The Cowgirl Ropes a Billionaire (7 page)

“Three—you are competitors, but you may not sabotage each other. No holes in each other’s water pouches, no tripping or pushing, and so on. Sabotage equals automatic disqualification. You may, however, trash talk and generally annoy the hell out of each other. In fact, we’re counting on it. Is all of this clear?”

“Yes,” Evan said. He snuck a glance at Bella, who once more seemed a little pale.

“Yes.” She nodded, and her pony-tail swung.

“All right—go get ‘em!” She clapped her hands together. “Get out of here!”

Bella broke out into a run and Evan only hesitated a moment before running after her. In several strides he caught up, pushed past her and raced onward with a rush of speed designed to leave her far behind. When he looked back thirty seconds later, all he could see past his camera crew were the trees crowding the trail. This was child’s play.

* * * * *

Bella stood in a crook of the trail and studied her laminated map. If she’d heard everything right, this contest wasn’t about speed—it was about accuracy. She would gain the points she needed to win at the challenges, not by exhausting herself racing from point to point. She looked at the map legend and back to the trail marked out by a dashed line. In total, she would cover eight miles today. That didn’t seem so bad. Of course, if the trail was hilly—and it looked to be hilly—it could be quite strenuous. She found the midpoint and noted that the two halves of the trail were bisected by the challenge points. So, she had maybe two to three miles to go before the first challenge, a longer four mile hike to the second challenge, and two more miles to the day’s campsite. She could do this.

She wasn’t exactly a fitness buff, but her work required her to move all day long, lifting animals, feeding them, exercising them. She had plenty of stamina. The trail looked very well marked, too, so she wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost, at least at first. Setting out at a steady pace, she tried to ignore the crew members following after her. How did her butt look in these shorts? She hoped it looked good, because with Paul’s camera pointed right at it, the viewers were definitely going to notice.

Before long, the path began to climb. They were traveling through a mixed forest in which cedar, hemlock and pine predominated. The air smelled different from home. Although the day was warming up fast, there was a sharp hint of snow in the air—probably from the wind sweeping over the mountains. On the drive the previous day they’d passed more than one glacier, so she assumed some nearby peaks never lost their snow cover, no matter the time of year.

As they continued, the going got rougher and she began to breathe heavily. Paul and Nita huffed and puffed behind her, and when she risked a look over her shoulder, she saw Nita push back her heavy, dark bangs, already damp with sweat. Good—she wasn’t the only one struggling.

She wondered how far ahead Evan was. He’d looked all too handsome this morning, completely at home in his hiking gear—even that funny, brimmed hat he wore. She felt kind of dorky in the brand new water-wicking shorts the show had provided for her, and the t-shirt they’d given her hugged every curve, making her adequate breasts look absolutely huge. Madelyn had allowed her to keep her cowboy hat—thank God. Although she avoided horses, it was as much a part of her daily uniform as her own skin. It would be too strange to part with it now.

By the time she’d traversed the first couple miles she was covered with a slick of sweat. She hadn’t stopped for a break yet, but if she didn’t find the first challenge soon, she’d need to stop and rest. The trail rose consistently and became quite steep in places. Add in the weight of her water pouch and daypack and she was tiring fast.

Just when she was about to give up and stop by the side of the trail, it leveled out and she entered a moderately sized meadow. Two targets were set up about fifty yards from where she stood. Evan stood in front of one, a recurve bow upraised in his hands. As she watched, he pulled the string back to his ear and let an arrow loose. It flew at the target and hit it with a thwap. His two crew members clapped. Another man she didn’t recognize wrote something on his notepad. “That’s four.”

Four? As in, four arrows in the target? If each arrow equaled a point, Evan had nailed four out of five points in the first challenge. She’d never picked up a bow in her life—there was no way she could beat that.

Evan took another arrow from a quiver at his feet, set it on the string and lifted the arrow again. She watched him carefully, trying to note his stance, the way he set the arrow to the string and how he positioned the bow. Obviously, he’d done this before.

Was Madelyn aware of that? Was this contest rigged against her? She realized she had no way of knowing. Maybe this whole thing was going to be an exercise in humiliation, with the loss of her clinic and animal shelter the final blow.

She had to do something. What had Madelyn said? They weren’t allowed to hurt each other, but trash talk was encouraged?

She waited until Evan pulled the arrow back to his ear and steadied it there. Right when she judged he would let it loose, she yelled, “Bear!”

Evan jerked and the arrow swung off course, missing the target altogether. Everyone in the clearing tensed and scanned the area.

“Sorry,” Bella called and stepped forward. “My mistake—it was just a tree. I’m a little jumpy.”

Evan turned on her. “You did that on purpose.”

She shrugged. “I haven’t spent a lot of time in the woods. My specialty is pets, not grizzlies. Like I said, I’m a little jumpy.”

“You’re going to be a whole lot jumpier before the day’s done. You realize you’ve only spoiled one shot of mine. I’ll be here to spoil all five of yours.” He held her gaze as he came to stand close enough to her she could smell the sweat from his morning’s exertions. It should have disgusted her, but instead it seemed to waken something deep inside. He was clean shaven this morning, still neat and tidy despite the hike, but as handsome as he was now, she had the feeling that the wilder this trip got, the hotter he’d look. Rugged outdoorsy activity suited the guy far better than his suits did. She doubted it had the same effect on her appearance, though.

He handed her the bow and Bella swallowed, all too aware of the way his hands wrapped around the polished wood. Strong hands with blunt fingers. Hands that could caress and squeeze and stroke…

“You’ll lose your head start,” Bella said, suddenly eager to send him on his way. Her hands weren’t shaking out of nervousness about handling a bow for the first time, nor because he obviously intended to taunt her while she shot. The thought of Evan touching her made her feel warm. Delicate. Womanly.

Interested.

Crud. Of all the men to react to like that. Why couldn’t she fall for one of the businessmen of Chance Creek, or even one of the cowboys working the ranches around town, like Rob’s brother Jake? Or the county sheriff, Cab? She got along great with Cab, but there’d never been a spark between them—not like this.

Cab didn’t have Evan’s hands.

Surely she was losing it. Who cared about hands? It was a man’s heart, his brain, his capacity for love that was really important, if you cared about things like that. She didn’t care about men one way or another.

But her thoughts returned to the way Evan’s hands could make her feel alive. They could tease and torment her until she writhed with desire.

Seriously. She needed to get laid.

Did Evan feel it, too, or was she the only one being shanghaied by hormones? He stepped closer and for a second she thought she saw her own interest echoed in his eyes. He frowned and bent nearer. “I’ll always beat you in a race, Betty Bumpkin. I’ve already beat you at this challenge. I’ve got this contest in the palm of my hand. Pretty soon I’ll have you in the palm of my hand, too. At least for a year.”

Betty Bumpkin? Heat rushed into her cheeks. He called her Betty Bumpkin on national television? What an asshole! And what did that last crack mean—having her in the palm of his hand? She could think of any number of dirty interpretations for that sentence.

Now she saw him as he truly was—a cocky, arrogant, self-absorbed jackass who’d inherited a bunch of money and thought it made him superior to everyone who worked for a living.

“We’ve got a long way to go, so step aside, Moneybuns. Let’s get on with it.” His snort of disgust at the crude nickname made her smile, but her anxiety rose as she approached a white line spray painted on the ground. One of the extra crew members took the bow Evan had handed her and directed her to a rack full of them.

“This one’s much too big for you,” the young woman said. “Try a few of them out and see which ones you can pull back all the way. You want the biggest one you can handle, though. The bigger the bow, the faster the arrow flies—making it more likely to stick in the target.” Bella chose a bow and Evan smirked at her as the woman helped Bella put on a wrist guard and gloves, led her back to the line, and pointed to the quiver of arrows. “Fire at will.”

Everyone stepped back behind the line. She knew the cameras were rolling—several of them. Evan stood nearby, his powerful arms crossed over his chest.

Hell. This was going to be embarrassing.

She selected an arrow and nocked it just above a small metal bead attached to the string. She raised the bow out in front of her, held her left arm straight, took hold of the arrow and string between the second and third fingers on her right hand and drew back as far as she could. It wasn’t as easy as Evan made it look. Her right arm trembled, more and more as she waited for Evan to begin heckling her. He didn’t say a word. Finally, unable to wait any longer, she loosed the arrow and cringed when it flew barely half the distance to the target before hitting the ground.

Bella wiped her sweat-slick palm along her shorts. This sucked. Still, it was just one contest. Surely there’d be others she excelled at. She glanced at Evan, who saluted her cockily. “Great shot.”

“Shut up.” She bit her lip, angry at herself for being baited. That wasn’t the stinging comment she’d like to have made. She selected another arrow, nocked it and raised the bow again. This time she angled it higher, figuring that if the arrow went higher in the air, it would travel farther. She took a breath, pulled the arrow back and released it as quickly as she could, before Evan even had the chance to say anything.

This time the arrow made it three-fourths of the way to the target, but veered off to the left.

“You’re pushing the arrow. Keep your fingers at your chin and just release.”

Bella spun around to glare at Evan. He was giving her archery tips?

He met her gaze coolly. “You’re not going to hit the target anyway. Might as well learn something.”

Hmmm—Mr. Moneybuns liked to show off his knowledge and couldn’t stand to see someone doing something wrong. She filed that information away for later use. She pulled a third arrow from the quiver and raised the bow again. This time she pretended she was in her operating room at home, focused solely on the task at hand, allowing all distractions to slide away. She was alone with the target, the bow as much a part of her arm as her scalpel usually was. She raised it another inch, nocked the arrow and pulled it back until her fingers rested just below her ear, and let go, just like Evan said.

The arrow sailed straight through the air and hit the target.

“That’s one,” the man keeping score said.

Bella let out a whoop and nearly danced with excitement. She did it—she got one!

“I’m still beating you,” Evan said.

“Better hold on tight, Moneybuns,” she said. “I’m catching up!”

Confident now, she selected a fourth arrow and let it loose before Evan could say a word. It hit the target, too.

As she picked a fifth arrow, however, Evan evidently decided not to take any chances.

“Archery is one of those sports women think they can excel at, but they never really match up to the strength and accuracy of men,” he said, coming closer. “Women suck at depth perception, and archery, really, is all about depth perception.”

She shook her head. He’d have to do better than that if he wanted to throw her off. She liked nothing better than proving arrogant men wrong. After all, her brother told her for years women made lousy vets and she’d shown him. She outscored him in every class and every test on her way to becoming a vet. Of course, he still lorded it over her that he cared for livestock while she stuck with pets, but that had nothing to do with strength, accuracy…or depth perception, come to think of it. She raised her bow and got ready to release the arrow.

“The only thing women don’t suck at,” Evan said, drawing nearer and dropping his voice. “Is sucking…”

Bella jerked just as the arrow left her fingers and she knew instantly it would miss. She closed her eyes and lowered her bow in frustration, but when she heard a distinct
thwap
, she opened them again.

“Three,” the scorekeeper said and she blinked in amazement. Her arrow dangled from the very bottom of the target, but its head was definitely stuck in the ticking. She’d hit it after all.

With another whoop, Bella did dance this time. “Three—I got three!” she crowed at Evan.

“I got four,” he said. “Give it up, Bumpkin.”

“Not on your life, Moneybuns! I’m just getting started.” She grabbed her daypack and her map and darted off to a well-marked gap in the trees on the other side of the meadow.