The Bull Rider's Homecoming

Thanks, Annie. Trace’s mouth tightened, but there was no good to be had from arguing with the law, so he started for his truck.

“My car is over here,” Annie called.

“Her car is over there,” the deputy echoed. Trace reversed course and by the time he got to Annie, she’d finished saying a few words to her friend and pulled the keys out of her pocket.

“It won’t kill you to accept a ride home,” she murmured. “I’ll help you get your truck in the morning.”

And the only thing that kept him from arguing was the fact that, yeah, he was starting to feel a little light-headed. He knew that feeling. Knew it well, actually. It happened when he got clocked too hard in the arena. It’d pass, but maybe he should be grateful instead of all surly. So after he scrunched himself into the front seat of Annie’s car, he said, “Thank you.”

She snorted a little and started the engine. “Right.”

“No. Really.”

She shot him a look then shook her head.

“What?”

He saw a corner of her mouth tighten. “No wonder Grady asked me to keep an eye on you. You’re here less than a week and you’ve already tangled with Shelly Hensley.”

“What a minute.” Maybe he’d been clocked harder than he thought. “Why would you need to keep an eye on me? Grady asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“Whatever.” She slowed to a stop at an intersection then continued on out of town.

Trace fell silent, irritated, his shoulder throbbing. They rode for several miles and it wasn’t until they got close to his place that Annie said, “Hey,” in a somewhat grudging voice.

He glanced at her, frowning.

“He didn’t tell me to keep an eye on you. He said you might need a contact in the community. You did. It all worked out. And I know that he asked you to keep an eye on me. He told me.”

Trace nodded instead of answering.

Annie pulled into his driveway and then stopped next to the front walk. “Is everything really okay?”

“I just got beat up by a douche bag. What do you think?”

Her expression softened an iota. “If you need anything, will you call?”

“Like what, Annie?” It was the first time he’d said her name out loud and it sounded oddly intimate. She seemed to think so, too, because those blue eyes widened then narrowed.

“I don’t know what your needs are,” she said calmly.

He did and he was beginning to feel a need directed toward her, despite the humiliation of the evening. He had to get out of there. He reached for the door handle. “I’ll figure out a way to get my truck.”

“Or I could pick you up on my way to work at eight.”

She was challenging him. Trace rarely if ever backed down from a challenge. “Thanks.”

“Common sense wins. Cool.” She gave her slim shoulders a shrug and despite the pain beating through him, and the very real concern that he’d set his rehab back by a week or two, Trace found himself wanting to smile.

* * *

ANNIE TOLD HERSELF—firmly—that there was no need for her to feel self-conscious about picking up Trace Delaney and giving him a ride to his truck, which was parked where she parked every day. It was the natural thing to do. The neighborly thing to do.

They were kind of neighbors...several-miles-apart neighbors, but they had the same zip code.

She pulled her car up to the gate at the end of Trace’s walkway. The dogs shot out from behind the house, leaping up and down, their heads appearing and disappearing from behind the fence, and a few seconds later Trace came out of the house, looking dark and withdrawn.

He held his shoulder stiffly and his arm wasn’t in his jacket sleeve, which concerned her, but having grown up a bull rider’s sister, she didn’t say a word about it and pretended not to notice the grimace of pain that flashed across his face as he got into her car.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said politely as he folded himself down into the seat. Apparently he felt self-conscious about being ferried back to his truck. Men.

“Not a problem.”

Once Trace was in the car and the door was shut, Annie couldn’t decide if the car was too small or if he was too big. Only he wasn’t big. He was tall and lean. Wiry, as bull riders tended to be. But the car felt different with him in it.

And whereas he’d smelled like a guy who’d been fighting in the parking lot the night before—which Annie had been surprised to find she didn’t mind one bit—today he smelled of soap and man. She didn’t mind that, either.

She bit her lip as she stopped at the end of the driveway. Since Trace seemed to prefer silence, she decided to honor his wishes and not make small talk. She did enough of that in the line of duty and it really wasn’t that bad driving in silence.

He was the one who finally spoke as they hit the Gavin city limits. “Do you want to bring your girls to ride sometime?”

She sent him a frowning look, wondering where that had come from. “They can wait until Lex comes home.”

“Yeah. Well, I’ve never spent time around kids, so I kind of panicked when they asked, but after you left I realized that I really had nothing to do with the matter. So, you’re welcome to come...if you still care to.”

There was something in his voice that had her glancing away from the road to him. “You’re hurting and the last things you probably need are a couple of rowdy—”

“Annie.” She shot another look across the small space. “I’m not the kind of guy who usually fights in parking lots.”

Annie’s eyebrows shot up as she realized what his concern was. “I wasn’t worried about that.” She let out a huff of breath. “Besides, I saw what happened. Shelly attacked you from behind when you were trying to help her. And you know what?” Another quick look his way. “You could have taken that douche bag despite your shoulder. He was tiring, you know.”

She pulled into the lot and parked in her usual spot, fifty yards away from where his black truck stood close to the Shamrock. When she turned to take her purse from the backseat, she saw that he was studying her with a bemused look.

“I grew up with bull riders. You think I haven’t seen a scrap or two in my day?”

She pushed the door open and got out. Trace did the same and she realized that perhaps she’d accidentally discovered the secret to feeling more comfortable around a guy who was putting her totally on edge. Treat him like her brother.

He smiled at her then over the top of the car—a slow smile that made Annie’s nerves start to thrum.

Uh...no...the brother thing wasn’t going to work.

It had been a nice idea, but she was going to have to come up with something else. She managed a look of concern.

“Are you sure about this? You won’t feel invaded?” Because she thought he would, and pointing that out might be a great way to sidestep this rather generous offer.

“It’s not my place. If the girls want to ride, they’re welcome. I’ll probably stay in the house, out of the way.”

Annie lifted her eyebrows. “More likely out of harm’s way.”