The Bull Rider's Homecoming

“Can I please have Daphne’s reins?” one of the girls asked. Trace looked at Grady’s sister. She gave a small nod and he handed the reins over.

“We’ll get her a drink,” the other twin announced.

Trace watched them lead the mare toward the trough then turned back to find Annie regarding him. Yesterday, with wet hair slicked back from her forehead, she’d been all serious blue eyes and unsmiling lips. Today the long brown hair spilling in waves around her shoulders softened the angles of her heart-shaped face and accentuated the fullness of her mouth, the soft blue of her eyes—but her expression was just as serious as it had been while dealing with a flood and a stranger at the door. Somehow those full lips of hers didn’t look right pressed into a flat line.

“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 (#ulink_1a59ea73-c0f8-515b-8e28-00d9ab0711c9)

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.