The Bull Rider's Homecoming

“Look, I’m sorry for being short with you when you came by the house. I didn’t know—”

“It’s all right.” The naturally husky notes of her voice strummed along his nerves in a pleasant sort of way.

“I was rude.”

“Understandable, given the circumstances.”

Annie didn’t reply. She shifted her weight and looked past him to where her girls were watering the mare, presenting him with her delicate profile. Trace rarely had a problem filling in gaps in conversation, but as she brought her gaze back to his, he found himself at a loss. She was a small thing, serious, yet sexy in a girl next door sort of way...and being near her stirred something deep inside of him. Something he didn’t particularly want stirred.

“I appreciate your understanding,” she said coolly.

“Not a problem.”

No problem at all, although he couldn’t help but wonder if being attracted to Grady Owen’s sister might introduce a complication or two into his life.

Chapter Two

Trace Delaney was tall for a bull rider. And since Annie was short, she had to look up at him. The guy had great cheekbones, a really nice mouth and, unlike her brother, no visible scars. Deep hazel eyes, more green than brown, studied her solemnly from beneath slightly frowning dark eyebrows, and she realized that she was staring. She pulled her gaze away and a few awkward beats of silence passed. Neither of them seemed able to come up with anything to say, but she refused to shift uncomfortably.

“By the way,” she said, breaking the silence. “I’m Annie Owen. Those are my daughters. Kristen in red and Katie in blue.”

“Cute kids.” At least he didn’t say they took after her, as many people did, because they didn’t. They looked like their blond-haired, green-eyed father who was long gone. Not that that bothered Annie anymore. She was grateful to be raising her girls alone.

“Thank you.” She dove into the reason she’d come. “Obviously there was a miscommunication between Grady and me, and I wanted to stop by to apologize for chasing you off my porch.”

Trace smiled and Annie fought to keep from catching her breath. Holy cow.

“He and I talked. It’s fine. Did everything turn out all right last night?”

“After a lot of mopping.”

“What about repairs? Do you have someone handling those?”

She looked at him in surprise. “I went to the hardware store for a hose and a new wrench.” Because she couldn’t find hers and had a feeling it had been involved in some project the twins had cooked up. “We’re on our way home now.”

“Ah.” Again the silence settled in and Annie was about to do them both a favor and call the girls so that they could leave, when Katie and Kristen headed back toward them from the trough, pulling the ever-patient mare behind them.

“She drank a lot,” Katie announced, still holding tightly to the reins.

“Warm morning,” Trace agreed. “And we went a long way.”

Bareback. Annie couldn’t help but wonder if his butt was sore. Hers would be. How long had it been since she’d ridden?

Katie tilted her head up. “Can I come and ride Daphne next weekend?”

“Katie!” Annie flashed Trace a quick glance of apology, catching the deer-in-headlights look that crossed his face. He might have been willing to check in with her, but it was blatantly obvious that he didn’t want his space invaded. Fine, because she didn’t want to invade it. Not when he made her feel so crazy aware of him. Like riding, when was the last time that had happened to her?

“We’ll wait until Lex comes home to ride,” Annie said in her mom voice.

Katie drew in a breath, as if to argue, but Annie cocked an eyebrow and she let out the breath in a whoosh. “All right,” she mumbled. She and Kristen turned as one and headed for the car.

“Sorry about that,” Annie said.

Trace gave her a tight smile in return. “It probably would be best if they waited for Lex.”

Annie gave a nod, even though a small, contrary part of her wanted to say, Hey, it isn’t like you have to be around while they ride.

“Agreed.” The car door opened and closed behind her. “I need to go. Lots of chores ahead of me. Give a shout if you need anything.”

He wouldn’t. She knew that as certainly as she knew that she was going to spend the drive home explaining why the twins had to wait for Lex to get home before riding the horses they’d ridden regularly for the past several months.

Because that was the way it was. End of story.

* * *

WELL, THAT HAD been awkward.

He shook his head as Annie turned her car onto the county road, and then led the mare toward the pasture. Faking small talk was usually easy, but facing off with Annie had triggered the discomfort he’d once felt around people he didn’t know. A discomfort he’d worked a long time to overcome.

He’d grown up shy and his mom had been something of a recluse until she passed away just after he’d turned fourteen. They’d moved from apartment to apartment, trailer house to trailer house, looking for ever-lower rent as the medical bills stacked up. They’d stayed in the Reno-Carson City area, but he’d changed schools every year or two and found it was easier to simply keep to himself. That way people didn’t ask questions, expect to be invited over. Things like that.

When cancer had finally claimed his mom, he’d been sent to live with his father, who hadn’t wanted him in the first place. The last thing he’d wanted was the son who was a reminder of his brief relationship with a Reno cocktail waitress. He’d given Trace food and shelter, but his discomfort with the situation had been palpable, and Trace had found himself feeling even more alone than he had when he’d been in Reno. At least there he’d had his mom and a few acquaintances. That first summer in Oregon, he’d had no one—or at least he hadn’t until Ernest McClure had found him exploring on his property and had insisted that he come home and eat lunch with him and his wife, Josie, so that they could get to know “the new neighbor.”

Trace had gone, more because he’d been caught trespassing than because he wanted to get to know anyone. Going with Ernest, however, had been the best accidental move of his life. In Ernest and Josie, he’d found pseudograndparents. Mentors. People who believed in his basic good—something he’d kind of wondered about.

Thanks to their gentle influence—which later he discovered was more like velvet-covered steel—Trace started actively working to make something of himself, his life. He’d joined the school rodeo team, and made an effort to connect with other kids. It’d been painful at first, but as he made more friends, he gained confidence, and by the time he’d graduated, he’d learned to play the social game well. He may never have connected with his dad, but he’d done all right. And now he could effect easy conversation with the best of them...except with Annie Owen.

He had no idea what was going on there.

Trace gave a small snort as he closed the tack-room door and pushed the past out of his head. He didn’t need to worry about Annie or connecting because he probably wasn’t going to see her again. The future was his biggest concern.

The future and the long day on the ranch that stretched out before him.

* * *

EVEN THOUGH ANNIE had worked at Annie Get Your Gun for over a year, she still felt like smiling when she walked through the door to start her day. It was a total accident that she shared a name with the store, but she liked being partnered up with Annie Oakley, who was the true namesake.

There was something about the upscale yet funky Western boutique housed on the ground floor of a historic brick building that was both welcoming and inspiring. If she could afford it, she would happily decorate her entire house with the items sold at the boutique, but that wouldn’t be happening anytime in the near future. Her girls were growing like weeds and it seemed like she was spending her extra cash on new shoes or coats every couple of months. But a person needed a little pick-me-up every now and again, so she settled for buying the occasional small piece of bric-a-brac on payday and being thankful that she had a full-time job with benefits.

In fact, it still amazed her that Danielle had offered her the job in the first place, since she and Grady had once been engaged and it hadn’t ended well. But Danielle was now married to a great guy, and Grady was engaged to Lex, a partner in the business. A convoluted state of affairs, but the end product was that Danielle and Grady were both blissfully happy and Annie had a job she loved.

“You’re here early,” Danielle said as she walked into the back room carrying a vase of wilted roses.

“The girls managed to get ready for school on time. I’ve worked up an incentive plan.”

“Clever mom.” Danielle gave her kind of a goofy smile.

“What?”

She bit her lip then blurted, “I’m pregnant! I’m going to be a mom, too!”

Annie gasped then reached out to hug Danielle, who was almost bouncing up and down with excitement. “When?”

“January.”

“And no morning sickness?” Danielle shook her head. “Lucky you,” Annie murmured. “I think I was sick for five months.”

“Have I mentioned that I’m excited?” Danielle said. “I’ve been looking at Western baby stuff. A lot of it. You may have to rein me in so the store doesn’t become Annie Get Your Baby Gear.”

Annie laughed. “I’ll do my best, but baby gear mania is like a sickness. Everything is so cute.”

“I know.” Danielle opened the cooler and took out the bouquet of flowers stored inside and replaced the roses in the vase. She jerked her head toward the boutique. “I have more news.”

Annie followed, waiting until Danielle had placed the flowers on the end of the tall counter where they transacted business. She nodded at the locked door on the west side of the room. “I negotiated with Great Granny and because they’re having trouble renting that little space after the Book Nook closed, she’s letting me have it for a song. I’m making a quilt room.” She walked over to the door and turned the old-fashioned key resting in the lock then pulled it open. The Book Nook had been vacant for almost as long as Annie had worked for the store, and the room was both musty and dusty.

Danielle stood for a moment, studying the space. “Definitely some work ahead of us.” She glanced over at Annie. “If there is an us. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind putting in some overtime and helping me clean and paint this space. The cleaning we can do when we have downtime during the day, but the painting—I don’t want fumes, so I figured that could be done during the evening. Thus, the overtime.”

“I’d just do it,” Annie said.

“I don’t want you—”

“You can buy me a drink sometime. After...” She patted her abdomen.

“If you’re sure,” Danielle said, stepping farther into the room.

“Totally sure.” Annie crossed over to the windows, which had brown paper covering them. “It’ll be nice to get this paper down.”

“It was never meant to be up for so long,” Danielle agreed. “And it’ll be nice not being next to a vacant space.” She turned in a circle. “I’m going to hang the best quilts, put racks over there and see if I can score some dressers to display smaller items.”

“I’ve been trying to make smaller items,” Annie said. “I don’t seem to have the knack.” But she wished she did. Lex made metal jewelry for the store, and Kelly, who’d worked there before Annie, still brought in her pottery pieces. Annie had nothing to contribute.

“You know, I’m fine with you simply being a great associate.”

Annie gave a soft snort. “I want a talent like everyone else.”

“Maybe you’re really good with interior paint,” Danielle said with a wry smile.

“I do sling a mean brush.” She did. The house she’d grown up in had been grim when she’d moved back home after Wes had left her. She and Grady had rented it out while she’d been in college and the renters hadn’t been all that careful with the place. It’d taken Annie a long time to brighten the house with paint and small touches, making headway whenever her budget allowed.

“I was thinking Friday evening to paint? You can bring the girls.”

Paint and her twins were usually an explosive combination. Annie lifted an eyebrow, thinking that Danielle had a learning curve ahead of her. “That sounds great and since its Friday, I think that would be a good night for the twins to spend the night with friends.”

* * *

THE DAYS PASSED SLOWLY. Trace saddled up every day, exercising each mare in turn and even giving the cranky old gelding, Snuff, a go. After the daily ride, he worked out as best he could, read, watched videos and wished that Lex had a less meticulously cared for ranch. A guy named Hennessey had a practice pen nearby and Trace thought he might check it out, but knowing himself as he did, he didn’t want to be tempted to hurry things along. The longer he healed, the better his chances of having a winning season the next year—and the better his chances of getting the best of Brick and funding that season. Or at least part of it.

The problem, as he saw it, was that the only way to be a successful bull rider was to live and breathe the sport. Unfortunately, that made downtime difficult. Trace had nothing to fill the hours once he’d gone through all his exercises and rehab, mental and physical, and fed the animals. The one positive to the ranch was that for the first time in forever, he had a real kitchen to work in—one where his stepmother wouldn’t instantly kick him out, anyway—and within a matter of days his simple meals became more elaborate.

Being at the stove reminded him of being with his mom. As she’d grown more ill, he’d taken over the cooking, following her instructions as she sat at the table and watched, sometimes with her head resting on her arms. She hadn’t had much of an appetite by that point, but she’d taught him to make hearty food that would feed a growing kid. She’d also taught him how to stretch ingredients, shop sales, use coupons and maintain a household budget.

Trace’s mouth tightened as he put a cast-iron pan on to heat. He missed his mom. Sixteen years and the ache was still there. He’d lost his father not that long ago, but mostly he felt resentment when he thought of his dad. It wouldn’t have killed the guy to open up a little—at least tell him he had a serious heart problem. But no. He didn’t find that out until the heart problem had put his dad in the ground.

Lex had a nicely stocked kitchen and Trace started a list of the things he needed to replace as he used them. She also had a decent collection of cookbooks, and it was while he was thumbing through one, looking for inspiration, that he stumbled upon the Gavin chamber of commerce pamphlet and discovered that he knew a local bar owner. Gus Hawkins was also from northern Nevada, and he and Trace had competed in a lot of the same rodeos in high school and college.

It would be great to see someone he knew. Someone he didn’t have to fake small talk with. For all of the time he’d spent alone in his life, alone on this ranch felt different. It had to be because he wasn’t traveling and he wasn’t riding bulls. His life had changed radically after the surgery and his brain was still trying to figure out how to cope with these new limitations.

* * *

TRACE DID HIS grocery shopping Friday evening, just before the store closed for the night, then parked outside the Shamrock. The place was beginning to get crowded, but there were still a few empty tables around the periphery of the room. Trace bypassed the tables and headed to the bar, which was manned by an older guy who looked at him over his glasses as he approached.

“Hey.” Trace put his hands on the edge of the bar and looked at what was on tap. He ordered then asked if Gus was around.

The old guy’s glasses slipped a little lower as his chin dropped. “It’s his day off.”

“I rodeoed with Gus during high school.”

“You did, now?” Trace started to pull out his wallet but the bartender waved his hand. “First one’s on me.”

Trace smiled. “Thanks. I guess I’ll stop by on a day that’s not Friday.”

“Or Thursday. His other day off. By the way, I’m Thad. Gus’s uncle.”

“Trace Delaney.”

“You ride bulls.”

“I do.” He wasn’t a big name, but it wasn’t unusual for people who followed bull riding to know who he was.

“Are you done with the circuit?” Thad pushed a foaming draft across the bar.

Trace raised his glass. “Bad shoulder. I should be good to go in a matter of weeks.” Months, he reminded himself. No pushing this recovery as he’d always done in the past.

“It’s got to be rough on the paycheck being out for so long.”

“Doesn’t help,” Trace agreed with a “that’s life” smile.

A group of six or seven youngish guys dressed in matching baseball shirts came in through the back door, and Trace stepped back as they crowded up to the bar. “I’ll tell Gus I saw you,” Thad called as he backed away.

“Thanks.” The place was filling up, but Trace found a quiet table near the empty pool tables, where he sat and slowly sipped his beer, watching the people around him. He was in no hurry to get back to the lonely farm and was therefore in no hurry to finish his beer. It was only 7:30 p.m., so a long night stretched before him.

Another rowdy group of kids dressed as cowboys came into the bar and soon commandeered the pool tables. Trace watched the dynamics in the group, pegged the cocky guy with the black hat as the leader and wondered if he’d looked that stupid after having one too many. A girl in tight silver pants draped herself around Black Hat, who practically shook her off. Silver Pants pouted a little as Black Hat took his pool shot then gave a smirk when the ball hit the edge of the pocket and rolled to the center of the table.

“I told you to rub me for luck,” she said.

And Trace had had about enough people-watching.

He went back to the now almost deserted bar to drop off his glass, and he and Thad started talking again. Thad seemed fine to talk despite being busy at the bar, so Trace lingered a bit before heading out the back door leading to the parking lot. He’d barely stepped outside when he heard a woman cry out and then the sound of a scuffle. He rounded the first row of vehicles in the lot and saw Black Hat and Silver Pants standing next to a tricked-out truck.

“Leave me alone,” the girl yelled. Black Hat didn’t move, so she started slapping at him, until he put his hands up and pushed her back into the truck. Her head struck the mirror, and even though she didn’t appear to be hurt, Trace started toward them. If it had been a couple of evenly matched guys, it would have been different, but this wasn’t an even match.

“Mind your own business,” the guy growled, barely sparing Trace a glance as he faced off with the girl who was now spitting curses at him while rubbing her head with one hand.

Trace stepped in between them. “She asked you to leave her alone.”

“You going to get involved, cowboy?” the guy asked in a deadly voice.

Trace took another step forward, hoping the woman had the good sense to take off while she could. “I don’t want to get involved, but if she wants to go—” Something hit him hard on his temple, knocking him sideways. His teeth clacked together and he tasted blood, but he didn’t go down.

“You get away from us,” Silver Pants shrieked. When Trace turned toward her, the guy swung at him. Trace managed to pull back enough to miss the brunt of it, but the guy swung again, hitting him square in the bad shoulder as he attempted to dodge the blow, and the fight was on. Trace got a couple punches in with his right hand before the guy grabbed his shirt and swung him around. He lost his balance and went down, pulling Black Hat with him.

They rolled in the gravel, hitting one another, the girl shrieking and smacking at them with her purse—the same purse she’d used to coldcock him. Just when Trace got a lucky shot to the jaw, he heard the sound of tires on gravel, and then the reds and blues lit the ground nearby. A pair of rough hands pulled him away from Black Hat and the next thing he knew, his hands were cuffed behind his back, the pain in his shoulder so raw and deep that he could barely catch his breath, much less give his name when the cop demanded it.

“He started it,” the girl sobbed. “He did. We were out here talking and he just attacked us!”

Trace let his cheek drop to the gravel. He was so thoroughly hosed.

Chapter Three

“We need to give a statement,” Danielle said as the deputies finished handcuffing the two men who’d been fighting in the parking lot behind the store, not far from Annie’s car.

“Not until they get Shelly under control,” Annie muttered back, even though she agreed wholeheartedly. They’d come around the corner just in time to see Shelly Hensley wallop the guy who’d tried to intercede on her behalf. Typical Shelly move. As the deputy turned her around to cuff her she loudly cursed him out.

“I think it’s safe now,” Danielle said.

Annie nodded and they started across the lot. The deputy looked over his shoulder at them as they approached, and she saw that it was Cullen McCoy, whom she’d gone to school with. “We saw the whole thing,” Annie called as she and Danielle stopped a safe distance away.

Shelly glowered at her in a way that made Annie glad they’d waited until the cuffs were on. “They did not.”

Cullen gave his head a tired shake, giving Annie the impression that it wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with Shelly. Another cruiser pulled into the lot and after a brief conference with the female deputy who stepped out of the car, Cullen jerked his head toward the street. “I’ll talk to you one at a time. You first.” He pointed at Danielle, who followed him a few yards away.

Annie stayed put, shifting her weight and thinking that this was the most excitement she’d had since the girls let the snake loose in the house. The female deputy put her hand under the still-handcuffed rescuer’s arm and when she helped him to his feet, a sound of pain escaped his lips.

Annie’s mouth fell open, then she snapped it shut again. The guy who’d gotten creamed trying to help Shelly was Trace Delaney.

* * *

TRACE GLANCED PAST the female deputy to see who else was witness to his humiliation then swallowed a groan. A leggy blonde woman and...Annie Owen.

Excellent.

Shaking his head, he looked down at his boots, tightening his jaw against the pain shooting through his shoulder. To his left the woman he’d tried to help was spewing venom, and to his right the deputy who’d cuffed him was talking to the blonde. He had no idea where Black Hat was, but his hat still lay in the gravel close to where they’d fought.

He sensed Annie moving, cast another quick look and saw that it was her turn with the deputy. When she’d finished, the deputy came toward him.

“I’m going to ask you to take a breathalyzer test,” he said after checking Trace’s identification.

Trace nodded. He was more than willing to take the test—not that he had much choice in the matter. They’d draw blood if he refused. He blew into the tube and a moment later the deputy unlocked the cuffs.

“Hey! What about Danny?” Silver Pants shrieked before the female deputy took her by the arm and hauled her a distance away.

“Do you know these two?”

“No.” And he knew better than to give more information than was asked for.

“What happened?”

“I was on my way to my truck and these two were dusting it up. The guy laid hands on the woman and I told him to stop.”

“Did you threaten either of them?”

“No. I just told him to leave her alone.”

“According to the witnesses,” the deputy said to Trace, “the female suspect struck you without provocation and then the male suspect—” he glanced down at his notes “—took a swing and from that point on you were acting in self-defense.”

“The guy in the black hat pushed her against the truck and she struck her head on the side mirror. She didn’t appear to be hurt, so I thought I’d distract him so she could leave.” His jaw tightened. “She chose not to go.”