Too bad Beth was running the concession stand or Riker would’ve gone back for more food. As he walked to the stands to meet Trisha, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see the redhead again. She was so darn cute with the faint sprinkles of freckles over her nose, and yet beautiful at the same time. He felt bad about ruining her shirt.

“Hey.”

He turned, surprised to see Trisha walking next to him.

“Oh, hey. I was just coming to meet you.” He gave her a quick hug. Trisha was attractive with long ebony hair, lively brown eyes, and a peppy smile. A sharp dresser with a trim, shapely figure, she commanded attention wherever she went. Normally, Riker was as impressed with her as the rest of the male population. However, right now, all he could think about was the green-eyed siren with copper hair. He wondered where she’d rushed off to. Man, he’d really like to see her again.

Trisha cocked her head in amusement. “That was some show back there. That woman gave you a butt whooping.”

“You saw?”

“Of course, I saw it, along with half the people here.”

Crap! He hoped no one had videoed it. That would be a PR nightmare. The last thing he needed right now when he was trying to prove himself was bad press.

She clicked her tongue. “That girl got you good.”

He touched his stomach. “Yes, she did.” In more ways than one.

“The star quarterback’s gotta save the ball at all costs.”

He grumbled out a laugh. “Yeah, normally I’m on the other end of the spectrum with throwing the ball, but I guess it’s ingrained. A ball comes, and you just react.” Why had he not stopped to think that through before reacting? Then again, he might never have met the redhead if it hadn’t happened. So, it might not be such a bad thing. The jury was still out.

“Poor baby,” Trisha purred, placing a hand on his arm. Her sultry eyes lifted to his as she batted her thick eyelashes. “Would you like for me to make it better?”

“Thanks, I’m okay,” he said nonchalantly. He and Trisha were mostly friends, which was for the best. Better to let the past stay in the past.

“Suit yourself,” she sniffed. “Where do you want to sit?” she asked when they reached the stands.

He scoped the crowded bleachers, looking for a spot … and for a turquoise cowboy hat. His pulse bumped up a notch when he saw it. As the woman made eye contact, disappointment trickled through him. It wasn’t the redhead. Several people, including a couple of women, gave him eager waves when his eyes met theirs. He smiled and nodded.

Trisha harrumphed, shooting the women dark looks. “Your adoring fans never stop, do they?”

“Not jealous, are you, Trisha?” In the old days, Trisha had been a big fish in a little pond—head cheerleader, homecoming queen, Silver Creek’s little darling. Now that Riker had come into his own, she wasn’t sure how to take it.

She slid her arm through his and leaned in. “Why would I be jealous? I’m the one you’re with.”

“As friends,” he said firmly. Yes, friends were all they would ever be. The knowledge settled over him with surprising certainty. Funny how meeting the siren had helped him decide that.

Trisha’s face fell. She pointed to an empty space on the front row of the bleachers. “Oh, look. They saved us a couple of spots.” Her voice went cheery as they went over and sat down. “It must be our lucky night.”

Women’s barrel racing was underway. Riker watched as the rider and horse sped around the barrels in a clover pattern. Applause thundered through the stadium as the announcer shouted out her time. Watching this competition was a double-edged sword. On the one hand Riker really enjoyed it—he’d been coming to the rodeo since he was a kid. On the other, it reminded him of his mom, Irene. She’d grown up barrel racing and competed well into her fifties. Part of the reason he’d come here tonight was to feel close to his mom again. He wouldn’t forget her, even though his dad had. Acid churned in his gut as he thought about the injustice of his dad remarrying so soon after his mother’s death. He’d never forgive his dad for that.

“Are you okay?” Trisha tugged at his arm. “You seem so serious.”

He forced a smile. “I’m good.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He jerked. “Huh?”

She laughed. “You’re thinking about your mom, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“It’ll get better with time.”

That’s what people kept telling him, but so far it wasn’t working.

“How are things with the Titans?”

“Busy.” He watched as the next contestant charged out of the gate and around the barrels.

She frowned. “I thought this was your time off.”

“Yeah, it is. I mean, I still have training exercises, but it’s nice to have some downtime.”

“That was LeAnne Croker with a time of 16.685,” the announcer boomed, followed by applause.

Trisha leaned closer to him, talking louder over the noise. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about Silver Creek …” her lower lip jutted out in a petulant pout “… that you’d forgotten about me.”

Trisha was good at playing on the emotions, using her charms to persuade the opposite sex. “I could never forget about you, Trisha. The two of us are buds.”

Her brows bunched together in irritation, then she smiled coyly. “You know … if you asked me nicely, I might even entertain the idea of us getting back together.”

He laughed. “Really?”

She gave him an adoring look. “Really.” Her voice grew husky. “The two of us were so good together, Riker.”

“You didn’t think so when you broke up with me.”

Her eyes took on a wounded look. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s the truth.”

“I was a silly teenager … confused.”

“You said you needed space to stretch your wings, said you wanted to date other people.” In all honesty, Riker was ticked when it first happened, felt like she’d broken his heart. Later, he realized it was mostly his pride that had been hurt. As time went on, he was relieved that he could go to college without the additional stress of a long-distance relationship.

“I made a mistake, okay?” She reached for his hand, pressing it between hers. She looked him in the eye. “Can you ever forgive me?”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course. It worked out as it should have. The best part of our relationship survived. We’re friends.” He knew Trisha well enough to know that while she cared about him, it didn’t hurt that he was now a professional quarterback for the Titans.

She sighed. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

The next contestant was up. Riker’s pulse shot up ten notches. It was the redhead! He removed his hand from Trisha’s and sat up straight.

She followed his trail of vision, sighing in irritation. “Is that the girl you spilled food on?”

“Yeah.” He kept his eyes fixed on the siren. Trisha spoke, but he didn’t process what she’d said. All he could think about was how magnificent the redhead was.

“She changed shirts,” Trisha added.

“Yes,” he murmured. He could feel the tension in the siren’s body as she leaned forward on the horse, clutching the reins. Her chin was set with determination, her hat low on her head, the brim just above her eyes. He watched in admiration as she charged out and around the barrels, her copper strands flying in the wind like streaks of a rocket. Wow! What a woman. All of the energy in the arena seemed to be gathered around her.

“Starr Andrews at 16.654,” the announcer yelled.

Riker committed the name to memory. Starr Andrews. Everything in him wanted to jump up this instant and rush over to her. He craned his neck to look over to the side of the arena where she’d gone.

Trisha linked her arm through his. “I’m bored. Let’s get something to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry too, since your food went all over that barrel racer.”

She spoke the words barrel racer with disdain.

Riker had to talk to the redhead. How to get away from Trisha without hurting her feelings. “Um, Trisha, maybe we ought to call it a night.”

She tightened her hold. “Oh, no. I’m not letting you go that easily.” She flashed a wicked grin. “You like her.”

He blinked. “Who?”

“The barrel racer.”

“I don’t even know her.”

“You want to get to know her,” she purred in a playful tone.

“She hates me, punched me in the gut.”

“Yeah, but you’re thinking you can charm her into forgiving you. Flash those baby blues, tell her what a kick-butt quarterback you are and she’ll fall into your arms.”

If only it were that easy. He had a feeling that unlike most girls, the siren wouldn’t be all that impressed that he was the Titan’s starting quarterback.

She laughed lightly. “That’s exactly what you’re thinking, I can see it on your face.”

He grunted, removing his arm from Trisha’s. “Not hardly. I was actually thinking that Starr would probably slap me if I even so much as tried to say hello.”

She flashed a hard smile that looked like it might crack with the slightest bit of pressure. “Ah, so you’re on a first-name basis now. That was fast.”

Geez. “The announcer just said her name.” A grin played on his lips and for a second, he felt like they were back in high school, bantering back and forth in Mr. Floyd’s biology class. “Are you jealous of Starr?”

Her face turned red. “You wish,” she spouted. “You know what, Starr probably would slap you, or punch you in the face.” Trisha let out a snarky giggle. “Oh, the amount of money I’d pay to see that.”

His brows shot up. “Way to throw me under the bus.”

“Well, you have been getting too big for your britches lately,” she quipped.

The statement was spoken in jest but he could sense some hostility. It got under his skin. “You know what? I think if I approached Starr, she’d be just fine with it. Would probably even be glad.” Okay, that was a stretch, but Trisha was crossing the line. She, of all people, should be happy for his success instead of resentful.

She shook her head. “Dream on.”

“Maybe I’ll go and talk to her and we’ll see.”

She rolled her eyes. “Go ahead, it’s your funeral.” She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “Since you’re so certain she’ll fall at your feet, let’s make a wager.”

He sensed a trap. One thing he knew about Trisha was that she always had an angle. “What kind of wager?”

She pursed her lips. “If you can talk to Starr,” she held up a finger, “no, kiss her before the night’s over, I’ll give you three pints of my mama’s blackberry jam.”

“Oh, no. Don’t be bringing your mama’s jam into this. You know how much I love that stuff.”

“Yep.” She flashed a victorious smile. “You never could resist my mama’s jam.”

His mouth salivated just thinking about that jam spread over a warm piece of homemade bread. What could it hurt to make a wager? He planned to approach Starr anyway. He had to admit, wager or not, the thought of kissing her was thrilling. Heck, he’d even settle for talking to Starr again.

Trisha’s eyes danced with a challenge. “What do you say?”

“You’re on.” They shook on it. “Wait a minute, though. What do you get if I lose?” No way he was going to lose, but courtesy demanded that he at least broach the topic.

She waved a hand. “Just buy me some loaded fries at Skinny Steve’s and we’ll call it even.”

“It’s a deal.” He stood, suddenly anxious to get to where Starr was before she somehow got away. “Whelp,” he drawled, flashing a cocky grin. “I’m off to prove my manliness. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll need it,” Trisha said, a smile flitting over her lips. “Those fries are gonna taste so good.”

He winked. “Not as good as your mama’s jam. See ya around.”

“Later,” she responded.

With that, he was off.