Page 13 of Wild, Wild Cowboy

“All right,” Hannah said at last. “I’m no use in a physical altercation, but I think I could hurt someone’s feelings if I put my mind to it.”

I burst out laughing. “Hannah Bell, Iknowyou could.”

When her cheeks pinked up a bit, I shook my head and took her by the hand. This woman. She had no inkling that I’d only been teasing—teasing being my preferred method of flirting. I had expected her to giggle and tease me back, but no. This confounding woman continued to do the last thing I expected of anyone.

She took me seriously.

It wasn’t what I had wanted. But damn if it didn’t feel like exactly what I needed.

It was mid-morning, and the rodeo was still slowly coming to life. We had driven two hours south, which was about ten degrees warmer than Aspen Springs. Seventy-two and sunny, perfect rodeo weather. It was going to be a good day.

“What do we do first?” Hannah asked.

“Barrel racing starts in an hour,” I said. “Until then, we wander around and enjoy ourselves.”

“Well,” she said. “All right.”

She dropped my hand. That was fine. I barely even noticed. When was the last time I had held hands with a girl, anyway? Eleventh grade, maybe? It had to be, because that was also the last time I’d had a real girlfriend, the kind where handholding was something we did without thinking much about it. Shit, that was over a decade ago. A decade ago, and now Hannah for thirty seconds?—

“What’s mutton busting?” Hannah asked. She stood by the sheep pen, frowning at the sign that advertised mutton busting at ten a.m. “It’s not…people don’t punch sheep, do they?”

I chuckled. “No, nothing like that. It’s a kiddie event. Five-year-olds ride the sheep for as long as they can hold on.”

She looked downright horrified. “That doesn’t sound better.”

“They wear helmets, sugar. No one’s putting a bunch of babies on an animal without proper protection.”

“Did you ever do it?”

“Hell, yeah, I did.” I smiled, remembering. “It was the closest I could get to the real thing. Mom wasn’t thrilled about it, so one day I hopped right onto a neighbor’s ewe to show her I could do it. The ewe wasn’t too pleased about that and took off. Mom hollered, Mrs. Anderson hollered, but there wasn’t anything they could do to help me. It was about twenty minutes before the ewe decided I wasn’t worth the trouble and stopped to eat some grass. By the time I slid off, my arms were numb. Mom figured there was no point in saying no after that, and at least the rodeo would have some safety precautions, and I’d only be expected to hang on for a minute.”

Hannah looked at me like she was imagining it, her lips curved into a wry smile. “Five years old, and already a wild, wild cowboy.”

“Damn right,” I agreed.

After barrel racing,we grabbed lunch. There were a few women who glanced my way with recognition in their eyes, and I was quick to pull Hannah in front of me like a shield. Not out of necessity, but because I liked it. Only one of those women seemed to take it as a challenge. She tossed her hair with a smile that suggested we had seen each other naked and reached for my bicep, but Hannah shifted against me, blocking her hand.

“No, thank you,” she said firmly.

The woman paused and looked at me with confusion in her eyes. She looked familiar, and I tried to recall when I had last passed through this town, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember her name. I shrugged.

Her gaze dipped to Hannah’s, and whatever she saw there had her backing right on out of my personal space. I grinned. I couldn’t see Hannah’s face, but I had the feeling I knew the expression.

“You might as well hold my hand.” I twined our fingers together as I pulled her along to the bronc event. “Safer that way.”

“You realize you could just tell them no?”

“Of course I realize that. I also realize that I like it better whenyoutell them no.”

She scrunched her nose at me. “You just want me to do your dirty work.”

But she didn’t let go of my hand.

“You’re going to love this,”I told Hannah as we took front-row seats in the arena.

She settled onto the hard plastic seat with a swish of her skirt. “You might be biased. This is your event, so of course you think it’s the best one.”

“Itisthe best one,” I insisted. “Rodeo events are micro-tests of real-life cowboy skills. So you’ve got the roping tests and the riding tests. Roping events test a cowboy’s relationship with a well-trained horse. It’s about how well they do a job together. Bronc riding is different. It’s a test of how well you can ride when a horse wants nothing to do with you. It’s not about controlling the animal. It’s about instinct. It’s about the ride.” I stared out at the empty arena. I could almost feel the sweat on my neck, taste the adrenaline in my mouth. “But that’s not why I think you’ll love it.”

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