Sarah Anderson – One Rodeo Season (страница 8)

The only thing that saved him from making a first-class fool of himself was Jack’s voice echoing in his mind—a good bullfighter waited. A bad one rushed in.

Ian would not rush this. Not her.

So, despite the signals her body was sending, he did not pull her into his arms and he did not take the kiss she appeared to be offering.

“Or what?”

But by God, it would be easier to not kiss her if she didn’t sound so soft and sweet. “Or I’ll work it off. I’ll help you load and unload the bulls when we’re at the same rodeos, make sure the assholes don’t treat you like crap.” He couldn’t help it, not when her eyes widened even more. He leaned forward, his voice dropping down a notch. “Either way, you’ll get it out of me.”

Then he waited. Either she’d punch him or kiss him or she’d walk off.

She didn’t do any of those. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, that voice of hers so soft without all the hard edges she usually used. “I’m nothing to you. You don’t even know me.”

“You’re not nothing. Not to me.” She sucked in a quick gasp of air. “And rodeo is a family. I was raised to look after my own.”

But even as he said the words, he could feel the ink over his heart start to burn, like he was having it carved into his skin all over again.

So it was a lie that he always looked out for his own. No one knew about Eliot, not even Ian’s cousin June. All she knew was that he’d been seeing two girls at the same time before he went off to college. Leasha had left the rez to have the baby and hadn’t told anyone she’d given the boy up.

Not even Ian. Not until the papers had arrived.

And Ian had— Well, he’d signed them.

He hadn’t taken care of his own son.

Ian rubbed the tattoo on his chest until the pain edged back again.

“A...family,” she said, turning back to the bulls. She sounded very faraway.

“We’re not all like Salzberg or Slim,” Ian felt obligated to point out. “Some of us are decent human beings. My partner, Jack, is a good guy. There’s the Preacher, Randy—heck, even Garth is okay, if you get him before he’s had more than three beers.”

“You spend a lot of time with the riders?”

He shrugged. “I have connections.” She shot him a sideways look. “There’s always going to be the jerks who think you shouldn’t be here. Let’s just say I enjoy putting jerks in their proper places.”

As he’d done at that first rodeo he’d gone to with his cousin June. She’d been climbing the ranks of professional riders, but she’d had a problem with some of the riders. Ian had been more than happy to stand up for his cousin.

Before that rodeo, Ian had been an ex-football player without a team.

But after that rodeo? He was a bullfighter.

“No strings?” Lacy asked, a hint of worry at the edge of her eyes. She didn’t trust him. Not yet, a quiet voice whispered in his ear.

“No strings,” he agreed. Then he stuck out his hand. “Friends?”

She regarded him for a long second. Then she slipped her small hand into his, gave him a brief squeeze, and yanked her hand back. “Don’t get carried away,” she told him.

He grinned at her. Oh, she was a piece of work, but really, he didn’t expect anything less from her. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“HEARD YOU GOT into it with Salzberg,” Jack said, giving Ian a look. “Can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

Ian bristled. “He had Lacy pinned against her trailer. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

That got Jack’s eyebrows up and moving. “Lacy, is it?”

There were days that talking with Jack was like talking with Ian’s father, Dave Tall Chief. Dave had a way of making Ian feel as if he was still fourteen, big and wild and more than a little stupid.

This, apparently, was one of those days. “I reckon that girl can take care of herself,” Jack said, lazily scratching his throat.

They were sitting behind the chutes. The rodeo didn’t start for another hour, but the crowd had started to filter into the outdoor arena as people jockeyed for the best seats. The stock contractors were loading the bulls in order.

He looked around, but he didn’t see Lacy. All he saw were bull riders strapping on their spurs and chaps or rosining up their bull ropes.

Every athlete needed a pregame ritual to get their head into the game, he thought. When Ian had played football, he’d needed to smash helmets or bump chests with his teammates.

Ian and Jack had some collapsible chairs that they set up next to their watercooler. Jack liked to watch the bulls and try to guess which ones would give him the most trouble. Ian always had a hard time sitting still for this part—he’d always been a little hyper. But today was worse than normal. He wanted to find Lacy and make sure she was all right. At the same time, he was sure that doing anything remotely like that would get him in trouble.

More trouble than he was in, anyway. “I don’t see what the big deal is. I watch your back. Why shouldn’t I watch hers, too?” Jack snorted, so Ian went on. “I thought you were the one who told me that rodeo is a family and we look out for each other.”

Jack sat forward, his massive biceps straining at his white T-shirt. Ian was big—but Jack was bigger. “I’ve fought too damn hard to prove that I’m not some gangbanger playing at cowboys and Indians for you to toss that aside for some chick. You dig?”

Ian glared at his friend. “All I’m saying is that we stick together because we don’t fit in with them,” he said, nodding toward where the all-white rodeo riders were gearing up. “And Lacy doesn’t fit with them, either. You know some of them don’t want her here because she’s a woman. How’s that any different from someone calling us names?”

“This ain’t the Land of the Misfit Toys, man,” Jack drawled in his strongest Texas accent. He only busted it out when he was being condescending—or when he was trying to pick up buckle bunnies. Either way, it grated on Ian’s nerves.

“Like hell it isn’t.” Ian spotted her. She’d walked up alongside the chutes, her eyes on the bulls. “I’m keeping an eye on her,” he stated. “If you decide to grow a pair and man up, you can do the same. I won’t tell—it’ll be our little secret that big, mean Black Jack Johnson’s got a soft spot for misfits.”

“Boy,” Jack growled, “that mouth is going to get you into a lot of trouble one of these days.” But he slumped back into his chair, the fight gone from his body.

“Too late,” Ian said cheerfully. He’d won this round. Winning wasn’t everything, but sometimes, it came close. “What do you know about that Slim fellow?”

“Slim Smalls?” Black Jack chuckled. “He’s an ass. Always has been. There are some that don’t think a black man should be in the arena and Slim is always leading that charge.”

“The more things change?” Ian asked.

“The more they stay the same,” Jack agreed. “But his bulls are rank and he knows how to grease the wheels. Got friends in high places and all that crap.”

“And the Straight Arrow?”

Jack shrugged. “Man...”

“Come on, Jack. You know everything and everyone. I don’t know a thing.”

“Wait!” Jack dug his phone out of his pocket and held it up. “Say that again, Chief. I want it on the record.”

“Ha-ha. But you know what I mean. She said she’d lost her traveling partner.”

“Honest to God, I don’t remember a lady stock contractor,” Jack replied, pocketing his phone again. “I want to say that the Straight Arrow was owned by a guy named Dale? If I’m remembering right, nice guy. Never made a big deal about me one way or the other. Quiet, kept to himself.” He gave Ian a blank look. “I suppose you’re gonna want me to ask around.”

Ian shrugged. “Don’t put yourself out, man. I do have my own connections.” He could always call Travis Younkin, June’s husband and a former world-class bull rider in his own right. Travis would make a few phone calls and get back to Ian with all kinds of information.

But then, Ian could have already done that. And he hadn’t.

He wanted to know. But for some ridiculous reason, he wanted her to tell him.

Like yesterday, when she’d finally told him her first name. He could have found out, but it was sweeter hearing the name come out of her mouth because he’d earned it. The fact that she trusted him with her real name was powerful stuff.

He wanted to show her that men weren’t all Slims and Jeromes. He wanted...

Well, hell. He didn’t want to be the man he’d been seven years ago.

Ian realized he was rubbing the ink over his heart again. “We gonna get to Vegas this year?” he asked Jack.

Jack notched an eyebrow at Ian. “Might,” he drawled. “Assuming you stop pulling dumb-ass stunts like you did last week. Why?”

“No reason.”

Except for Eliot. Ian knew the boy and his family lived in Las Vegas. If Ian could get to Vegas, maybe he could see if Eliot’s folks would bring the boy to the rodeo. Maybe, after all this time, Ian could meet his son.

He found himself looking at Lacy again. What would a woman like her think of a man like him, if she knew about Eliot? Would she think he was a deadbeat dad? A serial womanizer who didn’t care what happened to the women he loved and left?

Would she still trust him with her name?

Jack stood up and began to stretch. Ian did the same. They’d get loosened up, don their matching work shirts and suffer through the opening rounds of the same tired jokes that the rodeo clowns used at every stop along the way. Then it was time to dance with the devils in the late-summer light.