One Rodeo Season

Lacy Evans might not realize it, but he’d given her his word and he intended to keep it. This wasn’t about getting her into the sack.

Of course, that didn’t exactly explain what it was about.

That wasn’t entirely true, either. It was about that spark she had. When she tore into him, her body language was completely different than what it had been when she’d been confronted by Slim or when Ian had come around the corner and seen her pinned against the trailer by Jerome.

She’d been physically shaking, pale and panicked—and then Jerome had touched her. And that had been all Ian had seen before the world narrowed to Jerome. That asshole would not touch Lacy like that. Not while Ian was breathing.

“Why are you alone?” he asked as the first bull emerged from the trailer. “This isn’t a one-man job.”

“You really don’t think I can do this, do you?” she snapped before adding, “Get up, Wreck.”

“I’m not questioning your skills. I’m saying you have three bulls and you’re by yourself. You were by yourself last week, too. You should have a traveling partner.”

“I—” Oh, hell—he heard her voice catch. She dropped her head and put her hands on her hips. “I had a partner. He died.”

“I’m sorry.” Ian had the urge to put his arm around her shoulder and hold her. He didn’t do it, of course—he wasn’t particularly in the mood to have his nuts crushed up into his stomach. But the urge alone was troubling. It was obvious that she’d loved the guy. Ian could only hope he’d treated her well.

“All I’m saying,” he went on, pointedly not looking at her, “is that I’m only ever in the arena with one bull at a time and I’ve got a partner. And here you’re traveling with three bulls. Don’t you have any hired hands or something?”

“I don’t have to defend myself to you.”

There, that was better. Her moment of weakness had been just that—a moment. Already she was back to her fighting self. “Lacy.”

He had things he wanted to say after her name, but then she looked up at him and whatever speech he’d been about to make about safety died on his tongue. Her eyes were wide-open, a pale brown color with a darker brown ring around the outside.

He wanted to see what she looked like without that hat crammed down on her head. He wanted to tangle his fingers in her hair and tilt her head up and—

She looked away first, her cheeks turning a sweet pink. “Maybe if Rattler and Wreckerator have a good season,” she said, her voice pinched, “I can afford to hire someone. But right now, I can’t. There. Are you happy now?”

“I don’t know why you’d think I’d be happy about that,” he said, taking a step away from her. “Sounds like it’s been a rough road for a while.”

This observation was met with the kind of silence that made stone walls look cushy. They got the third bull out.

“That one’s Rattler, right?” he said into the silence, pointing at the brown bull.

“You should remember him,” she said. It ought to have come out snippy, but her voice was quiet—thoughtful, even. “He checked out, by the way.”

“How much was the vet call?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Now it was his turn to gape at her. “Seriously, Evans?” She flinched when he used her last name. “You’re busy convincing yourself that me helping you unload the bulls doesn’t mean you ‘owe’ me anything, but you won’t let me cover the cost of the vet visit—which, I might add, I already promised to pay for? This isn’t charity and I’m not taking pity on you. I might have injured your animal. Let me pay for the damn vet.”

She turned toward him, her brow furrowed in what looked like confusion. Well, she could just be confused. He was completely turned around by a hard woman with a soft name and several chips on both shoulders.

“You helped unload the bulls. We’re even,” she said, her hand slicing through the air as if that was that.

It wasn’t. “If this is you being not stubborn, I’d hate to see what you’d do if you really dug your heels in. I’m paying for the vet visit one way or the other. Either you tell me how much it cost or...”

She leaned toward him. It wasn’t a big movement—she might not even have been aware she’d done it. But he noticed. Her big brown eyes were locked on his and her body was angled toward his and her lips were parted. When she tilted her head to one side, as if she wanted to be kissed, his self-control almost snapped.

The only thing that saved him from making a first-class fool of himself was Jack’s voice echoing in his mind—a good bullfighter waited. A bad one rushed in.

Ian would not rush this. Not her.

So, despite the signals her body was sending, he did not pull her into his arms and he did not take the kiss she appeared to be offering.

“Or what?”

But by God, it would be easier to not kiss her if she didn’t sound so soft and sweet. “Or I’ll work it off. I’ll help you load and unload the bulls when we’re at the same rodeos, make sure the assholes don’t treat you like crap.” He couldn’t help it, not when her eyes widened even more. He leaned forward, his voice dropping down a notch. “Either way, you’ll get it out of me.”

Then he waited. Either she’d punch him or kiss him or she’d walk off.

She didn’t do any of those. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, that voice of hers so soft without all the hard edges she usually used. “I’m nothing to you. You don’t even know me.”

“You’re not nothing. Not to me.” She sucked in a quick gasp of air. “And rodeo is a family. I was raised to look after my own.”

But even as he said the words, he could feel the ink over his heart start to burn, like he was having it carved into his skin all over again.

So it was a lie that he always looked out for his own. No one knew about Eliot, not even Ian’s cousin June. All she knew was that he’d been seeing two girls at the same time before he went off to college. Leasha had left the rez to have the baby and hadn’t told anyone she’d given the boy up.

Not even Ian. Not until the papers had arrived.

And Ian had— Well, he’d signed them.

He hadn’t taken care of his own son.

Ian rubbed the tattoo on his chest until the pain edged back again.

“A...family,” she said, turning back to the bulls. She sounded very faraway.

“We’re not all like Salzberg or Slim,” Ian felt obligated to point out. “Some of us are decent human beings. My partner, Jack, is a good guy. There’s the Preacher, Randy—heck, even Garth is okay, if you get him before he’s had more than three beers.”

“You spend a lot of time with the riders?”

He shrugged. “I have connections.” She shot him a sideways look. “There’s always going to be the jerks who think you shouldn’t be here. Let’s just say I enjoy putting jerks in their proper places.”

As he’d done at that first rodeo he’d gone to with his cousin June. She’d been climbing the ranks of professional riders, but she’d had a problem with some of the riders. Ian had been more than happy to stand up for his cousin.

Before that rodeo, Ian had been an ex-football player without a team.

But after that rodeo? He was a bullfighter.

“No strings?” Lacy asked, a hint of worry at the edge of her eyes. She didn’t trust him. Not yet, a quiet voice whispered in his ear.

“No strings,” he agreed. Then he stuck out his hand. “Friends?”

She regarded him for a long second. Then she slipped her small hand into his, gave him a brief squeeze, and yanked her hand back. “Don’t get carried away,” she told him.