work too much and have no life outside the gallery and the events my folks insist I attend.” She flipped her hair back. “The good looks are genetic. Not something I earned, or even worked at, so they don’t count. Besides, there are a lot of pretty women. I want to be more than that.”

“So you’re not dating anyone?” Jesse pressed, his heart slowing a bit while he waited for an answer.

“That’s what you take away from this entire discussion? I’m admitting to my failed life, and you focus on my dating schedule?” Taylor wadded up the wrapper and threw it into the bag. “Three points.”

“Bag’s too close—I’ll give you two.” Jesse smiled. “I don’t think you have a failed life. Look at me.”

“Three or four time bull riding champion? Now working on owning an art gallery along with what, one or two working ranches?” Taylor sipped on her drink. “Sounds like a complete failure to me.”

“Look past the trappings. My brother is married to his high school sweetheart with three kids now. My manager just found her soulmate, even though she had to marry the guy twice to realize it.” Jesse wadded his own wrappings up, leaned back, and shot. The paper landed gracefully inside the paper bag. “And I don’t own a speck of land. The place I stay at in Boise is my brother’s. Tell me, who’s the loser?”

“Then get married. Have baby bull riders. There must be a lot of women out there wanting to play that role.” Taylor rolled her eyes. “Like Amanda.”

“I think our taxi driver has his heart set on little Miss Amanda. I wonder if she knows it yet.” He chuckled. “But you’re right; there are plenty of women who want to ‘play’ the part.” He used air quotes to emphasize his words.

“You don’t know who you’ll fall in love with until you try.”

He shook his head. “Now, I think you’re wrong there. You can’t try to be in love. Either it happens, or it doesn’t. Believe me, I’ve tried out a lot of women.”

“You sound like a man whore.” She laughed.

“I probably was.” He stared at her face, noticing the curve that he’d tried so hard to capture that day in class. No, he hadn’t ever been in love. Not before. Now all he could do was think about her. Make excuses to be with her. Even now, sitting so close to her, a bed within arm’s reach, all he wanted to do was reach out and touch her face. To let his fingers trace the curve that had eluded him as he tried to sketch her.

“Now you want true love?” she asked, her voice breathless.

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” Jesse touched her hand, one finger caressing the open palm.

“Tonight? I’d believe you if you told me you were Elvis reincarnated.” She smiled and leaned forward, kissing him over the table, her lips so soft, but so needy. His head swam in images. Taylor laughing at the opening, her thoughtful gaze during the visit to the artist, the wind blowing through her hair on the drive here. Taylor. Something clicked in the back of his mind as if he’d been looking for her all his life. He pulled her closer, wanting more. The smell of cinnamon alcohol broke through the spell.

He gently pushed her aside. “You’re drunk.”

“True, but I know what I want. Let me just be Taylor. Just for tonight.” She stood and held out her hand to him. “I promise I’ll respect you in the morning.”

And he went to her.

• • •

Sunlight streamed into the room through a crack in the cowboy-print curtains. Her head pounded. She rolled away from the light to face the bathroom, and realized she was alone in the bed. Taylor sat up, pulling the sheet around her. She took in the room that had seemed charming last night. In the bright morning light the décor just seemed walk-of-shame sad.

A bottle of water and a single-use pack of extra-strength OTC painkiller sat on the end table next to a note. She picked it up and read aloud to the empty room. “Take these. See you soon. Your ride will be here at nine. Jesse.”

She shook her head, then winced at the pain. Unscrewing the cap, she took the painkillers and then downed the water. Stupid to get drunk with Jesse Sullivan. Stupid to open her heart. If she remembered correctly, she’d been the one to say, “Yes, let’s have wild monkey sex.” All after, he’d told her he was looking for more than just a good time. She was now a part of Jesse’s harem.

She closed her eyes, remembering last night. How gentle he’d been. How his gaze had searched her face. She had vague memories of kissing and touching. Had they done anything more? She couldn’t remember. Her clearest memory was of cuddling with Jesse while he mumbled words she couldn’t quite remember into her ear. He kept repeating her name, over and over. Taylor, Taylor.

“Stop it.” She forced her eyes open and glanced at the clock. 8:30. If his note was right, she’d be out of here in thirty minutes. She headed to the shower to wash away the memories of last night from her body, and hopefully, from her mind.

The knock on the door came right at nine. Dressed in last night’s clothes, Taylor grabbed her purse and checked herself out in the mirror. No way around it, she looked like the poster child for the walk of shame. Grimacing, she opened the door.

Angie stood there, her big hair gleaming in the sunshine. For the love of God, was she wearing a leopard-print stretch jumpsuit with kitten heels? She jangled keys in front of her.

“Hey. You look … Well, let’s just get you home so you can freshen up before you go into the gallery.”

Taylor opened the door wider, letting Angie in. “How did you get here?” Glancing around the parking lot she saw only one car parked a few slots down.

“Jesse called me. He left early for Boise and didn’t want to wake you. He’s got to leave on time for the rodeo this weekend. If he misses another interview, Barb’s going to wring his neck.” She glanced at her watch. “He left about two hours ago. I’ve been having coffee with Maggie.”

“He called you to come and get me?” Taylor didn’t know if she was still a little woozy from last night, or if she’d just stepped into a weird Jesse-world where his mommy cleaned up his one-night stand mistakes. She figured the latter. They walked over to the car, and Taylor slid into the passenger seat.

“Look, I wasn’t the best role model for my sons. And their dad, well, he kind of fell apart after I left. I feel bad about that. But neither Jesse nor James learned how to say the right things or deal with real feelings.” Angie pulled out a compact and checked her ruby-red lipstick. Deciding she’d missed a spot, she reapplied another coat.

“So he asks his mom to clean up his messes,” Taylor said. Angie gunned the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

Angie put her lipstick back into her open purse and focused on Taylor. “Now that’s where you’re wrong. The fact that he left is a good thing.”

“In what possible way could running out after a one-night stand be considered a good thing?” Taylor asked. Angie pulled the car up to a drive-through coffee shack. It was only large enough for two people to stand in and make coffee all day. Taylor found her wallet in her purse, pushing aside the signed contract. “I’m buying, you want something?”

“Large, black,” Angie ordered and handed Taylor’s twenty over to pay for their coffees. The window to the coffee shack closed. She added, “He would have stayed if he hadn’t been scared out of his mind. And the only reason he’d be scared after a night with a beautiful woman?”

“How the hell would I know?” Taylor leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The coffee shack employee handed Angie the two cups, filling the small interior with the dark roast aroma. Angie angled the car back onto the street and took the entrance to the freeway headed toward Boise. The woman drove like she was on a NASCAR track. Taylor tugged on her seatbelt.

Once the car had merged into the light traffic, she glanced at Angie. “Fine, I give up, what would scare the Bull Rider Jesse Sullivan?”

“You have my youngest son on the ropes. Even Maggie saw it last night.” Angie lightly tapped Taylor on the hand. “Jesse’s in love.”

When Angie dropped Taylor off at the parking lot in back of the gallery, she quickly unlocked the car and headed to the house, hoping no one saw her walk of shame. At the DeMarco house, Taylor quietly snuck in, only to find her mom and dad had already left. It was after one in the afternoon by the time Taylor arrived at the gallery, way past her normal schedule.

Brit had opened and was working with a corporate customer when Taylor walked in. Taylor pointed to her office and disappeared behind the door as quickly as she could without breaking into a run. Angie had to be wrong.
I bet she says that to all of Jesse’s girls.

She stared at the computer as it booted up, willing her mind to get lost in the day-to-day gallery activities. Next week, they had a teacher from the nearby elementary school bringing a class in for a field trip. She’d have to have Brit do the tour and ask Angie to work earlier that day. She could just imagine the commentary Angie would provide for the kids.

She adjusted the work schedule, thankful Angie was scheduled late today. Maybe by the time she saw Jesse’s mom again, Taylor would have already gotten the ‘Dear Jane e-mail or text from Jesse. Then she wouldn’t have to think about his mom’s words.

She pulled the contract out of her purse and stuffed it into a file, pushing it aside on her desk. She should be ecstatic about bringing in a new talent to the gallery. She should be thinking about scheduling the show’s opening, sending the contract over to the lawyers to get it finalized, and setting it up in the gallery’s accounting system. She should be working.

She jumped when her phone rang.
Stupid
, she thought, and clicked the phone to answer.

“Taylor DeMarco.” At first, she didn’t think anyone was on the line, and she checked the display to see if she’d been disconnected. “Hello?”

“You got back.” Jesse’s voice rumbled through the phone and she thought of him whispering her name over and over in her ear last night.

She pressed her lips together, willing away the memory. “No thanks to you. Who dumps a date an hour away from home?”

He chuckled, and she squirmed at the sound. She should have pretended it didn’t matter. Once again, he had the upper hand.

“Didn’t you tell me it wasn’t a date?” Before she could answer, he continued. “Sorry about that. I told Barb I’d be here for an early interview, so I had a plane to catch. And you looked so sweet, snoring your way through your dreams.”

“I don’t snore.” Did she? She hadn’t slept with anyone for years.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, sweetheart. Anyway, what are you doing this weekend?” Jesse paused, then added, “Can you come to Wyoming?”

“Wyoming, vacation hot spot to the stars? Actually, I was just telling Brit how I wanted to spend a hot, dry weekend in Wyoming. Just me and the tumbleweeds.” She bit her lip.

“Seriously, it’s not that bad. And I’ll make up for this morning by taking you out to dinner after the rodeo tonight.” He paused. “I think we should talk. We’re going to be working together and I’d hate for last night to, well, mess with our business relationship.”

Taylor’s heart sank. He was mending fences because of the gallery. “We could talk when you get back.”

“I’d rather do it tonight before I lose my nerve.” Jesse mumbled to someone on his end of the line. “Look, I’ve got to go. There will be a ticket waiting for you at the box office. Show starts at seven. I’ll make reservations for dinner and a separate room at the hotel.”

“I’ll think about it.” Taylor hesitated.

“Please come, Taylor,” Jesse said, then paused. “Barb’s fuming, I’ve got to go. Please come.”

The line went dead.

She leaned back in her chair, tossing the phone on her desk. Brit caught the sliding cell before it dropped off the other side.

“Our new owner?” Brit set the phone down and slipped into one of the leather chairs in front of Taylor’s desk. She adjusted the Anne Klein jacket that she wore over a silk tank and expensive jeans. Brit loved looking the part of an art curator, and her department store credit card statements proved it.