The Twins' Rodeo Rider

Suz frowned. “Let her complain. We did nothing wrong.”

Cisco perked at the sound of “we” on Suz’s sweet lips, very much liking the “we’re in this together” medley. “Besides which, I have a plan to completely neutralize our town tattletale.”

“Watch it,” Squint reminded him, “again, that’s my girl we’re talking about.”

“Precisely. And I have a thunderbolt of inspiration about your girl,” Cisco said. “Squint, Mr. Leg Cramp Extraordinaire, is going to take my place on Saturday.”

The room went dead silent as everyone stared at him.

“To what end?” Squint demanded.

“If Daisy needs to win someone, then it should be you. That will undo the curse—”

“Charm!” everyone reminded him.

“And Squint will then be the object of this matchmaker-created charm.”

“How do you know that’s how we got the charm?” Suz asked. “It’s top secret. Only a few people know.”

Cisco looked at Suz. “What’s top secret?”

“Never mind,” Suz said. “Continue with your idea.”

“His explosion of brain cells is top secret,” Sam said.

“His deviation from the norm,” Squint said. “I don’t like how you’re trying to cheat my lady out of her win.” He wagged a finger at Cisco. “I know when you’re trying to think up an outside-the-box strategy, watched you do it many times in Afghanistan. And this feels like that.”

“It always worked, didn’t it?” His friends nodded. Cisco took great pride in his ability to strategize when things look bleak—and right now, they were bleak. “Daisy will win Squint, because he, not I, will be at the finish line. The charm will ricochet on to Squint, and he will get the woman of his dreams, and I’ll be free. Happy ending for all,” he said cheerily, settling back with a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin clutched in one hand and his whiskey in the other. “Let the applause begin.”

Suz hopped to her feet, not applauding. “You don’t think I can win.”

Cisco hesitated. “Now, I didn’t say that—”

“Yeah, you did,” Sam said. “Pretty much you did.”

“It’s implied,” Squint said, “and it’s a bit sad, if you ask me.”

He wasn’t about to bring up Suz’s lack of swimming prowess, but wasn’t it obvious he was trying to save her from embarrassment? And holy hell, he didn’t want anywhere near this top-secret whatchamagig charm thing, just in case it did work. He was not winding up at an altar with Daisy Donovan, thus losing the woman of his dreams, and taking Squint’s, which would mean losing a good buddy.

This called for clear digestion of cold, hard facts. “Suz, beautiful, you really don’t swim. It’s more of a dog paddle that goes sort of circular. It keeps you from drowning, but that’s its main utilitarian function.”

His buddies drew in sharp breaths, gave him the no-no-no slashing signs to signal him to silence himself before it was too late.

It was too late.

Suz went to the door. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Squint, be at the finish line. Be sure you have a warm blanket waiting for me, and get your pucker ready.”

She went out as cold gushed in the door, slamming it behind her.

“Smooth,” Sam observed.

“Oh, boy,” Squint said, “you’ve stepped in a big ol’ pile of steamy trouble you are never getting off your boot.”

Cisco ate his muffin in silence, dreading Saturday even more, now that his sweet ’n’ petite dollface had mentioned puckering to Squint. She’d talked about a pucker once to him, saying kissing him would force her to pucker like she’d bit into a grapefruit.

But she hadn’t said that to Squint. In fact, she’d sounded like the pucker she had waiting for him was going to be served up with a smile.

Chapter Four

In the end, Suz won the race handily, due to Daisy coming up with a leg cramp in the last fifty yards—a Squint-styled leg cramp, Cisco presumed, realizing now that the fix had been in, thanks to his dumb bright idea. With a couple hundred people posted along the banks of Bridesmaids Creek with hot cocoa, pompons and enthusiastic yells for both wet-suit-wearing women, Daisy must have calculated enough effort to put in a great show, then pulled up—because she didn’t want Squint.

She wanted Cisco.

Surprised by how many folks turned out for this event—both in-towners and out-of-towners, Cisco realized BC had their charmed ways, which made them money and made them special. It didn’t matter whether the charms were real or not, but what did matter was Suz giving Squint the kiss Cisco wanted.

Realizing he was now double-cursed—double-charmed, call it how you saw it—Cisco knew he had one option left to him. So he packed up his stuff, turned his notice in to Justin Morant, Suz’s sister Mackenzie’s husband, tossed his duffel into his truck and headed to the rodeo circuit.

Just plain ol’ Frog now. “I apparently am the frog that got put back in the pond,” he said, turning on some country-western tunes to commiserate with him as he sang his way into New Mexico. He’d start off in Santa Fe, work his way into shape.

Thought about Suz’s swimming skills a lot on the way, and how happy she’d looked rising out of the water, victorious. The blue-haired sylph had put a lot of effort into refining her stroke over the week, and a little shame crept into him that he’d doubted her.

That was not hero material. No wonder she’d not even glanced his way at the finish line.

So tonight was his first ride. Frog got his number pinned on, went to shoot the breeze with the fellows. It wasn’t going to be easy to establish the kind of friendships he had with his team back in BC. But when you were a renegade persona non grata, you bucked up and moved along.

“How you doing, buddy?” Someone clapped him on the back, but Frog didn’t see who it was as they went by. He waited for his name to be called, rode a respectable ride, but without a decent enough number to make it into the next round he pushed on to the next rodeo.

Two weeks later, the blue-haired angel of his dreams appeared beside the chute in Arizona where his bull was about to be loaded. “Suz!”

She nodded. “Yes. You big chicken-hearted weasel.”

“I suppose I deserve that.”

“You do deserve that.” She glared at him. “After you ride, I want to talk to you, buster.”

Gladly was what he wanted to say. His eyes ate her up. “Okay. I’ll be out in eight,” he said, posturing a little.

She scoffed and went to the grandstand. He grinned. “Things are looking up, ol’ buddy,” he told the bull being loaded. “Look out for me. My name is all over you.”

The bull thought little of his comments, and tossed him in under two seconds—well, maybe two seconds, but the guys later said it was doubtful—and stomped him a little just to make his point. Frog writhed in the gritty arena, helped out quick by a couple of bullfighters.

Suz met him, her eyes huge. “Are you all right?”

“Except for a missing gizzard or two, I should be fine. Maybe my stomach muscles are papier-mâché, but they should strengthen back up eventually. A year from now,” he said, falling with a groan into the chair the bullfighters steered him to. A rodeo doctor ran over, checking him out, proclaiming he just needed rest and TLC and maybe some kisses for his ouchies.

Nobody laughed. Even Frog knew it had been a near thing.

“Come on, you big baby.” Suz helped him to his feet. “Where’s your room?”

“I sleep in my truck,” he said, feeling pain radiate from the roof of his mouth to the soles of his feet.

“Well, we’re getting a room.”

“I like the sound of that,” he said, meaning he could use a lengthy lie-down in a real bed to try to get his innards back to 3-D shape and regular form rather than smashed flat as peanut butter.

“Settle down, cowboy. I’m going to nurse you back to health, and that’s it.”

“Thank you,” he managed to gasp out as she folded him into a human accordion into his own truck and drove to find a hotel. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you. I came to bless you out for being such a faithless knucklehead. I’m not surprised at all to see you in this shape. You’re clearly a man who doesn’t learn easily.”

“This may be true.” He caught a whiff of perfume and something else sweet, like sexy woman, something he hadn’t smelled in his truck in a long time. “That’s the only reason you’re here? You could have blessed me out by cell phone.”

“Not near as satisfying as in person.” She stopped outside a cozy B and B and looked at him. “Looks like doilies for drapes. Can you handle this much toile and chintz?”

“All I do is toil and whatever else you said.” He felt like he was time traveling out of his head a bit. “Good luck finding a room.”

“Be right back.”

He sighed when she left because the intoxicating scent went with her. God, he was glad to see her. Shocked as all get-out, but glad.

And that’s when it hit him like a bundle of thunderbolts sent from above: he had a thing for Suz Hawthorne. And not just any old thing—he was head over heels for her. Irretrievably and irrevocably. From the stiffy in his jeans to the grin on his face when she was around, he was in love with that little fireball.

She tore open his door, jumping him clean out of his stupefied reverie. “She has one room. For the record, we’re married.”

“Hot damn.” She helped him out of the truck, a slow, painful effort on his behalf. “I knew you’d get me one way or another. That swim must have worked, after all.”

“Just keep walking to bungalow number three, and if you could turn the motor off your mouth, it would be ever so nice.”

“That BC shtick knew you were meant to be mine,” he said, groaning torturously when she helped him to the bed. He climbed in ungracefully. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to provide you with any marital bliss at the moment.”

She laughed, and it kind of flattened his ego again.

“I’m going out to get us some food. Lie there and don’t do anything else stupid.”

Suz flashed out the door. Frog tossed his hat away. “Stupid?” he asked. “Anything else stupid?”

What had she meant by that? He couldn’t remember doing anything stupid. She hadn’t put the remote by him, and he was too sore to reach the cell phone in his back pocket, so he lay there like a suffering succotash until he awakened, realizing she was back in his room, and he smelled the delicious fragrance of home-cooked food.

“You shouldn’t have, beautiful,” he said.

“Shouldn’t have what?”

“Cooked for me.” He sniffed the air again without opening his eyes. “Smells like the Hanging H in here. I’ve missed that place.”

“That’s nice. Try to get some of this soup down your fast-talking gullet.”

Well, that didn’t sound very nice. Frog started to question her comment, realized the soup was quite tasty. “Why are you really here?”

“I told you. I want a baby.”

Alarm bells sounded in his head. He sat up, pushed the soup away. “Wait. I don’t remember any conversation about a baby.”

She laughed. “Just seeing how out of it you really are.”

“I’m not that out of it.” In fact, not only was he in pain right now, he was good and rattled. “Wait a minute, you’re not here on a baby-making mission, are you? Because that’s what Jade did to Ty, you know, and before he knew it, he was...”

She looked at him and his words trailed off. “He was what?”

“Well, married. First he was a father, of course, which he was the last one to know about, and then he was married.” Now that he thought about it, that string of events actually had a nice ring to it. “Hey! I didn’t like you kissing Squint! It looked a little enthusiastic to me, especially for a girl who’d just swum a race and should have been lacking oxygen.”

She gave him a look he would distinctly term as disbelieving. “Don’t be an ape. I don’t ask who you kiss.”

“I haven’t kissed anyone! Not since Ty dragged us all to BC for brides.” He frowned. “Now that I think about that, that’s unnatural. Kiss me.”

“I don’t think so. Eat.”

“You kissed Squint.” He didn’t want to eat. What he wanted was Suz’s mouth, and she didn’t seem too inclined to share those sexy lips of hers. “That doesn’t seem right. You would have kissed me, if I’d been at the finish line.” He experienced some serious regret that he’d had such little faith in his blue-streaked bombshell. “And you didn’t seem too pained about kissing him, either.”

“It was like kissing a big old gummy bear. Soft, and kind of sweet.” She dug a brownie out of the bag for him. “You weren’t at the finish line, so you forfeited.”

This didn’t sound promising. “So why are you really here?” Maybe she’d pursue the baby angle again. That at least sounded like it might culminate in some kissing.

“Because the committee has decided that a third race is going to have to be run.”

“What?” Frog put down his brownie. “Why?”

“Because you cheated the magic, and Daisy’s raising the roof. Says you didn’t operate under good faith and then ran off like a scared dog.” Suz looked at him and shook her head. “As much as I like to disagree with Daisy about anything and everything, she has a right to her grievance.”

“I don’t get it.” What was the deal with this town and their competitive streak?

“Daisy did win you fair and square the first time. I challenged for you, but you cheated the magic, so the committee has decided that the tie must be broken.”

“How?” He was agog by the fact that Suz would have come this far to tell him all this, which let him know the situation was serious. “What if I don’t want to come back?” This was going to start the whole you-didn’t-believe-I-could-win thing with Suz, too, and that was trouble he didn’t want between them right now. After all, he was in a comfy bed, and she was sitting on it, and romance could happen if a man was patient, right?

“If you don’t come back, I’m afraid Squint will never get Daisy.”

“Daisy doesn’t want Squint. He’s not the catch he thinks he is,” Frog groused. “I appear to be said catch.”

“And we can’t figure out why.” Suz shook her head, shooting his confidence chock-full of holes. “You certainly haven’t proven yourself on the field of battle.”

His jaw dropped. “I most certainly did!”

“BC’s field of battle,” she said. “Our battles are different.”

“I’ll say.” He was entirely disgruntled now. “Jeez, a guy makes a little mistake, and he pays. Let the wrong woman decide he’s sex candy, and he’s toast.”

“Cisco,” Suz said, and he perked up, realizing that he was Cisco again and not the hapless Frog, “it really hurt my feelings that you didn’t believe I’d win the race.”

There was the crux of the matter. He’d been a real heel, and he knew it. “I’m sorry about that, Suz. I really am. I was trying to make life easier for everyone.”

“We’re not about easy in BC. We’re about the magic.”

“I just don’t believe much in airy-fairy stuff.”

“It’s because you don’t let yourself feel it.”

“I don’t know. I got dragged to those Twilight movies. I’m telling you, I laughed at all that supposed angst. I think I’m a straight-line kind of guy, no deviating.”

“It’s probably a SEAL thing,” Suz said.

“No, Squint’s superstitious as hell. And Sam, whoa. He won’t even pet a black cat.” He bit into the brownie, which was very good, but not as good as Suz’s mouth would be, he was quite certain. “I wore a saint medal in Afghanistan that Squint gave me. Saint Michael.” He pulled it out of his shirt to show her. “I think it saved my life.”

She smiled. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

He glanced around the blue-and-white room. Suz was right: there were a few delicate doilies in the smallish room, but it was a comfortable place. The bed comforter was soft and puffy, the sheets clean and soft. The bed itself was large, but not too large that he couldn’t envision himself eventually wrapping himself around Suz’s cute, sexy little bod. There was an en suite bath, and two lamps with stained glass on either side of the bed. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, more gruffly than he intended.

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” She got up, pulled a blanket from the large closet and an extra pillow from the shelf, tossed them onto the floor. “Get some rest. You’re going to feel the pain by morning.”

He set the brownie down, put the sack of food on the nightstand. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been driving all day to find you. I’m going to sleep. Good night.” She snuggled down into her pallet, which did look quite comfy, but which wasn’t his bed.

“Get in bed. I promise I won’t touch you.” He wouldn’t like keeping that promise, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her sleeping on the floor.

“I’m fine. I was in the Peace Corps. This is heaven compared to some of the places I’ve slept. Will you turn off the lamp when you’re ready?”

Cisco leaned back against the pillow. This was not good. She belonged up here with him, in his arms.

But as she’d so gently pointed out, he hadn’t proved himself on the field of BC battle. In fact, it sounded like the town thought he had some ground to make up, some refurbishing of his reputation.

Which he had a feeling meant he was getting none of Suz until he performed said miracle. “Hey, Suz,” he said, leaning back over the bed to stare down at her.

She was tucked nicely into her nest of covers. She looked up at him. “Yes?”

“What kind of race are they wanting to run this time? And when is it?”

“It’s in a week. Next Saturday.”

He hesitated. There was a plum-size goiter on his ankle from where he’d gotten a little extra stomp from the bull, not to mention his general soreness and the fact that he felt like a gingerbread man, pretty one-dimensional. “You want me to swim in a week?”

Suz yawned, a delicate yawn that had him arrested by the sight of perfect teeth and a pink tongue, and a mouth he wished would kiss him. “Actually, the committee thinks the tie will go to the runner.”

“You mean it’s a Best Man’s Fork run?” This was even worse. In water, where he had the most skills and would at least be buoyant, maybe his body would hold up.

“Yes.” She smiled at him. “You should rest up. You’re going to need the restorative powers of sleep.”

He stared down into those gorgeous eyes, sunk in desire for her. “I’m going to be running with one leg tied behind my back, so to speak.”

“Now you know how I felt. I expect you’ll rise to the occasion. Good night, Cisco.” Suz rolled over, nestling down, and Cisco turned off the lamp.

He was beginning to wonder if all of Bridesmaids Creek was conspiring against him ever getting the girl. There was certainly nothing magical about their particular brand of matchmaking where he was concerned.

And he wasn’t quite sure how to turn the tide his way.

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