The Bull Rider's Valentine. Cathy McDavid

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      “Isn’t this past summer about the time you started your school?” Nate asked.

      Technically, Ronnie had started the school this past spring, after her father had gifted her with a share of his lottery winnings. Wanting to sound more qualified, she answered, “I’ve been a barrel racing and Western horsemanship instructor at Powell Ranch for over three years. It’s only recently I went out on my own.”

      There. That sounded good. And professional. She’d gotten her point across without bragging.

      “What have you and your beautiful wife been up to lately?” Nate asked Hugh. “Besides having a family?”

      “Working our tails off. Jessica and I own three Sandwich Nirvana shops. All of them in the Phoenix area.”

      “No kidding! I love your French dip.”

      “Me, too.” Hugh grinned proudly. “It’s our bestseller.”

      “How’d you go from rodeoing to sandwich shop entrepreneur?”

      “We always wanted to own our own business. After I retired from competition, we checked into several franchises. Sandwich Nirvana was the best fit.”

      Hugh rambled on about his successes. Growing his first shop into three, buying a six-acre home in Mustang Valley with all the amenities, sending his children to the best private school in the area, as well as taking the family on a trip to Alaska.

      Commendable, for sure, though Ronnie thought he might be going a bit overboard. Funny thing, the longer Hugh talked, the quieter Nate became.

      When Hugh finally paused for air, he asked, “What about you, Nate? What have you been doing since retiring?”

      “A little of everything. Traveling, primarily—mostly around the southwest. Nothing as far away as Alaska.”

      Hmmm, Ronnie pondered. He seemed to have a habit of giving vague answers.

      “With all your talent and titles,” Hugh continued, “I figured you’d be competing a lot longer than you did or moving into a related field. Didn’t Rocky Mountain Rodeo Equipment make you a pretty slick offer?”

      Nate twirled his bottle, watching the last of his beer slosh around in the bottom. “Unfortunately that fell through, along with a couple other deals.”

      “Happens sometimes. Business has its downside.”

      “Weren’t you in some kind of accident?” Jessica scrunched her mouth in concentration. “A fall from a horse?”

      That was right! How could Ronnie have forgotten? It had happened about a month after she’d left him. Mutual friends had told her Nate fell from a horse he was riding and that, though injured, he would recover. She’d been relieved and debated reaching out to him. Ultimately, she hadn’t, convinced he’d reject her effort.

      “Yeah,” Nate admitted with a mirthless chuckle. “Seven years riding bulls, the last five professionally, and my knee was fractured by a two-year-old colt barely fourteen hands high. That’s what I get for thinking I could break a green horse.”

      “What a shame,” Hugh commiserated. “Injuries have ended more than one career. You out for good?”

      “Much to my parents’ and agent’s disappointment.” Nate’s attempt at levity fell flat, as evidenced by the somber expressions of everyone at the table.

      “Much to your many fans’ disappointment,” Jessica added quickly.

      Hugh pointed at Nate’s beer, the universal signal for inquiring if he wanted another one.

      Nate shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m driving.”

      “I notice you aren’t limping. And you’re still young enough. Ever considered returning?”

      “Doc told me if I injure the knee again, I might lose use of the leg for good.”

      Ronnie hadn’t heard that part of the story.

      “Which brings you to where you are today,” Hugh said.

      Again, Nate redirected the conversation by pointing to the posters on the wall. “What do you think about the recreational rodeo arena under construction? Instead of mechanical bulls, customers can now ride real bulls.”

      Ronnie observed Nate while he talked, trying to pinpoint what was different about him. The Nate from her past had been an open book. He hadn’t practiced the fine art of deflection, and he certainly hadn’t been mysterious.

      Admittedly, she was intrigued and not because he was someone she’d once loved.

      Before too long Bess came over to their table.

      “Sorry to bother you folks.” She smiled eagerly at Nate. “Any chance you and I can chat about that matter we discussed earlier?”

      Matter? Ronnie was instantly curious.

      Nate scooted back from the table, his glance encompassing the Carringtons and Ronnie. “If you don’t mind...”

      “Course not.” Hugh shook his hand. “Hope to see you around.”

      Jessica wouldn’t settle for anything less than a hug. “It was such a pleasure chatting with you.”

      “Same here.”

      Ronnie offered neither her hand nor a hug. She’d be seeing him tomorrow, after all, during Sam’s practice. Hating herself for it, she watched him walk away. He and Bess didn’t stop at the bar, instead continuing toward the door leading out back.

      “I wonder what that’s about,” Hugh mused.

      Ronnie wondered as well but said nothing.

      Eventually, she and the Carringtons returned to discussing Star Shine. Ronnie was prepared to go the distance with her pitch. It proved unnecessary.

      “If Nate thinks highly of your horse training abilities,” Hugh said, “that’s good enough for us. We’ll take Star Shine. When do you want us to pick her up?”

      “When’s a convenient time for you?”

      Hugh wanted another drink to celebrate their deal. Thankfully, Jessica nixed the suggestion and insisted they head home.

      “You ladies ready?” Hugh swept his keys and phone off the table.

      Ronnie knew she should go with them; she’d parked her truck two spaces down from theirs...

      “You go on. I have something to do first.”

      Jessica grabbed Hugh’s arm and gave a little wave with her free hand. “Have a good night.”

      Ronnie strolled past the bar, saying a brief hello to Theo McGraw and a woman who boarded her horse at Powell Ranch. They probably assumed she was visiting the restroom. Once around the corner, she made straight for the back door, not at all sure what she’d give as an excuse if she encountered СКАЧАТЬ