Page 3 of A Cowboy Of Her Own

“I hate to tell you this but when he loses, he’s not interested in a woman. He just likes to be alone. But I just won if you’d like to get a drink together?” He grinned at her and ran his finger along her arm. She jerked away from him. He was nice looking but he was no Roark Callahan. Priscilla shook her head.

“I’ve already talked with him. That’s why I’m waiting.” She grinned.

The man straightened up. “Really? Well, I can’t say as I blame him. You sure are a looker.”

What a charmer.Priscilla mentally groaned. She was about to reply when the door beside her opened, and Roark stepped out. He smelled fantastic. His hair was still damp on the ends, his black cowboy hat was sitting low on his forehead, and she had thought he looked good in the white one. She watched as he narrowed his eyes at the other cowboy.

“What are you doing, Burke?” he asked as he slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and stared at the man.

“Not a thing, Callahan. She looked lonely waiting for you. I was just going to keep her company until you came out. I just thought she’d rather spend time with a winner.”

“Let’s go,” Roark said and started walking away. Priscilla followed him.

“Maybe she can make you feel better about your loss, Callahan.”

Roark stopped and turned around causing Priscilla to scurry to the side or get hit with his duffle bag. “I’ll be back. You can bet your ass on that. I will win that buckle back.”

Burke laughed. “I’m sure you think so. I’ll see you in Butte.”

“Damn right you will,” Roark muttered then set his gaze on Priscilla. “Maybe you’d like to follow him around instead?”

“No thanks. He’s an asshole.”

“Nailed it.” Roark chuckled and started to walk again. Priscilla hurried to stay with him.

“I’ll need to return my rental. Can you follow me there?”

Roark sighed. “Yes. Damn, I just want to get home.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s all right. I just hate the fact that Burke beat me. He’s such a prick.”

“I noticed. Can I ask you some questions while we walk?”

He stopped and looked at her. “I thought you said this wasn’t an interview?”

“It’s not, really it’s not. I just want to have some other things to put in the article besides what you do all day when you’re not competing.”

“Yeah, sure.” He started walking again, his stride much longer than hers.

“How long have you been on the rodeo circuit?”

“Since I was twenty-two—ten years—I started out calf roping then went to bulls when I turned twenty-five.”

“That long? Doesn’t your body hurt?”

“Oh, darlin', you have no idea.”

“Then why do it?”

He stopped again and looked at her. “Why do you write for a magazine?”

“I love it.”

His obvious answer was an abrupt nod, and then he began walking again, somewhat faster than necessary it seemed. She trotted to keep up with his long strides.

“How can you love being thrown around on an animal that size?”

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