Her Rodeo Hero (Cowboys in Uniform) Page 3
Laney couldn’t hide her excitement. “I stumbled on it while he was working with you. He has, like, all kinds of pictures and stuff on it. Did you know he’s a regular at the National Finals Rodeo? And that he’s a saddle bronc rider, too? He took over the family business when he left the military. He was twenty-six when he left the Army to help his dad, and four years later it’s more of a success than ever.”
Saddle broncs? That explained the cowboy swagger. And, yes, she’d known he was something of a big deal in the rodeo world—Wes had made that perfectly clear—but for some reason she’d been under the impression he’d done the rodeo thing for his whole life. Military? She’d had no idea.
“Next time he comes out here I’m, like, totally going to get his autograph.” The teen continued to peer down at her screen. “He has printable fan cards. I’ll bring some out here for you and me.”
If he ever came back out again. To be honest, she didn’t have much hope of that, and the admission caused the sick feeling to return. It was the same sickness she’d felt when he’d asked her to run alongside her horse.
“Come on. You can help me put Playboy away.”
Laney jumped to the task so quickly it brought a smile to Natalie’s face. She reminded her of Kate, one of the grooms she’d had at Uptown Farms, back when she could afford to pay someone to help her. Rather than fill her with bitterness, though, the memory served to firm her resolve. She wouldn’t let Colt quit on her. She would overcome her physical ailments. She had to.
It only took a couple of phone calls to find out where Colt lived, although her friend Jillian cautioned against dropping in on him. Natalie ignored her friend and two days later set off on a field trip of sorts. It dawned a perfect day for a drive. Blue sky—the kind of blue that only happened after a recent rain—so crystalline and vivid it seemed Photoshop had lent God a hand.
She pointed the truck toward a section of town where she’d always wanted to live, only she couldn’t, not even back when she could afford pretty much anything she wanted. Situated at the base of the mountains that separated the town of Via Del Caballo from the ocean, the land along the bowl-shaped valley had been owned for generations by ranchers. Parcels rarely became available in the low-lying foothills covered year-round by grass and majestic valley oaks whose branches brushed the ground. It took a half-hour to get out there, and as she approached she could see the Santa Ynez Mountains looming in the distance, as barren and brown as the valley was soft and green below.
There were so few driveways out to the east that it was easy to spot Colt’s, but even if she’d been in doubt as to whether or not she had the correct address, the sign above the entrance would have made it clear. An iron oval bearing the words Reynolds’s Ranch were suspended between two telephone poles, and below it stood a pair of ornate black gates, each with an R cut into it.
Jillian hadn’t warned her about this. Should she climb over? But she had no idea how far the ranch was from the front gate and all she could see from her vantage point were spotted pasture and old barbed-wire fencing.
She pulled out her phone and texted Jillian.
You don’t happen to know the pass code, do you?
What pass code?
To the electronic gate.
What gate?
I’m at Colt’s ranch, sitting outside the front entrance.
If her phone had been a cricket it would have been chirping into the silence. Clearly, either Jillian didn’t approve, or she didn’t know what to say. Natalie didn’t wait for a response.
“To heck with it.”
She hadn’t driven all the way out to Timbuktu, or spent money she could barely afford on fuel, just to turn around and go home. She pulled farther forward, but she hadn’t angled her truck properly. Her power steering had gone out recently, which meant getting her vehicle any closer to the intercom would be like wrangling a hippopotamus next to a mailbox. She opened the truck’s door, the hinges creaking in protest, and stepped out on the asphalt. She tried the obvious first, pressing zero on the keypad, and was surprised at the almost immediate “Hello.”
“Colt?”
Silence. She didn’t think he could possibly recognize her voice and so she said, “It’s me, Natalie.”
“I know who it is.”
He knew? How? Was there a camera, too? She glanced at the sign hanging overhead and smiled, just in case. “Can I come in?”
She felt like an idiot. Maybe she should have listened to Jillian. Maybe she should have called ahead first, made an appointment.
She pressed the button again and spoke into the intercom. “Hello?”
The gates started to open, a beeping sound emerging from somewhere. Natalie was impressed by the high-tech-ness of it all.
Well, all righty then.
She went to shove a hank of hair out of her face, only to realize—yet again—that she had none, so settled instead for running her fingers through the short strands. At least he hadn’t told her to leave. She was about to get back in her truck when she heard, “Veer right at the Y.”
She didn’t waste any time, gunning it so that her tires chirped on the blacktop, her struts and springs popping and moaning when the asphalt ended beyond the gate and turned into gravel. A glance in her rearview mirror revealed the gates already closing, which made her wonder if there were pressure plates. Somehow she hadn’t figured Colt to be a big fan of new fangled devices. Clearly she’d been wrong.
The road led toward some low-lying hills. Grass and trees were the only things she could see as she got closer, her truck leaving a rooster tail of dust behind her. But like theater curtains, the hills seemed to part. Up ahead the road split into a Y, the branch on her right ending at a place she couldn’t see. The road to her left, well, she couldn’t see where that went, either, at least not at first. Soon buildings came into view. Big house at the end of the road with a massive oak tree in the front yard, barn to the right. Huge rose bushes lined the front, the kind that had been there forever, the home seeming to have been randomly plopped down in the middle of nowhere. Prairie grass stretched as far as the eye could see.
She’d taken her foot off the accelerator, slowing down so she could observe. Trucks and trailers were parked in front.
Crud.
He had company. Oh, well, she thought. He wouldn’t have buzzed her through if he hadn’t wanted her to intrude.
She turned her attention to her surroundings. The two-story homestead seemed old, but she would bet at one point it’d been considered a mansion in these parts. It was painted white, and was perfectly square but for a small portion that jutted out on the right side in a hexagonal shape. There were windows all around it and the cutest little gingerbread roofline. Along the lower left side of the home sat an old-fashioned porch, the kind with blooming potted plants hanging between fancy scalloped braces. It wrapped around the side and front edges of the home.
Colt had parked his trailer next to the porch, which seemed dumb considering it probably blocked his view of the rolling foothills and nearby mountains. Natalie’s gaze moved to the barn to the right. Nothing fancy, just what appeared to be an old hayloft converted into a horse stable—she glimpsed stalls inside. By far the newest addition had to be the arena off behind the barn. State of the art by the looks of it, with a matching round pen outside. Both training areas had sand footing and high wooden rails that had been left natural in color so that they matched the big barn.
When she pulled up next to one of the four trucks parked out front she couldn’t help but admire their shiny exteriors. Her own truck was at least twenty years old and looked the part.
Feminine giggles.
They were the first thing to greet her—that and the sound of a bluebird warbling off in the distance. She didn’t know why the laughter took her aback. She’d figured Colt wasn’t the type to spend time with female company, had assumed the horses she saw saddled inside the trailer belonged to men.
No, he just didn’t want to spend time with you.
Okay, fine. Back when she’d been her old self, she’d been a little miffed that he’d given her the cold shoulder at Zach and Mariah’s wedding. She wasn’t used to men doing that and, quite frankly, when she’d first met him she’d kicked herself for not agreeing to go on a date with him. He was a handsome cuss. Not that he’d asked, but Wes had offered to set them up at least a half-dozen times. She hadn’t wanted a thing to do with a cowboy back then. Not her type. And then she’d met him and been instantly struck by that tingling in the pit of her belly, the only thought in her mind: oh my.
She rounded the open doorway of the barn and drew up short. Women. Five of them. All good looking. All cowgirls judging by the tight-fitting jeans and T-shirts. All standing in the middle of the barn, a row of stalls to their left and what must have been three tons of hay piled high to their right. The women turned to stare at her as though she was a poppy seed stuck in someone’s teeth.
“Hey.” She hated sounding so uncertain of herself because standing just beyond them was Colt in a black button-up and pressed jeans. “Sorry to drop in on you like this.” She pointed over her shoulder. “But I was hoping we could talk.”
He didn’t seem angry that she’d tracked him down at his ranch. He didn’t seem anything at all, although it was hard to gauge the emotions in his eyes beneath his cowboy hat. He stood just inside the barn, in front of the first stall.
“Natalie, meet the Galloping Girlz. Trick riders. They’ll be performing with me out on the road.”
Trick riders. Ah. They had the look of performers. Pretty. Skinny. Self-confident. She estimated most of them to be younger than she was, although one of them, a brunette, seemed about her age. Inside the barn it was dark, the only light coming from the massive front entrance, but when that brunette narrowed her gaze, her lashes following the lowered sweep of her eyes, it wasn’t too dim for Natalie to spot the curiosity spilling from their blue depths.
“Samantha here is their leader.”
“Hi.” The woman charged toward Natalie and clasped her hand in her grip like a cowgirl wrangling a heifer. “Call me Sam.” She pointed a thumb in Colt’s direction. “Colt’s the only one allowed to call me Samantha.”
Natalie would have to be deaf not to hear the possessiveness in the woman’s voice. She had long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, the strands around her head held back by a crystal-studded headband that caught the light and sparkled in a way that matched the rhinestones on the front of her shirt. The woman was pretty, for all that she seemed to have the wrong idea about Natalie and Colt.
“We were actually just talking about you,” Colt offered.
When Natalie caught Colt’s gaze she still couldn’t tell what ideas ran through his head. He didn’t seem happy to see her. Then again, he didn’t seem upset, either.
“Uh oh.” She shot Samantha a smile meant to project: Friendly! Nice! Not interested in Colt! “I hope that’s a good thing.”
“Sam’s been trying something new.” Natalie watched to see if Colt reciprocated Sam’s feelings, but the man was good at hiding his thoughts. “She wants to jump through a flaming hoop, but she’s having trouble.” Natalie couldn’t be certain, but she thought that might be amusement she saw in Colt’s eyes. “I told her she’d be lucky if she didn’t set herself on fire.”
“Colt.” Sam made a big show of punching him in the shoulder before turning back to Natalie. “Colt tells me you used to be some big, famous jumping person.”
Internationally famous. Ranked first in the world. Everyone had said 2016 would have been her year, the year she’d represent the United States in the games. And then the accident.
“I did okay.”
There were times when disappointment and sorrow came out of nowhere and smacked her in the face. This was one of those moments, though she tried to hide it. When she met Colt’s gaze, his amusement faded.
“We were hoping you could help.” He gave her a small smile, one meant to tell her without words that he understood.
She took a deep breath, got hold of her emotions, and pulled her shoulders back. “Well it’s a good thing I showed up here then, isn’t it?”
“So you’ll do it?” Sam asked.
“Of course.”
“Wait, wait.” Colt held up his hands. “I told Sam she had to give you something in return.”
Sam’s whole face lit up with excitement. “I’m going to teach you to trick ride.”
Chapter Four
He thought she’d be thrilled. Working with the Galloping Girlz would be an excellent way for Natalie to build upper body strength, not to mention recover her center of gravity.
Natalie didn’t seem thrilled. She seemed terrified.
“Oh, wow.”
But the subtext of her words clearly indicated she’d rather jump out of an airplane—without a parachute.
“We can talk about it later.” He motioned to the Galloping Girlz. “I think Sam would appreciate some help with Roger today.
“I would. He keeps stopping and I don’t know why.”
“Why don’t you unload your horses?” Colt eyed the girls. “I can talk to Natalie about my idea alone.”
“Sure,” Sam said, corralling her teammates, but not before shooting Colt one last smile, a grin that slid off the edge of her face when her eyes fell on Natalie. Colt made a mental note to set the record straight with Sam even though he’d told her half a dozen times already—he wasn’t interested in dating anybody.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your plans for the day,” Natalie ventured.
For some reason Colt had a hard time meeting Natalie’s eyes. Now that he thought about it, he’d had trouble with that since the moment he’d first met her. Something about her pretty blue gaze made him uncomfortable.
“No. It’s okay. I should have called you before now anyway.”
“But you weren’t going to, were you?”
He prided himself on being honest in most situations, but he wouldn’t be human if he didn’t get a little hot under the collar thanks to the guilt her words evoked. “Tell you the truth, I wasn’t. Well, I was. I was going to call to tell you to find someone else.”
She seemed surprised by his frankness, her long lashes parting a bit before swooping down to shield those amazing blue eyes from his stare. “But now you want me to work with Sam. What changed your mind?”
“You showed up at my front gate.” He shook his head. “And that tells me you’re stubborn, and that you probably wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“I wouldn’t have.”
“But you’re scared.”
That caught her off guard. “What makes you say that?”
“The look on your face when Sam volunteered to teach you trick riding.”
“I told you my equilibrium is all messed up.”
It wasn’t just that. He could tell that she was holding something back. “Are you afraid of falling off?”
Her blue eyes suddenly grew two inches wide.
“You are, aren’t you?”
She pulled her gaze away once again, as if sensing he could read the thoughts in them. “Well, I should be a little cautious, don’t you think? I mean, I’m basically learning how to ride all over again.”
Cautious, yes. Terrified, no.
But he had some experience with how she felt. He’d taken a nasty tumble off a bronc once. Took him nearly a year to get back into the groove of things. And then even more recently, when he’d been caught in a fire fight near the border of Benghazi, it’d taken months before he could head out to patrol without getting the shakes. The thing with the military, though, was that you didn’t have a choice. He might never have gotten over his fear if he’d been allowed to slink away.
“They say the best thing is to get back on the horse, and in my experience, that’s proven to be true.”
“I didn’t fall off the last time I rode,” she protested.
“No. Playboy took off with you. In some ways that can be worse.”
“Look, when I was younger I started riding broncs. I don’t know if you know or not, but there’s no steering a bucking horse. Took me a while to get used to having no control. It’s going to take a while for you, too.”
“But that’s just it.” She splayed her hands. “Bridleless reining is all about control.”
He shook his head. “When it comes to horses, control is an illusion. They can always do what they want if they decide to. They’re bigger, faster and, in some cases, smarter than a lot of humans. But all that doesn’t matter because first you have to learn how to trust them or none of your goals will be possible.” He crossed his arms in front of him. “Riding with the Galloping Girlz will be the best thing for you.”
“What will I be doing?”
“That’s up to Sam. She’s the pro.”
She didn’t want to do it. Not at all.
“This is a deal breaker for me, Natalie. Either you let the girls help you out or I’m done.”
He could see that she didn’t take kindly to his ultimatum, but he was doing it for her own good. Just like in the military, sometimes it was better for people if they weren’t given a choice. Tough love, so to speak.
Those eyes of hers had gone from big and uncertain to narrowed and annoyed. His words seemed to serve as a challenge. “Fine.”
“You’ll do it?”
“It seems I have no choice.”
Good for her. He had to squelch the unexpected surge of admiration he felt. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I am.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I can see the fear in your eyes. It makes me wonder if you’re ready. Maybe you should take some time off. Learn how to knit or something. When you’re ready to get back on a horse you’ll know.”
“I’m not afraid to get back on a horse.”
Tell it to the judge.
But he didn’t say the words aloud. “Good,” he said instead. “Because I think you should start working with Sam today.”
“Today?” Her lips went slack.
“No time like the present.”