Rancher In Her Bed

A vision of the ranch hand on the back of a bucking bronc flashed through his mind. Followed by memories of Rena’s fall. He hadn’t been there the day his fiancée had been thrown, but that had never stopped his brain from imagining it thousands of times.

His gut balled up in a cold knot.

“Where is she?” Clammy sweat popped out along his brow. “Where’s Frankie?”

He needed to talk her out of it. No, he needed to lay down the law and tell her she couldn’t compete. What in the hell was she thinking to tempt fate like that? Bronc riding was a dangerous sport for anyone—man or woman.

“You okay?” Reggie’s blond brows knit. Frowning, the wrangler reached for a bottled water resting on an empty bleacher off to one side. “Have a drink. You don’t look so good.”

Swiping a hand along his forehead, he tried to shut off the images flashing through his mind.

“I’m fine. Just—” He was already scouring the arena for any sign of the saucy brunette with killer legs. “Where’s Frankie?”

Reggie pointed outside the arena. “Last I saw her, she was heading outside to give herself a pep talk. Looked to me like she was walking in the direction of the Ferris wheel.”

Xander’s boots were already in motion.

Two (#u60cc0fec-e679-54c8-9c1e-3dd85b20ed13)

Frankie paced quick circles around a broken passenger cart tucked behind the Ferris wheel, out of the way of the kids and couples in line for their turn on the carnival attraction.

Nerves always set in before an event like this. She’d only done half a dozen rodeos, but she recognized the mixture of butterflies and doubt that came before the exhilaration of her moment in the arena. This part—the waiting—was far more of a challenge than the eight seconds she needed to last on the back of a bucking horse.

Rock music blared from the ride’s sound system, competing with a local country band playing nearby, the pings and whistles of various skills competitions along the carnival main strip, and the shouts of carnies urging on the guests to play longer. Spend more. Every now and then, an announcement over the loudspeaker reminded the fair attendees who needed to report to the arena next for their event in the rodeo. Barrel racers, calf ropers and wranglers of all sorts took their turn.

Pacing faster as she let herself get keyed up, Frankie knew tonight would be tough. There were only a handful of lady competitors in the saddle bronc event. But she’d seen the list and recognized the names of two top-notch riders from an all-women’s tour that had made its way around Texas the year before. She’d seen those ladies live and guessed she didn’t have much of a shot against them tonight.

Then again...who knew?

The broncs could surprise anyone. And Frankie had never walked away from a challenge. Her mother had told her more than once it was her worst failing.

Not that she was going to think about her adoptive mom. Or dad. Or the home she’d run from the moment she’d turned eighteen. She’d save those worries for another night, when she wasn’t about to risk her neck.

“Frankie.”

A man’s voice cut clean through her tumultuous thoughts. Her head snapped up to see Xander Currin striding toward her.

Purposefully.

A thrill shot through her at the sight of him in his dark jeans and a fitted black button-down. His Stetson was the same one he usually wore, but his boots were an upgrade from the ones he wore for work. His blue eyes zeroed in on her face, stirring more butterflies.

“Yes?” Puzzled that he would seek her out, she listened hard to hear over her galloping heartbeat.

He didn’t look pleased. He couldn’t possibly still be mad about her taking Carmen out the other day, could he?

“I just saw Reggie.” Her boss stopped a few feet away from her, closer than he’d ever stood before. “He told me you’re entering the saddle bronc event.”

“That’s right.” Relief seeped through the awareness of him. He wasn’t here to give her a hard time about riding Carmen. “There’s a ladies’ competition tonight.”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous rough stock events can be?” His voice was all sharp edges and accusation, just like the last time they’d spoken.

Defensiveness flared. How was it she could irritate this man just by existing?

“I work with horses and cattle every day, the same as you do. I suppose I know a thing or two about them.” She folded her arms, refusing to let him intimidate her here, off the Currin Ranch.

She’d worked too hard in life to be steamrollered by people who thought they knew what was best for her.

“That doesn’t mean you’re ready to ride a surly, pissed-off beast trained to buck.” His jaw clenched. “Do you know how hard riders prepare for this event?”

A burst of applause broke out at a nearby midway game while she reeled from Xander’s sexist audacity.

“Did you give Reggie the same speech you’re giving me?” She felt a flash of impatience that bordered on anger. “Or Wyatt, the greenest of your employees entering a competition tonight?”

Xander’s lips flattened into a thin line. “No. But—”

“Then don’t you think you’re being a chauvinist to call me out for doing an event that I have spent time preparing for and that I’m actually good at?”

His expression shifted slightly, some of the tension around his eyes easing a fraction. He seemed to force in a deep breath before responding.

“You have a reputation as a very hard worker around the ranch, but if you’ve been training for this, it’s the first I’ve heard,” he acknowledged, dialing back the confrontational tone.

And taking a bit of the wind from her sails along with it.

“Well, I don’t have much spare time to train given my schedule.” Some days she ached so much from the physical grind of the labor she did, she could barely force her arms to shovel food in her mouth before showering and heading to bed. “I take as many hours as I can to make ends meet.”

She lifted her chin, daring him to find fault in that. There was no shame in hard work.

The country band playing nearby launched into a crowd-pleasing favorite, eliciting whistles and shouts from the dancers on the other side of the Ferris wheel. Neon lights blinked in varying shades as the spokes of the ride spun past them.

“I don’t want you in that arena tonight,” Xander informed her, his eyes utterly serious.

She reminded herself she worked for him. That she didn’t want to land on the wrong side of the powerful Currin family. But damn it, who did he think he was to call the shots for her tonight?

“That’s too bad,” she found herself saying anyhow, “because I’m not on the clock now, which means you can’t order me around.”

Xander glanced away from her and then back again. More gently, he asked, “Can you tell me why it’s so important to you to enter an event so fundamentally dangerous?”

Something in his voice compelled her. So she decided to be honest.

“I’m working hard all the time trying to earn enough money to put myself through veterinary school, and I don’t get many breaks.” She forced herself to unclasp her folded arms. To stand up straighter and own her thoughts and feelings. “And when I heard about the Texas Cattleman’s Club Flood Relief Gala, I thought that was the kind of break I’d love—something fun and different that would let me have a glimpse of the life I’m working toward. A chance to see the reward with my own eyes to keep me on the path. You know?”

Xander cocked his head like he didn’t quite understand.

“You want to go to the Flood Relief Gala,” he said slowly.

“I do. It’s healthy to give yourself some tangible rewards in the process of working toward a big goal,” she explained, sharing an insight gleaned from a college counselor who’d helped her figure out how to start on a path toward achieving her big dreams. “And the prize money tonight will give me enough to afford a ticket to the gala.”

The loudspeaker blared a call for the competitors in her event. Nerves fluttered in her stomach.