Rodeo Standoff. Susan Sleeman

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       TWO

      Tessa may have met Braden today for the first time, but after just five minutes of conversation, it was clear that he thought he knew what was best for her, and he was the last guy she wanted hanging around. His actions reminded her of his pushy behavior and cocky attitude back in the day. He’d won championship after championship, and it was obvious to anyone looking that his confidence knew no bounds. He became a big rodeo celebrity, and women in every town had tried to grab his attention. She’d seen them fawn over him, and he’d done nothing to reject the attention.

      Just like her former boyfriend Jason. After she’d quit traveling the rodeo circuit to focus on school, he continued touring without her and cheated on her. She’d dumped him on the spot as soon as she found out, but the pain of his betrayal still lingered. Now here she was letting Braden’s rugged masculinity get to her. Letting his smile affect her. Well, no longer. If she ever dated again—a big if—she would never ever fall for a guy like Braden Hayes.

      She glanced at him as he stood watching the bull. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his faded jeans. He’d pulled his hat low again, looking like a real-life cowboy. He tilted his head, his gaze filled with longing. For the sport he left behind?

      Odd. He’d voluntarily retired at the height of his success, so why the melancholy?

      Maybe he was thinking about his last ride, a particularly bad one. He’d gotten his glove hung up in the bull rope, and the bull had dragged him for quite some time before Braden broke free. She was amazed he’d managed to free himself. After the bull had thrown him, he’d had to get on his feet and pull his body up on the bull to relieve the pressure on the rope so he could slide his hand out. Who had the presence of mind to do that when an almost one-ton bull thrashed you around like a dog with a chew toy?

      She had to admit it would be a man who was good under pressure, like he’d shown himself to be just now with this raging bull. The massive beast hadn’t fazed him a bit. She found that confidence even more appealing than his looks.

      He sighed, then caught her watching him and gave a brief shake of his head.

      “You miss it,” she said.

      He nodded.

      “I don’t at all pretend to understand the urge to ride a bull, but I’ll understand the longing for the events come Monday.”

      He turned eyes the color of a stormy sky on her in a pensive gaze. “How’s that?”

      “This is my last competition. My horse, Copper, has health issues, and it’s best for him to retire.”

      “You could get another horse.”

      “No,” she said firmly. “Copper loves to race, and I’d feel like I was cheating on him with another horse. And even if I didn’t feel that way, when you barrel race, you’re putting your complete trust in something that doesn’t communicate with words. Takes a lot of training to succeed. I have far too much going on in my life to find time to train a new horse.”

      “At least I never had an emotional connection to a horse to worry about.” He smiled.

      “No, you just had to worry about keeping your body in one piece.” She ran her gaze over him. He was a good four inches taller than the typical five-foot-ten professional bull rider, and he was still fit. Really fit. In spite of herself, she was attracted to him. Drawn to him. To that smile. Those compelling eyes.

      He cleared his throat, and she suddenly realized she was staring at his chest. She jerked her head up to find his smile had turned flirty.

      “Do you recognize the bull?” she asked, quickly returning her focus back to where it needed to be.

      He let his eyes linger for a moment longer, awareness of her remaining, then shook his head. “I’ve been out of the business too long. Nowadays, I only know the top bucking bulls I see at the big PBR events.”

      “Hopefully, Harley can give us the owner’s information.”

      “If not, the bull’s ear is tagged, and we can check the RSR.”

      “RSR?” she asked.

      “Rodeo Stock Registry of North America, a genetic DNA database that holds parentage records and tracks offspring of bucking cattle.”

      She gestured at the arena’s main entrance. “Here comes Harley now. Let’s hope he can ID the bull, and we won’t have to go that route.”

      A dark-headed Goliath of a man dressed in jeans, boots and a big Stetson, Harley stormed across the arena carrying a white binder. He lifted his hat and swiped his arm over his forehead. “You sure you’re okay, Tessa?”

      “Fine, thanks to Braden.”

      “Harley Grainger.” He planted his hat on his head and held out his free hand for Braden. “Good to meet you in person. I’m sorry about the incident.”

      Braden took what looked to be a firm grip and shook Harley’s hand. “Think nothing of it. I was glad to help СКАЧАТЬ