Page 6 of The Undercover Cowboy

He pushed a sexy image of her pressed up against him out of his mind.

“Fine.” Nash knew there was no use arguing with her. Although, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was already too late to salvage things in the online popularity contest Dolly wanted to sign him up for. “I can free up some time after my ride today.”

“You better,” she warned and hung up.

Chapter Three

Nash Weaver

After arriving atthe Killeen Rodeo Grounds, Nash parked in the area reserved for the cowboys and reluctantly headed over to the bull pens. “Another day, another kick in the ass,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting the brim of his cowboy hat. It was not just being stuck in backwater towns with nothing but rodeo hicks and cow shit for company. It was that he should have still been in the FBI working on important cases.

But this case was vital to Shelby’s success, so he would pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Even if that made him feel like their grifter father every time he sauntered into the rodeo. Nash put those feelings aside because he couldn’t afford any missteps, any moments of vulnerability that might expose his true identity.

There was a price to pay for living a double life, though, and Nash felt it keenly. As he buckled up his chest protection and headed out to join the other riders, he realized he was lonely. Any shared camaraderie was false and he felt like a con artist being fake to good people who took him at face value.

The only person he could be himself with was Dolly and there was a small part of him that couldn’t quite take her off his suspect list. He wondered, though, if that was just an excuse he was giving himself to keep her at arm’s length.

And yet, despite the constant strain of keeping up appearances, Nash couldn’t deny that there was something strangely intoxicating about the rodeo world—the raw energy ofthe crowd, the lure of danger and excitement. Being undercover was almost like being back in the field again.

“Hey there, Nash,” a voice drawled from behind him. “You look about as excited to be here as a steer at a branding.”

Nash turned to see Barney, one of the rodeo clowns he’d befriended over the past year and a half. “Just thinking about how I’m going to stay on Tornado,” he said, forcing a half-smile.

“Guts will get you on the bull, but it’s skill that keeps you there.”

“Skill, huh?”

“Yup. And a little bit of crazy. Just grip him with your knees and keep your ass in the saddle,” Barney replied, slapping Nash on the back.

Yeah, like it was that easy, Nash thought. But he kept that sentiment to himself, instead saying, “I can do that.”

“Damn straight,” Barney declared, adjusting his oversized suspenders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to make a few thousand people laugh.”

“Knock ’em dead,” Nash said, forcing a smile.

As he watched Barney strut off toward the arena, Nash felt a flicker of envy. The rodeo might be a far cry from the life he’d known as an FBI agent, but at least it was honest work. Barney was doing something he loved, something Nash desperately missed. He supposed if he was getting any traction on the investigation, he might have felt differently.

But for now, all he could do was watch and keep up appearances, waiting for the day when he could finally step out of the shadows and bring his sister Blevins’s head on a proverbial platter. Until then, he’d have to hold on tight and ride it out like the rest of the cowboys, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t get tossed on his ass.

Again.

“Hey, Weaver!” called out a voice, as Nash was heading into the chutes for his ride. He turned to see Finn Laker, the UPRC’s newest all-star. “You’re up next. Think you can handle Tornado?”

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

If Finn was the golden child of the rodeo, Nash was on the opposite end of the spectrum. He had the worst record in the league and people were starting to grumble about Nash being at events while more qualified cowboys had been edged out. This was the first ride of the season and he needed to score high enough to stop the gossip and rumors. He had to stay with the UPRC, to unearth Blevins’s secrets without revealing his own. The balance was precarious, like riding a bull—one wrong move and he’d be thrown.

Nash got into position while the rodeo hands steadied Tornado into the chute. The bull was a big, mean son-of-a-bitch, but that described most of the bulls. Settling on the bull’s wide back, Nash adjusted his grip on the bull rope.

“Eight seconds. That’s all you need,” Finn said, as the gate swung open.

Nash needed to do this. For Shelby.

The gate burst open, and Tornado exploded into the ring. With a surge of adrenaline and determination, Nash held on tight as Tornado bucked and twisted, trying to shake him loose. The roar of the crowd and the pounding of hooves filled his ears, drowning out the doubts and fears that plagued him. For those brief moments, he was a bull rider—nothing more, nothing less. Nash’s world narrowed to the violent jerks and twists beneath him. Muscle and sinew strained against the fury of the bull, his focus laser-sharp on maintaining his precarious grip. Eight seconds stretched into an eternity until finally, the buzzer sounded, and Nash was flung from Tornado’s back like a rag doll tossed by an angry child.

The sweetest sound he had ever heard was that eight-second buzzer. He had managed to stay on the damned thing. Maybe those lessons with Trent over the winter break had paid off after all. He dismounted and stumbled away from the heaving beast who was panting from the exertion. Nash could relate. He ignored his own shaky legs while he returned to the back area where the VIP fans were allowed. All he wanted was a shower and a beer, though.

“Nash,” Dolly called out as she moved through the crowd with an infectious energy that made people stop and stare. She was like a magnet, pulling people toward her with her contagious laughter and genuine charm. He watched her with fascination, admiring the way the sunlight danced in her blond hair. She was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Too bad she was such a pain in his ass.

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