Wrangled by the Watchful Cowboy Page 11

  She saw it then—the handsome guy who’d made her feel so special, like she was one-in-a-million. It was the reason she’d fallen for him. Only after a while, he’d tried to change the very things he’d claimed to admire about her. Had his grandfather’s death turned him into a different man?

  He started toward the concession tents, tugging on her hand, but she held back.

  “You understand we’re only talking, right? Friend to friend?”

  The emotion that narrowed his eyes seemed more like challenge than acceptance, but he nodded and said, “I understand.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Cord told the cowboy, whose lower lip was distended with a dip of tobacco. “But you’ll have to wear the protective gear when you ride.”

  “You see, Jack?” Mason was clearly riled up. “We all have to wear ’em. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

  The man let out an expletive and spit on the ground, leaving a wet, brown stain. “I’m wearing my hat, or I’m not riding.”

  “Then you’ll have to forfeit your entry fee,” Cord said. “If anyone rides without a helmet, our insurance policy is invalidated for the whole event. If I let you ride wearing a cowboy hat, and anyone else gets hurt during the rodeo, they’d be out of pocket for their hospital bills. Plus, we could be sued, and we wouldn’t be eligible for any events in the future.”

  “Well that’s just stupid,” he grumbled. “The professional rodeos don’t do that.”

  “We don’t have a pro rodeo budget,” Cord explained. “They would’ve charged us an arm and a leg for a two-day policy, if we hadn’t agreed to the helmets.”

  “Fine. I’ll wear it.” He spat again, narrowly missing Cord’s boot, then stomped away.

  “Thanks for talking to him,” said Mason. “He wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Glad I could help. You’re already juggling a lot of hats over here, getting the bulls and the riders ready.” Likewise, Cord had been putting out one fire after another, running all over the arena, wherever his cell phone beckoned him. Though he hadn’t had a minute to rest, he also hadn’t had time to get nervous about his upcoming bull ride. “I appreciate you making sure all the i’s are dotted and the t’s are crossed.”

  Mason took off his cowboy hat and rubbed his forehead before slapping it back in place. “Speaking of dotting i’s, you haven’t signed your health affidavit.”

  “What’s it for?”

  “Takes the place of a signed health clearance from a physician. States that your doctor cleared you to compete. All you have to do is sign it.” Mason dug inside an accordion folder tucked against a wall and retrieved a sheet of paper. He handed Cord the form, along with a pen.

  “Do all the competitors sign a form like this?” Cord tugged at his shirt collar, which was suddenly two sizes too small. “Even if they haven’t been injured?”

  “If you haven’t been injured, you just check box A. But I already checked box B for you and filled out the top. Just need your signature.” Mason turned around. “Here. You can use my back to sign it.”

  Cord laid the paper on Mason’s back and set the point of the pen on the signature line. But he couldn’t make his hand move.

  “What if someone signs this paper, but the doctor hasn’t really given them a clean bill of health?”

  Mason slowly turned back around, his eyes narrowing. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Your doctor didn’t clear you to ride?”

  “I think he’s being overly cautious,” Cord said, toying with the pen in his hand.

  Mason folded his arms over his chest, scowling like an angry school principal. “I thought you just had some bruises and sprains, but nothing was broken.”

  Cord pointed to his joint. “This shoulder got dislocated. It feels fine now, but I couldn’t get the doctor to believe me.”

  “You said you strained it. You never said a word about dislocating the joint.” Mason mumbled something under his breath as he snatched the page from Cord’s fingers. “You’re not riding tonight.”

  “Wait a minute.” Cord grabbed for the paper, but Mason ripped it to pieces before his eyes.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Cord.”

  “You may not believe this, but I’m as tough as any guy out here.” Cord jutted his jaw forward. “All I have is a separated shoulder. You told me you’d even ridden with broken bones before.”

  “That’s true.” Mason gestured wildly like he was conducting an orchestra. “But I was nineteen and thought I was invincible. I wasn’t. I found out the hard way. You’re my age, Cord. You should know better.”

  “Are you telling me you wouldn’t ride tonight if you’d dislocated your shoulder four weeks ago?”

  The toe of Mason’s boot tapped an impatient rhythm on the dirt. “Last time I dislocated my shoulder, I was out the rest of the season. Missed ten rodeos.”

  As his words sunk in, Cord felt about an inch tall. As embarrassed as he was to be called out by Mason, he was even more mortified that his boss had flown from New York, just to watch him ride. “I guess I’ll get out of your hair, then.”

  “Not so fast.” Mason caught his arm. “If you’re as tough as you say you are, you can be my fence-sitter.”

  “What’s a fence-sitter?”

  “You sit on the arena fence during the bull rides. If those two young bullfighters get in trouble, you jump down and help them.”

  Cord’s heart thumped so hard and fast, he could hear it inside his head. “Don’t I need a doctor’s clearance to be a fence-sitter?”

  He sincerely hoped so. During his weekend bull riding course, his practice attempt at bullfighting had been terrifying. His teacher had laughingly commended him for drawing the bull away from the rider by running a hundred-yard-dash in a fifty-yard-dash time. He then attempted to convince Cord that his courage would rise to the occasion if he were actually saving a bull rider from a bull instead of merely enticing a bull to chase him. Cord’s current panic attack said otherwise.

  “You don’t need a doctor’s clearance, because it’s not an official job. But those guys are pretty green, and I prefer to have backup. You won’t be alone, most of the time. I’ll be up there with you as much as I can be,” said Mason. “Don’t worry. Your only injury is likely to be the fence making your butt sore.”

  Mason’s laughter was drowned out by the crowd, as the next event was announced… barrel racing. Cord didn’t have time to make it up to the grandstands.

  “Afraid you’re going to miss your girlfriend’s race?” Mason gave a knowing smile. Cord was about to protest when Mason pointed to his left. “Go into the empty bucking chute and watch through the gate. I’ll join you in a second.”

  Still feeling a little miffed that Jess hadn’t trusted him to ride a bull without getting hurt again, despite the fact he was now excluded from the competition, Cord was surprised to find his fingers shaking as he waited for her race. When he saw her behind the starting gate, the fourth to compete, his heart rate skyrocketed and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. His hands gripped the metal so tightly, his knuckles blanched. As she rode, her body moving in fluid coordination with Shadow’s as if the two were one, a huge sense of pride welled in his chest. She posted a 14.5-second time, the best by a 2-second margin.

  Cord cheered and whistled, desperately wishing she could hear his voice over the crowd. As it was, she had no idea he was rooting for her. Mason arrived at his side just as she finished, but let out a celebratory whoop.

  The minutes passed like hours as he waited for all the competitors to finish round one and became increasingly agitated, not even comprehending Mason’s endless chatter. Then it happened. One of the mares slipped and went down sideways, trapping her rider’s leg beneath her. The crowd let out a collective gasp, but soon the girl was on her feet and back on her horse, waving at the crowd.

  Nevertheless, Cord had an insane urge to find Jessica and beg her to skip the second round. She could be pinned under Shadow in a fall or thrown off and crushed by the
gelding’s hooves. Anything could happen. When Jess finally raced again, he could barely watch, anxiety making him hold his breath until her run was over.

  Had she been feeling the same way when she asked him not to compete in the bull riding? Cord had been certain her request was motivated by her lack of faith in his abilities. But if she’d felt anything remotely close to his nervous panic, he owed her a huge apology.

  When the announcer called her name as the barrel racing champion, she returned to the arena on foot, waving her hat at the crowd. Cord jumped up and down, pumping his fist in the air as if he’d been the actual winner. Watching beside him, Mason McCaffrey regarded him like he’d lost his mind. Secretly, Cord agreed with him.

  Mason made a tsking noise as his head moved in a slow shake. “Man, you are gone for Jessica, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m gone for her. I like her and all, but—”

  Mason rolled his eyes. “Don’t deny it. I know a lovesick puppy when I see one.”

  “But—”

  “I’d better get an invitation.” Mason’s hand slapped Cord’s back.

  “Invitation?”

  “To the wedding!”

  Mason doubled over, cackling with laughter. Cord felt heat creeping up his neck, but he gave a good-natured chuckle at McCaffrey’s joke.

  “We’re not that serious,” Cord said.

  But was he kidding himself?

  Hadn’t he already begun to order his life around hers? Knowing Jess preferred city life, he’d almost talked himself into leaving Sage Valley. He and Finn had even discussed the possibility of working from Houston, where one of the other partners had an office.

  “If you aren’t serious, then you won’t mind if I dance with her tomorrow night, right?” Mason asked.

  “I thought you were taking Ellen to the dance.”

  “We broke up,” Mason said cheerfully. “So I’m glad to hear you and Jessica aren’t exclusive.”

  “We are exclusive,” Cord was quick to clarify.

  “But y’all aren’t serious, so a dance or two would be no big deal.” Mason rubbed his hands together briskly, like he was warming them by a fire, despite the fact it had only cooled off to about eighty degrees that evening. “This is great news. I thought I’d be sitting on the sidelines all night.”

  “She won’t be dancing with anyone but me,” said Cord, his jaw clamping shut like a loggerhead turtle.

  Mason laughed, slapping his knees. “Like I said, you are one lovesick puppy.”

  The only sound Cord could make was a growl.

  “I was kidding you, man. I’m going with Ellen. And I promise I won’t ask Jess to dance, as long as you guarantee I’m on the guest list.”

  So irritated he couldn’t think straight, Cord forced a laugh, pretending Mason’s teasing didn’t faze him. Then he gasped as he remembered a tiny detail he’d pushed to the back of his mind.

  Parker’s here.

  Turning on his heel, he dashed out, ignoring Mason’s calls. He raced behind the newly added bleachers past the corrals and chutes for the horse events. He’d just seen her come through the outer arena gate a few minutes earlier when her name was announced as the winner. Hopefully, she hadn’t gone far.

  “Why did every person here pick now to come down and go to the bathroom?” he complained to himself, as he weaved through the people lined up at the porta potties. When he almost ran into a woman with a baby strapped to her, he decided to slow his pace. From the arena he heard the crowd cheering for the first contestant in the calf roping.

  As he drew closer to the exit gate, he scanned the crowd, but saw no sign of her. What would he say if he found her? That she looked adorable in her sequin-adorned western shirt? That he was proud of her for winning the barrel racing? That he hoped she could forgive him for getting angry?

  That I can’t live without her and don’t want to try.

  He jolted to a stop, as the thought settled in his mind. Was it true?

  Someone bumped against him where he stood like a boulder in the middle of a highway.

  “Sorry,” the stranger said, and Cord repeated the word, barely registering the collision.

  Was he really in love with Jessica? Should he tell her? An I-love-you would probably send her running for the hills. Yet deep inside, he knew if he didn’t tell her, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

  He started walking again, the end of the grandstands in sight. Then he spotted her, and his heart jumped out of his chest. Her shiny brown hair flowed out of her ponytail like a waterfall. His hands twitched, remembering how silky that hair felt between his fingers.

  Her luscious lips moved, as if deliberately enticing him. She was talking to someone. A man. Cord’s chest constricted, forcing all the air from his lungs. It had to be him—Parker Brown—Jessica’s controlling ex-fiancé.

  Cord watched in horror as the man wrapped his arms around Jess. She didn’t resist. The two clung to each other in passion, like they weren’t surrounded by dozens of curious onlookers. When the torturous embrace finally ended, Parker held out his hand.

  Don’t take it!

  After a moment’s indecision, her hand slipped into his, and Cord’s heart splintered. He grasped at a nearby support pole and leaned against it, squeezing his eyes shut, as if he could unsee what had just happened.

  A painful grip on his arm jerked him back to reality. “I’ve been looking for you, Dennison.”

  Cord lifted lifeless eyes to face a pair of furious ones. “Hi, Nick,” he answered, in a defeated voice.

  “Are you crazy?” Nick yelled, attracting the attention of several passersby. “You can’t ride with a separated shoulder.”

  “I know,” Cord replied. “I’m not.”

  “You better listen to… What? You’re not riding tonight?”

  “No.” Cord turned, walking aimlessly the way he’d come.

  “Wait. What’s wrong with you?” Nick’s hand grasped his elbow. “Are you this upset because you can’t compete tonight?”

  Cord attempted to swallow, with something the size of Africa stuck in his throat. Nick might as well know the truth. “I lost Jess.”

  Nick chuckled. “Don’t worry, buddy. You don’t have to keep track of her tonight. I know you’re busy running this whole show. But thanks for keeping her safe from all the other dudes this summer.”

  “I lost her to Parker.”

  “I know Parker’s here.” Nick’s brows bent together. “But I don’t think she’ll take him back.”

  “She already did,” Cord said, his voice hoarse. “She hugged him. They walked away holding hands.”

  Nick’s chin protruded. “I won’t let it happen.”

  “Don’t you get it? Your sister is smart and independent. She’ll do whatever she wants. You can’t stop her, and neither can anyone else.” Cord tried to take a deep breath, but someone had strapped an iron belt around his chest. “And I didn’t even get a chance to tell her.”

  “Tell her what?”

  From Nick’s thunderous expression, Cord suspected he already knew the answer. Dating his sister would be a crime worthy of the death penalty in Nick’s eyes, but right now, Cord didn’t care. At least it would put him out of his misery.

  “That I’m in love with her.”

  13

  By some miracle, thirty minutes later, Cord was still alive.

  “Some watchdog you are,” Nick complained. “You were supposed to fend the rabid guys off, not become one of them.”

  “What can I say? She stuck me in the friend zone, and I tried to claw my way out.” From his seat on the pickup tailgate, Cord swung his legs to get his blood circulating again. He’d followed Nick to the parking lot so he could retrieve his cell phone from his truck. “She never led me on, but I couldn’t help falling for her. So say whatever you want to me, because nothing’s going to make me feel any worse than I already do.”

  Beside him, Nick made a sound that could’ve been a laugh or a groan. “I guess the
re could be worse things than having you as a brother-in-law.”

  “Have you listened to anything I said?” Irritation rose to the surface, and he relished feeling something other than dead. “She doesn’t love me. I thought there was hope if I stuck with it, but she made her choice… Parker.”

  “I have a great idea how to get rid of that dude,” said Nick. “Let’s sign him up for the bull riding competition. I’d love to watch him get bucked to the ground in his fancy new western duds.”

  “Bull riding!” Cord leapt off the tailgate, scanning his phone for the time. “I have to get back before it starts!”

  “I thought you weren’t competing.” Nick eyed him with suspicion before standing up to slam the tailgate closed.

  “I promised McCaffrey I’d be on standby in case the bullfighters need backup.” They started back toward the arena at a brisk pace.

  “Why you? You’ve got to be greener than the bullfighters you’re paying to do the job.”

  Cord’s already-shaky confidence took a nose-dive. “Probably punishment. Sitting on a fence for a couple of hours in retribution for trying to compete without a doctor’s release.”

  “That seems fair.” Nick chuckled as he glanced at his cell phone. “I doubt J.J.’s even got her phone with her. She hasn’t sent any messages. But she’ll probably come sit with us—she and Parker, I guess. What do you want me to say to her?”

  “She was worried, so let her know I’m not riding tonight. But please don’t tell her what I told you. I’m humiliated enough.”

  “You don’t want me to put in a good word for you?” Nick grinned, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

  “Best I can tell, Jess does the opposite of whatever you suggest. So, please don’t.” Cord sighed. “Although it’s too late to matter, anyway, now that she’s back with Parker.”

  “I think you’re overestimating Parker. Or underestimating J.J. He was a jerk to her. I can’t believe she’d take him back.”

  “You didn’t see them together,” said Cord.

  Surprisingly, Nick didn’t answer with a smart retort, though he scowled like he was thinking one.