Page 1 of A Cowboy Of Her Own

Chapter One

The wind whooshed out of RoarkOutlawCallahan when he hit the sawdust-covered floor, causing pain to rip through him as he tried to catch his breath.Get up! Run!His brain screamed at him to move but he couldn’t breathe enough to stand, let alone run. All other sights and sounds disappeared except for the pounding hooves of the bull. Resigned to it, he waited for the bull to trample him but it never happened. Someone grabbed his arms and dragged him across the sawdust floor to the fence. Once there, he took deep breaths, and opened his eyes in time to see the bullfighters running around the bull, and finally corralling him through the gate.

“Are you all right, Outlaw?”

Roark turned his head to stare up at his friend, Hoyt Billings, and then shook his head to clear the cobwebs.

“Yeah, just had the wind knocked out of me, is all. Did I make it?”

“No.”

“What the hell do you meanno? I thought I heard the buzzer.” Roark clenched his jaw against the pain still coursing through him and the disappointment of having it all been for nothing.

Hoyt slapped him on the shoulder making him wince. “That was probably the ringing in your ears from when you flew through the air.”

Roark pushed himself up grimacing against the pain he knew would leave him stiff as a board in the morning. “Son of a bitch. That bull is going to be the death of me.”

Hoyt laughed. “Captain Crush sure as helldoesn’t like you on his back.”

Climbing to his feet, Roark waved to the crowd when they started cheering for him. He gave a fake smile.

“That’s it, buddy. Let them think you’re happy with the ride.” Hoyt laughed.

“Fuck off, Billings.” Roark turned and climbed the rails, swung his legs over then jumped down and doubled over in pain. He straightened up and strode down through the aisle. Cowboys tipped their hats at him or slapped him on the back as he passed. Buckle bunnies tried to surround him but he wasn’t interested. He shook his head to hold them off as he made his way down the aisle of the arena then slapped his hand against the door to the men’s locker room, making it slam into the wall. He needed to take his chaps off, grab a quick shower, and change into cleaner clothes. Taking a seat on the bench, he untied the straps around his glove then pulled it off, and started to unbuckle his chaps when the door creaked opened.

“Mister Callahan…” The sound of a feminine voice was not what he wanted to hear right now.

Aw hell!

“Sorry, darlin’, I’m not interested,” Roark said without looking up.

“You don’t even know why I’m here––”

“Sure I do. You buckle bunnies always want to soothe away the aches and pains.”

“Buckle—you think I’m abuckle bunny?”

“Why else would you be back here in the men’s locker room?” He stood and continued to unbuckle his chaps.

“Hold it right there. I amnota buckle bunny. I’m a writer with Western Cowboy magazine.”

“Hell, that’s even worse,” Roark muttered, but then he turned to look at her and lost all coherent thought. She was breathtaking. Her long copper-colored hair flowed past her shoulders in loose curls. A pert nose sat above one hell of a sexy pair of lips. A mole sat at the right corner above those lips but her porcelain skin was otherwise, flawless. Her eyes, the color of summer grass, peered at him through thick, lush lashes behind green eyeglasses.

Son of a bitch!His dick wanted to bust out of his jeans because it had been too long a while since he’d had sex. His eyes skimmed down her body, taking in the tight red T-shirt hugging her breasts, and then down skinny jeans to some kind of fancy sandals with heels. Bright red polish covered her toenails making him mentally shake his head.Definitely not the right footwear for a rodeo…for neither watching nor participating.

“Could you just give me a minute?” she asked him.

“A minute for what? I’m not interested in doing an interview right now. I just want to go home and soak in my hot tub.”

“I’m not real thrilled about this either, but my boss said he had talked to you about this and that you were fine with it.”

“I don’t recall talking to anyone about an interview.”

“It’s not really for an interview. I’m to follow you around the competition so I can write an article about it.”

“Follow me around? Darlin’, I’m going home. I didn’t make the next round,” Roark growled.

“Look, I have to write about you. Earl said you were fine with it.”

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