Chapter 36

As Shawnee piloted her rig across town the next morning, it occurred to her that she’d never been alone in a vehicle with Cole. Despite everything they’d done to and with each other—and she did mean everything—she felt weirdly awkward, like they were headed to a drive-in for their first date. Possibly because Cole was so tense she could feel it rolling off him in ultrasonic waves.

And if you wanted to distract Cole, you asked about his stock. “Joe said they rode one of your bulls to win first at the Extreme Bulls event in Albuquerque.”

“Yep.”

Okay. This was gonna take a little more prodding. “One of Dirt Eater’s sons?”

“Nope.” But despite his nerves, he couldn’t leave it at that. “It was Texas Smackdown. He’s out of a daughter of Carrot Top, crossed with one of Chad Berger’s best sires. They don’t make the whistle on him very often.”

“It must be amazing, seeing your stock compete at that level.” Especially after decades of clinging to the very bottom rung of professional rodeo, producing the smallest, least profitable shows. In the past three years, with some savvy financial scheming on Violet’s part and the connections and influence Joe had brought to the table, they were moving up fast. “I bet you wish you could be there to see it.”

Cole shook his head. “I get my fill at the National Finals and a few of the early winter rodeos. Besides, my aunt and uncle have earned it. They almost lost it all after my parents died. It took years just to get back to even.”

Shawnee had never thought of the Jacobs family tragedy in financial terms, but of course it would have had an impact. One thing they hadn’t had to worry about when her grandfather died. Between her illness and his, there was nothing left to lose.

She couldn’t even afford to fall in love.

The ache was sharper than usual, when she was sitting this close to what might have been—in another, better life. But she could live with the pain of letting him go. She refused to die knowing she’d tarnished the bright, shiny future he and his family had fought so hard to rebuild.

And on that cheery note…

“I’d rather be the pickup man,” he blurted. When she stared at him, uncomprehending, he added, “At one of those big rodeos. Or the National Finals.”

Okay. Wow. That was news. As far as Shawnee knew, Cole had never mentioned the possibility to anyone in his family.

“Have you…applied or whatever?” She didn’t even know how you got those jobs.

“No.”

“Why not? You’re good enough.”

“Maybe.” He spread his hands on his thighs and studied them. “I, um, don’t always work well with others.”

She couldn’t argue. On the other hand…

“You’ve managed to work with me. That must be worth something. And we’ve being doing our damnedest to put together an Internet highlight reel this summer. I think you should go for it.”

He hunched his shoulders, Cole-speak for ain’t gonna happen. Dumb-ass. Shawnee made a mental note to talk to Joe. He’d know what it took to get on the short list for those jobs.

And if she had a hand in making this dream come true for Cole, it might help soothe her conscience for what she was going to do to him when she left.

She slowed and turned into the driveway of the saddle club. The parking lot was already crowded and a good number of riders circled the arena, warming up. Her pulse did an eager shimmy of anticipation.

Cole gulped audibly. “I thought this was just some little local deal.”

“It is.” Shawnee wheeled into an empty slot and shut off the engine. “Looks like there are a lot of locals.”

Cole trailed behind her like a bewildered child as she strolled over to the entry office/concession stand. He got a Coke while she gave the secretary their names. They both paid their entry fees. As they stepped aside to make way for the next in line, Cole froze, staring at the poster that described the roping, taped to the table for quick reference.

“It’s progressive?” The horror in his voice suggested she’d invited him to a ritual sacrifice.

“Almost all of the ropings are nowadays,” she said, ignoring the curious glances from the others in the line to enter.

“If I miss the first steer, we’re done. You won’t even get to rope.”

He sounded so desperate, on the verge of panic. “Well, then, don’t miss,” she said, and walked away.

If only it were that simple. When the position draw was posted, she and Cole were the fifty-seventh team out of ninety-eight, and with each successive bang of the chute gate, he got a little paler, sat a little more rigid in his saddle, until Shawnee was afraid if she tapped his arm he’d keel over.

As team number fifty-one rode into the roping boxes, she nudged Roy closer until her knee bumped Cole’s. His eyes were glazed and he was barely breathing. She crooked a finger. When he leaned down within reach, she clenched her fist in the front of his shirt and slapped a long, hot kiss on him. By the time she let go, he had regained some of his color.

“Just a reminder,” she said. “What you get later for being a sport.”

“Even if I miss?”

“Especially if you miss. Then you’ll owe me. Big. And I already know how I plan to collect.”

His smile was a pitiful thing, but at least he seemed to be taking in air again.

And he didn’t miss. The loop wasn’t a thing of beauty, but it fit. Cole dallied up and went left, and Shawnee was able to snag both hind feet. Roy buried his rear end and the big steer hit the end hard enough to jerk two feet of rope through her gloved hand. Like a junkie snorting a line, her blood sang at the hot slide of nylon against her palm and the smell of burning rubber from her saddle horn.

God, she loved this game.

Her grin was made of pure joy. Cole’s held the petrified relief of a man who’d taken a single step into a minefield and hadn’t blown up…yet.

While they waited for their next run, Shawnee wallowed in the singular aroma of horses and ropes and dirt, Roy’s quiet strength beneath her, the laughter and banter of the other ropers filling the air. Not a particularly friendly bunch. Or Cole was scaring them away with his Grim Reaper face. Shawnee stuck by him, rather than wandering around to chat up strangers. Funny, how much easier it was to make friends after they saw her double-hock a steer or two.

Yeah, kiss this, boys.

Almost half of the teams dropped out in the first round, so their turn came up quicker the second time. As the team ahead of them tracked their steer to the catch pen, Shawnee stuck out her chest and flipped back one side of her button-down shirt to flash Cole some cleavage. “Don’t forget. Catch now, or pay later.”

He caught. Farther down the arena than Shawnee would have preferred, but her own loop was quick and deadly, so their time was still respectable. The two runs combined put them eleventh out of the top twenty that got to rope a third and final steer. Not bad. And as the saying went, a bad day roping was better than the best day doing anything else. Shawnee was buzzing with adrenaline. Cole looked like he was going to puke.

Shawnee put her hand on his thigh and squeezed. “Dude. It’s a fifty-dollar jackpot. We’re not roping to win the world.”

He just shook his head and rode over to the corner where he sat alone, muttering to himself.

By the time they backed into the roping boxes for their final steer, he’d gone from pale to green. He nodded his head, took three swings, and threw a balled-up mess of a loop that swatted the steer on the side of the head and fell on the ground. Cole dropped his head, reined Salty up, and turned to ride straight out the gate, his rope trailing behind, without even glancing at Shawnee. He was already off his horse and jerking at the cinches when she caught up with him at the trailer.

“Cole—”

“Don’t try to tell me it doesn’t matter.” He wadded up the rope and slung it in the general direction of the tack room. “I’ve heard Tori talk. You rope to win, not just show up.”

Shawnee paused, knowing she needed to tread carefully. Not exactly at the top of her skill set. She listened instead—to the times being announced while Cole yanked his saddle off and slammed it onto the rack so hard it almost went through the wall. Finally, she said, “You did rope to win.”

Cole made a noise packed so full of disgust it practically turned the air purple.

“Quit your tantruming and pay attention.”

“I am not—”

“Oh please. You’re two seconds away from throwing yourself on the ground and holding your breath until you turn blue.” Shawnee pointed at the nearest loudspeaker, now droning out the final results of the roping. “Listen to the placings.”

Cole scowled, but listened, then punched a frustrated fist into the other palm. “If I’d caught, we would’ve won third or fourth.”

“Assuming I caught two feet.”

He glared at her. “You never miss.”

She laughed outright. “If only. Then I’d be a legend in something other than my own mind.” She hitched her thumbs in his belt loops and dragged him close, wishing she had a bucket to stand on so she could glare straight into those stony blue eyes. She gave him a shake instead. “You threw to win. Gave it your best shot. That’s what matters. I know how hard this was for you, and I really appreciate it. If you hadn’t gutted it out, I wouldn’t have been able to rope at all.”

He shook his head, jaw set, rejecting every word.

Shawnee sighed. “How long do you intend to mope about this?”

“Forever.”

She laughed again, then realized he wasn’t joking.

“I can list every steer I ever missed for Xander at a rodeo,” he said, his voice flat. “And every free throw in basketball in high school. This is why I don’t play team games. I don’t forget anything.”

She had to blink a few times to take it in. “What about the good runs? The shots you made? Do you remember those?”

“Well…yeah.”

“But you focus on the mistakes.”

“I can’t help—”

She wanted to call bullshit—would’ve if it had been anyone else—but Cole’s brain didn’t work like other brains, so maybe he couldn’t stop himself from obsessing. Either way, he’d known this day would be torture and he’d come with her anyway. Her heart did a complicated, slightly terrifying whirl and swoop. This man. This strange, wonderful, maddening man.

What the hell was she going to do with him?

She shied away from the question and kissed his chin instead. “You realize this leaves me no choice.”

“Except?” he asked, worry puckering his brows.

“I’ll just have to blow your mind so hard tonight you can’t even remember your name, let alone some stupid team roping.”

He had to grin at that.

And the next morning, when she strolled into the rodeo arena, she found Joe once again behind the wheel of the ATV and Cole on Salty, looking grim but determined.

“Your sentence as my partner has been served,” she said.

Cole got busy building the perfect loop. “There could be another roping next week. Or…after.”

Her heart felt as if it stopped—one second, two, three—while she stared at him stupidly. Was he insane? He’d suffered through every minute of the roping, and had admitted he would continue to suffer indefinitely from the aftereffects. No reasonable human being would put himself through that again. And again. And again. As many times as she asked.

But this wasn’t a reasonable man. This was Cole. And he was talking about after.

I didn’t fall for you because you’re pretty.

It was possibly the most romantic thing a man had ever said—at least as far as she was concerned. Cole didn’t care about the surface. He had seen her sweaty, dusty, covered in horse puke, blood, and manure, an emotional disaster. He’d even had to deal with Ace. And he kept coming after her anyway.

What woman didn’t dream of a man who loved her from the inside out?

Love. Shawnee clamped down on her quivering heart. She had to be the strong one here. Realistic. Nothing had changed. She would have to walk away, the way she always had before. Because—dammit—she probably did love the big galoot, and he deserved so much more.

“You don’t want to do this,” she said, jerking her head toward the roping dummy, but thinking of that after.

His face went stony, but his eyes…God, the sheer determination in his eyes was going to kill her. “Yes, I do.”

One more week. Seven days. Then she would have to tell him why he was wrong. Why she was wrong. She could make a list. He liked lists.

He wouldn’t like hers.

But she deserved something, too. Even if it was only a lousy week of pretending she could be the woman that a man—this man—could want for all of his afters.

“Okay. Let’s rope.” She turned to flip the reins over Roy’s head, pausing to blink away the prickling heat in her eyes. “Just remember, I warned you.”

As if that was going to do either of them any good.